Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Binge, Fringe, or Singe? is our television series that will cover the latest seasons, miniseries, and more. Binge is our recommendation to marathon the reviewed season. Fringe means it won’t be everyone’s favourite show, but is worth a try (maybe there are issues with it). Singe means to avoid the reviewed series at all costs.

Warning: Major Better Call Saul spoilers are throughout this entire review. Reader discretion is advised.

For years, I wondered how it was even possible that anyone could call Better Call Saul a better show than Breaking Bad, particularly when the former felt so indebted to the latter to me. I was, admittedly, a late comer to the series, but was still unquestionably hooked when I got started, but I still felt like Breaking Bad was more distinct. Better Call Saul seemed to be a series of two tales: Saul Goodman’s origins as Jimmy McGill, and the precursors to what would wind up being the setting for Walter White in Breaking Bad (with the Salamancas and Gus Fring’s operation being detailed, and ultimately clashing, as to set the tone for Vince Gilligan’s previous show that takes place later chronologically than most of Better Call Saul). These two storylines existed mostly independent of one another, but occasionally they would circle back around. Outside of the plot threads stemming from McGill and Mike Ehrmantraut at the start of Better Call Saul, they almost always felt individualistic. I love Better Call Saul, but it didn’t feel succinct.

Until this sixth and final season, that is.

Now that the entire series is resolved, while I still can’t agree with those that prefer Better Call Saul to Breaking Bad, I know completely understand how someone would feel that way. In ways, it absolutely is stronger: its narrative complexities certainly feel juicier, and its patient crawl certainly rivals the manic waltzes of Breaking Bad (at this point, it really is all about subjectivity). While Walter White represents a suffering citizen that reaches his breaking point and becomes America’s number one villain, Jimmy McGill is a little more of a cryptic creature: someone who seems to always be devolving, and yet he was always inherently a bad seed that took short cuts (the series, particularly the finale “Saul Gone”, reminds us of this quite frequently). Was he destined to be a swindler, or did he felt like he had to be because of his brother Chuck (brilliant lawyer and controlling, jealous sibling that he is)? The entire sixth season was showcasing the end of a series built upon deception and the decisions to choose chaos every single morning, but the finale “Saul Gone” paints a different picture. It almost feels like a Lynchian awakening, if you look back on the entire series now: small glimpses of the future as we are stuck in the past.

This is fully realized by the severely broken finale, where the entire episode is made up of fragments of everything. We see Jimmy as himself, as Saul Goodman, and as Gene Takavic, all before this lone wolf decides he needs to designate himself as James McGill once and for all and own up to all of his malfeasances.This is achieved with the ongoing pondering: what if we can change one thing about our pasts? Whether we use a time machine or just try to right one wrongdoing (thanks for the stickler response, Walt), what would we do to rectify what we’ve done? Mike wouldn’t have done that one job that got him looped into crime. Walt would have handled Gray Matter Technologies differently. Chuck maybe wouldn’t have changed at all, despite his fascination on the subject matter of corrective-based time travel (so says his literature of choice). I thought Jimmy McGill would have acted similarly, but apparently that isn’t the case. He looks like he is at his worst in “Saul Gone”, but he manipulates all of his much-needed chess pieces (his legal representative Bill Oakley, his ex-wife — and the strongest lawyer in the entirety of the show — Kim Wexler, and even the widowed Marie Schrader) one last time. He won’t be fleecing them, like it seems (I was particularly livid with Jimmy when it seemed like he was going to con the vulnerable Kim out of her relinquishment of guilt). He’s going to be bringing closure to all of the sins of his past. He was able to con his way from entire lifetimes of sentencing down to a mere seven and a half years (plus additional stipulations like much-needed ice cream every week). This was his way of assuring himself that he’s still the best lawyer in his own mind. Then, it was time to destroy this hail Mary by coming clean.

See, this finale isn’t about how scummy Jimmy is or was. It’s about his ability to change his course for good. Where has being awful gotten him? Well, before we stay on track with his thought process, we need to do what Better Call Saul did and look backward. Why did I think Better Call Saul was a brilliant show but not quite untouchable? Like I said: I thought it was two separate stories happening at once. However, season six squashed this mindset I had about the show. These aren’t two independent series at all. What is really going on is the relaying of the rippling effects of McGill’s poor actions behind the scenes. See, his get-rich-quick schemes, and his smooth screwing over of innocent people only work temporarily: McGill lived in the moment but wasn’t really paying attention to the long term results and constants of his nonsense. Well, that “Breaking Bad” prequel storyline was more-or-less an analysis of his worst decision coming back to bite him in the ass: working with Lalo Salamanca. When I say this is his worst decision, I mean in terms of his comeuppances, mind you (I would argue that destroying the lives of those close to him for his own personal gain are far more detestable). We start the sixth season wondering what is going to happen to Nacho Varga and Lalo Salamanca, particularly because the latter survives his execution attempt. McGill is in cahoots with Salamanca (partially out of fear, of course). Nacho is quickly done away with (we were all very sad, but he went out in a blaze of impassioned glory), but there’s still Lalo, and he’s doing whatever he can to get what he wants: vengeance.

