Better Call Saul is a masterfully executed tale of social order, crime, and ennui. If you haven’t seen it yet, you’re doing yourself a disservice.
While the series stands on its own and does not necessarily need to be compared to Breaking Bad (nor does one need to have watched Breaking Bad to enjoy it, though it’s certainly another amazing series), I’d like to start with some easy comparisons between the two. I’m also approaching this discussion through the framing inherently lent by Better Call Saul’s prequel status, so spoiler-wise the very broad strokes are laid out here. This is how I entered the series and how I expect most everyone else would—we know going in that this is the story of how Jimmy McGill becomes Saul Goodman, the sleazy and cowardly lawyer side character in Breaking Bad. Both series necessarily deal with their characters’ slow transformations into lives of immorality, this is a given.
Where Breaking Bad is more explosive, high-stakes, and “cool,” Saul is relatively tempered. The plots have to do with clever cons and courtroom procedure more than they do with murderous drug empires. This doesn’t mean they don’t keep you on the edge of your seat—far from it—but this does allow you to easily identify with the characters. This contributes to the show being much sadder than Breaking Bad ever was. Unlike Walter White, it’s clear that Jimmy McGill is a good person underneath it all. It’s easy to put yourself in his shoes, and it’s heartbreaking to watch a series of wrong moves and mistreatments lead him on a path of tragic self-destruction.
Jimmy’s downfall is driven ultimately not by greed or bitterness but by a deep and lonely yearning for connection, for approval, and for respect. A dissatisfaction with life, and an attempt to change that with the tools and skills readily available to him. Jimmy is a victim in many ways throughout the show—ways that made me want to tear my hair out—yet there is clearly still something fundamentally wrong with him. Why he can’t turn away from the crime and sleaze we ultimately see in Breaking Bad, what drives him further and further off the cliff, is what the show wonderfully teases out over six seasons.
Throughout the series, Jimmy’s story is improved through various characters serving as foils and parallels, all with their own justifications for rule breaking and criminality. The ultimate question posed by all the characters’ respective declines, I think, is what happens when one steps outside of polite society (even if only slightly, at first). What happens when you begin to think that the rules don’t fully apply to you? What kind of entitlement does that necessitate and breed, what kind of slippery slope can you fall down, and how do you get out of it? How do people justify it, and what does it do to their conscience? The show, to me, is about the effects of social order (and the lack of), and the various responses to disillusionment with one’s life and society.
Everything here is well executed. The show is very pretty. It fully utilizes the backdrop of New Mexico: a setting that is uniquely American yet perhaps underappreciated. It also convincingly sets the tone, with minor scenes often displaying details in the set design and plot points that strongly evoke a certain time and place. The acting is phenomenal all around, though the highlight is absolutely Rhea Seehorn as Kim Wexler, who over and over again gave impressively revealing performances beneath the cool exterior of a highly compartmentalized woman.
What I find most compelling about the show, however, is how it is able to deliver such a nuanced story in a digestible format. I always felt like I could clearly follow what certain scenes or actions may say about the characters, and throughout its run I greatly enjoyed considering what I understood the questions posed by the show to be. I’ve loved watching this show over the past couple of months and found myself thinking about the characters often. Compare this to other shows or films that provide too little for the audience to grab onto, leaving the importance of their characters and themes to simply fly over the viewers’ heads, or leaving them struggling to decode the technical details of the plot rather than what the plot is in service of (I’m thinking of Westworld here).
Better Call Saul is not an art house film, sure, but it is a complex and interesting story that is nevertheless easily understood. It’s not that it is a morality tale spoon-fed to the viewer. Rather, this is a show with a lot to say about various facets of life that invites many possible interpretations, which it consistently demonstrates very well in its construction. I think there is something to be said about media that does not lose mainstream viewers—while I can certainly appreciate media that demands more of the viewer (or indeed is not for everyone!), it is a difficult skill to actually engage most of your viewers such that they are able to and want to ruminate on the media’s content and draw their own conclusions.
I’ll end by noting the two main exceptions I found to the quality of the show. First was Giancarlo Esposito’s performance as Gustavo Fring, which somehow came off as stilted and one-dimensional in comparison to the magic displayed in Breaking Bad. The second was Mike Ehrmentraut’s motivations. I adore Mike, but his decline felt like it missed a couple steps toward the end of the gradation, especially given the significant time dedicated to his story. I did not find the ending to be a flaw, as I know some folks do. I can understand why some may be disappointed, but after sitting on it, the ending has grown on me such that I now can’t really see it going any other way.