Netflix’s hit crime drama Ozark recently dropped the first half of its fourth and final season. In its latest run of episodes, Ozark continues to be one of the most intense shows on television (or, more accurately, the streaming-sphere) and seems to be building to a brutal finale. Both The Independent and The Telegraph’s reviews for Ozark’s newest season noted that the show once dubbed “the poor man’s Breaking Bad” has since become an even more compelling TV drama than Vince Gilligan’s game-changing meth saga.
When Ozark premiered in 2017, it was instantly dismissed as a Breaking Bad clone. Jason Bateman – who, like Bryan Cranston, made his name in comedy before switching to straightforward drama – stars as Marty Byrde, a financial planner who gets in over his head in a money-laundering deal with the mob. His trouble with organized crime forces him to relocate his wife and kids from Chicago to the Ozarks, where they become increasingly embroiled in the shady criminal underworld.
Since it revolves around a mild-mannered suburbanite getting his family involved in a life of crime, Ozark couldn’t avoid comparisons to Breaking Bad. Granted, the show has a very similar premise to Breaking Bad, but its execution is completely different. Not only does it switch the scorching desert landscapes of Albuquerque for the bleak rural environments of the Ozarks; Ozark switches a misunderstood genius stuck in a dead-end job for a soulless numbers man who constantly gaslights the people closest to him.
Ozark Subverts The Breaking Bad Formula
While the setup of Ozark is similar to that of Breaking Bad, the follow-through of that premise is wholly original. In Ozark, the lead antihero’s wife is in on the criminal enterprise from the beginning – and she’s not a moral counterpoint to her amoral husband; she’s just as toxic and terrible as he is. The whole show is a darkly comic examination of awful human behavior set across the backdrop of the drug trade. The shootouts and explosions are obviously thrilling, but the arguments and confrontations between the characters are just as captivating, if not more. In this sense, Ozark is a lot more like Bateman’s previous show, Arrested Development, than Breaking Bad. It plays like Vince Gilligan’s gritty, blood-soaked take on the story of the Bluth family.
Like Bateman’s Arrested Development character Michael Bluth, Ozark’s Marty Byrde (note the identical initials) is trying to keep his family together while their business is under investigation. In Arrested Development, the Bluth Company is being investigated by the SEC for possible fraudulent activities. In Ozark, the Byrdes’ casino is being investigated by the FBI as a possible money-laundering front for a drug cartel. Both Michael and Marty are selfish, reprehensible characters under the misconception that their decisions are for the greater good of their family.
Bateman has a lot in common with Breaking Bad’s beloved star, Bryan Cranston, as they’re both comedy stars who branched out into drama. But they translated their comedic abilities into the field of drama in totally different ways. Bateman’s comedic persona – embodied by Michael Bluth – is that of a self-loathing cynic who dryly tears people down. His performance as Marty in Ozark digs a lot deeper into this comic archetype and explores his twisted, manipulative psychology. Marty is a version of Michael if the people around him had the intelligence or the emotional depth to call him out.
Ozark’s Dysfunctional Family Is A Lot Like The Bluths Of Arrested Development
The most notable theme shared by Ozark and Arrested Development is the concept of a dysfunctional family. The Bluths have their problems, but in Ozark, Bateman takes the dysfunctions of family life to the extreme. There’s a lot of passive-aggressive interaction among families as it is, but Ozark takes it to the nth degree with the children of cartel operatives who are accomplices in their parents’ illicit dealings.
Walt, Jr. didn’t realize his dad was in the meth business until the final few episodes of Breaking Bad. From early on in Ozark, Charlotte and Jonah are not only aware of their parents’ illegal business; they’re complicit as active participants. Teenagers are always difficult to parent, but they’re especially difficult to deal with when they have to keep their mom and dad’s dark secrets. Across Ozark’s run, the daughter has lawyered up to emancipate and the son has started laundering money for his parents’ closest business rivals.
Anybody who decided against watching Ozark when it premiered because its trailer looked like a Breaking Bad rip-off and they thought they knew what to expect should seriously reconsider. It’s more like a gritty, cinematic, Breaking Bad-era “Peak TV” take on the biting satire of Bateman’s previous TV hit. Rather than emulating the saga of Walter White, Ozark presents a version of Michael Bluth whose company does business with a Mexican drug cartel as opposed to Saddam Hussein.