He wants to destroy Gus Fring and whoever else is associated with him because of his near-death experience, but first he needs to talk with his lawyer (who else but Jimmy McGill). Meanwhile, we cut back to his own storyline, where he has turned Kim Wexler into a devious demon of her own (if anything, she begins to seem more corrupted than Jimmy at moments). They are trying to screw over one Howard Hamlin: Kim’s former cohort from the Hamlin, Hamlin & McGill firm who really is the most innocent main character in all of Better Call Saul. Jimmy and Kimmy have been painting him out to be a coked-out psychopath that is out of control and can’t be trusted. His reputation is well on its way out, thanks to the depraved depths that the husband-and-wife lawyers are willing to go in order to screw him. He finally cracks in the same way that Chuck does: by telling the truth that’s been deduced by their startling intelligence, and yet no one believes them as they’ve already been pegged as “crazy”. Howard says that enough is enough, and he storms over to Jimmy and Kim’s place to rip them to shreds. No one else is going to listen to him (outside of his loving wife), so he may as well hurt those that hurt him the most. He just needs to find out why they went through all of this trouble.

He is in a blind rage by the time that Lalo coincidentally shows up, and by now, Jimmy and Kim realize that the jig is up and that they must now protect Howard. Why should he believe them now when they say that he needs to leave? Well, he chooses to ignore them, but Lalo has also had his own fair share of setbacks, so he doesn’t have time for whatever this scuffle is. He shoots Howard without a second’s thought, so he can figure out his next step with Jimmy. That’s how the first half of season six ended with “Plan and Execution”. The first two episodes of the second half wrap up Better Call Saul as we know it. Lalo gets his from Gus (something any Breaking Bad fan can predict, for obvious reasons). Mike is forever tethered to crime, and we sadly see where this, too, winds up within Breaking Bad (if not, the lingering callback shot on the automatically run parking attendant arm in “Waterworks” reminds us that he is long dead and no longer needed). What’s left for us to ponder is what will happen to Jimmy post Breaking Bad (or, really, what happens to Kim at all). There’s no time for this. In “Fun and Games”, we cut to Saul Goodman, fully realized, and that’s the end of that.

The final four episodes are in that black-and-white post Breaking Bad footage that we’ve been teased with season by season, as we got small snippets each season premiere. Jimmy is no longer Saul. He’s Gene Takavic after he evacuates from Albuquerque: a manager at a Cinnabon in Nebraska. Some people recognize who he is, but he’s left this life behind him. But, what if he hasn’t? We’ve only seen a bit of colour show up in these sequences, and two of the three instances are in the form of the Saul Goodman commercials reflecting in Gene’s glasses: he yearns not for the past, but for this identity. It was only a matter of time that he would revert back to his own ways. We only see that one partially colour shot in the series premiere, but the second reflection on Saul Goodman would come in “Waterworks”: the penultimate episode when Gene realizes that he has gone full Saul again. He never actually escaped. Saul was always there, waiting to cut corners and commit profitable crimes. These four final episodes of the “Gene” days are brilliantly lifeless. All of the lustre and colour in Jimmy’s life is gone. When someone recognizes him as Saul and wants him to come back in for one last score, he’s in. Only he cannot help himself, and he’s prepared to keep scheming again once he starts. Everyone from Better Call Saul is dead or is going to die (in Breaking Bad), outside of Kim Wexler, but we will see what has happened to her shortly. Everyone important in Jimmy’s life is gone, and almost all of it is at his own hand.

Better Call Saul starts with Jimmy practicing law for geriatrics, and there’s a certain charm to this (even if he’s wanting to make some serious cash out of his work more than actually helping the elderly). In “Waterworks”, he seems microseconds away from choking Marion: the mom of a goon that was working with Gene that is smart enough to catch on (via the laptop that her son purchased with that Gene scheme money, and the very device that Gene teaches her to use). She uses Ask Jeeves (remember, late 2000’s) to discover that Gene is actually Saul, and she is swift to report him. Gene/Saul/Jimmy has a quick change of heart when he is at his darkest and flees while Marion uses her Life Alert button to report his dangerous ways. Meanwhile, Kim has renounced her excellence as a lawyer to have a new life. She works at Palm Coast Sprinklers and leads a rather mundane life, all while burdened with the guilt of Howard’s death. Eventually, she cracks (all with a little prodding by Saul, who also wrote her off while they signed divorce papers years earlier in typically garbage fashion). Every time Jimmy comes back into her life, her state worsens. She recognizes this. They’re not good for one another. She stated just as much in “Fun and Games” when she gave up her entire life. She returns to Albuquerque to finally do what needed to be done: change her course. She visits Howard’s widow, Cheryl, to confess everything. Kim’s fate is up in the air, as she could be sued for everything she has in a civil suit.

