Dispatches from the Fury Road: Saul Overman
Mild spoilers for the Better Call Saul finale but I’ve tried to speak obliquely for anyone who somehow misses this part here…and if you missed it, then why am I writing it? So if you have a go at me online I can point at this and take the higher ground.
When Aesop was originally banging on about being careful what you wish for, I’m convinced he had Better Call Saul in mind.
After seven years of masterful storytelling we finally saw that moment we’d all been waiting for when Jimmy McGill finally transformed into Saul Goodman. It happened so suddenly that I wondered at the time if I’d zoned out and missed a chunk of the episode. Instead it was presented to us with a whiplash inducing jump cut that was the editing equivalent of ripping off the band aid. Finally we had the shonky lawyer we all loved on Breaking Bad…and I was devastated.
If you’re friends with any fans of the prequel series, then I’m sure you’ve already heard variations on this theme. We were true believers in Slippin’ Jimmy. We’d talk at length as to why the series was a work of art and then; after a quick glance over both shoulders to make certain strangers weren’t listening in, we’d confess that we liked Better Call Saul more than Breaking Bad. It feels like blasphemy even now, but our dedication to this idea is so pure we can’t help but share this opinion with you.
Co-creator Peter Gould has often stated that they thought Jimmy would embrace the Saul persona by the end of the first season but in the process of writing they fell in love with Jimmy and his supporting cast. Chuck, Howard, Nacho, and the spellbinding Kim Wexler were too good to be glossed over so we could supposedly get to the good bit. It wasn’t just the writers who fell in love with the characters. We did too! I could have gladly marinated in this world for another six seasons, but this moment was always looming no matter how much we hoped it would never arrive. Knowing the turn was inevitable also gave the story a specific friction that was weaponised against us. Even in the episodes that were the funniest, we knew Jimmy’s future and that future was a bummer. For once a prequel felt necessary and important.
Now the story is finally over, and the finale was perfect. It was everything I loved about the series. It ended like it had to end. It ended in the right place. We were allowed to say goodbye to a few characters that had been important to the story of Jimmy. We bore witness to the final moments of Cinnabon Gene. We revelled in the final dance of Saul Goodman. And we were allowed to say goodbye to deeply flawed Jimmy.
Even more importantly we had a little more time with Kim Wexler, the most glorious of characters in any TV show. Who knows where Kim’s story goes from here, but I’d like to think she finds the grace that has been missing throughout her life. Heck, I’d love to watch a Kim spin-off series where Rhea Seehorn barely reacts to all the characters we meet, and we all sit at home nodding, knowing exactly what she’s thinking in every scene. What an unbelievable performance. In the end Kim took the title away from Mike as my favourite Breaking Bad character…and I loved Mike. I’m as shocked as anyone.
Throughout the episode I kept recalling the Godfather trilogy. How decisions made have weight and consequences. How hubris can lead the smartest people away from the goal. I thought about Michael’s confession in the final Godfather movie. I thought about that final door closing on Kay at the end of the original film. Better Call Saul was in many respects a smaller story, but it was emotionally epic in all the right ways. The sharing of the cigarette, the only part of the scene that was in colour, was so beautiful. Not many words spoken because not many were needed. Then that final shot of the two characters with the great divide between them, barbed fences reaching up high, knowing they’ll never have an opportunity to spend time together again.
Devastating.
Beautiful.
And here’s that word again: perfect.
After the finale finished I started thinking about what TV showrunners owe us as viewers. When you invest in a series you are committing to hanging out with characters and storylines that can span many hours spread out over weeks, months, or years. The longer the commitment, the bigger the investment, and in turn that raises the stakes. Meanwhile a disappointing movie can be endured in a couple of hours and forgotten soon after. That explains why my ire towards Eternals manifests as an indifferent shrug while I will readily pontificate that Falcon and the Winter Soldier was akin to listening to a Kenny G cover band.
(FYI I love Kenny G the person and you should check out the documentary about him. Click here to find out more. It is genuinely fantastic.)
It must be difficult to produce a TV show. You’re trying to balance your creative vision against the hopes and desires of the viewers. If you’re writing a mystery you’re attempting to find twists and turns that will keep the hive mind that flourishes in the dark recesses of the Internet from predicting all your show’s twists. Even when you are true to the basic tenets of your story, it doesn’t mean it will appeal to everyone. I loved the latest season of Barry but know several friends tuned out because they thought the show had become too dark. I would counter that the very first scene of the pilot is Barry walking around an apartment after shooting a stranger dead in their bed. To me It has always been dark. Instead I think what my friends are really saying is that they didn’t like the way the show lent into the consequences of Barry’s violent acts, and would have preferred to watch another seven seasons of all the melodramatic acting that thrived in Gene Cousineau’s workshops.
If a TV show is to survive creatively it must take some big swings. When it works, a show can achieve greater heights. I was evangelical about season one of The Leftovers. For the next two seasons it reinvented itself and ended up being one of the rare TV shows that arguably finishes on its best episode. How I don’t have a Wu-Tang Clan inspired tattoo of Nora’s face across my chest is a remarkable feat of self-control.
Sometimes a show reinvents itself and it doesn’t connect. Season three of Westworld is a prime example of this. I appreciated that they took a chance, but it left me underwhelmed. I loved the first two seasons though, so when season four began I gave the premiere a go with all my fingers crossed. I was worried at first as they reinvented the show again and sighed at the thought of another season where the Mystery Box storytelling took precedence over characters. Yet this time it worked and reinvigorated my faith in the show. I’m not only back in the Westworld groove, but also the feeling has returned to both of my hands after I finally uncrossed my fingers.
I don’t believe anyone sets out to make a show that disappoints their audience. Creators are just following their muse to do their best, but it can appear sometimes that their muse is singing off key. I stayed the course with Friday Night Lights even if Landry found himself embroiled in a season 2 story arc that was a serious misstep. Luckily the rest of the series kept me engaged and by the time season three began, we all made an unspoken pact with the creators that we’d just pretend that storytelling choice never happened. “Clear eyes, full hearts, lose the Landry murder subplot”, was our secret slogan.
The reality is that creators don’t owe us anything other than their best effort. From there it all comes down to the individual. I’ll stay committed to any TV show if it feels true to itself. I love My Brilliant Friend but if season four turns into Italian Gossip Girl with Matt LeBlanc playing a version of Joey Tribbiani, I’ll break out in the meat sweats. I want creators who stay true to their vision and ignore the hordes of individuals demanding the results they want. This is how we end up with Marvel movies that confuse an Easter Egg with substantial storytelling.
Imagine if the Better Call Saul creators had acquiesced and given us Saul Goodman at the end of season one? We’d have missed out on the rich storytelling and the many beautiful performances. We’d have been deprived of the opportunity to fall in love with Kim Wexler. Sure, I wouldn’t be emotionally devastated today, but some part of me would feel lesser for missing out on this wonderful journey. In the end they gave me what I needed and in the process, let me appreciate I never truly knew what I wanted in the first place. What a perfect ending. Show time is over.
Goodbye Jimmy.
Goodbye Kim.
Goodbye Mike.
Goodbye Better Call Saul.
Justin Hamilton
Surry Hills
August 2022