Jimmy (as Gene) is caught in the garbage, trying to call the vacuum service number that has granted him immunity and secrecy before (and some of his clients, particularly Walt). He loses the parts of his throw-away phone that he needs, and it’s too late. The police already know where he is. He is oozing in sludge and you can almost smell his stench off of the screen: there couldn’t be a more apt image. We now cut back to Jimmy’s decision in court to finally be a good person. Bad never got him anywhere. This is his opportunity to finally change his course. He has accepted what is likely the remainder of his life in prison, but that’s okay. Maybe with good behaviour — something that’s a new concept to him — he can get out and just be James McGill. No more running, lying, or hurting. He doesn't have to be the screw up that Chuck made him feel like, or the partner or conveyor of crime that he was known for by an entire nation. The series ends on less of a bang than Breaking Bad’s “Felina", but this also isn’t Breaking Bad. It’s Better Call Saul: a more poetic slow burn. Jimmy doesn't have to go out in a fire of bullets like Walt. He can change his course. He does just that. We’ll never fully know what comes after, but that’s kind of the point. We only ever saw the story when Saul was involved. Saul was always present in Jimmy, as long as he's been swindling and playing. Saul is finally gone by the series' end (hence the episode's name). We won't see what else comes post Saul. We do see Jimmy connect with Kim one last final time, with that final showing of colour: a flame and the ends of their cigarettes (the final dregs of their old lives, and a farewell to the Saul that once was with these final breaths). She leaves, quite distanced from Jimmy (they’re separated by prison lot fences, but they can see each other from afar). She’ll never get to know Jimmy McGill as he actually is (not really, anyway): only the Saul side. This is the same for us as well.

Better Call Saul was always’ more Peter Gould’s baby than Vince Gilligan’s (the latter is more of a grandfather, considering that Breaking Bad birthed Better Call Saul), and so it was only fitting that he had all hands on the finale (Gilligan wowed us with the second last episode “Waterworks” in a similar fashion). “Waterworks” is the kind of explosion that fans were expecting from the finale, but that’s far more in Gilligan’s style than it is Gould’s. “Saul Gone” is more haunting and sound, as it eases us out of this world. We must say goodbye to all of these memorable characters, and it’s difficult considering how strong these performers have been this final season. Bob Odenkirk as Jimmy/Saul/Gene is as multifaceted and temperamental as ever. Tony Dalton (as Lalo) is impossible to hate as the Devil himself, whereas we finally get major catharsis from Michael Mando’s Nacho as he is slain. What more do I need to say about Breaking Bad veterans Jonathan Banks (Mike) and Giancarlo Esposito (Gus) that hasn’t already been said all of these years? Patrick Fabian is able to showcase texture to the sidelined Howard, and it’s highly welcomed (it took a lot for him to snap, but what a snap this is). The award goes to Rhea Seehorn’s Kim Wexler, who is astonishing and painful to watch (especially during her downward spiral and rock bottom); she shouldn’t have been wrapped up in all of this, and yet she was, and now she’s paying for it. All of this is captured in the series’ signature sepia-tinged look, until the Gene years (although the shadowy greyscale look suits Better Call Saul brilliantly); I may prefer Breaking Bad, but this show has it beat in the visual department as the legal neo-noir that it is.

The usage of karma and deeply-rooted corrosion of this sixth season of Better Call Saul is what solidifies the series as one of the best of our time. To finally see where all of this gradual building leads to is so satisfying. This season is easily the best television of 2022 (and it's actually quite a strong year on the small screen). Almost every episode is full of extreme tension (even “Nippy” and its low stakes heist had me scrambling in my seat). Seeing the demises of souls and careers has been heartbreaking (this lawyer helps others out of their problems, and yet Jimmy destroys everyone around him). There is finally resolution within calculated, cogent chaos. Better Call Saul has been equal parts beautiful and devastating this year. It's unfortunate to see all of the damage being caused, but it almost feels chemical how nicely everything merges together. Better Call Saul is now one cohesive piece of personal demons coming back to haunt a perpetrator, as well as the begging of his own personal expulsion of Saul Goodman. The series is all a flashback: Jimmy looking back and wanting to change everything (maybe even whilst locked up, he reminisces on his poor choices); he can't help but be caught up in the Gene years and cut ahead to his present occasionally, but he makes sure to scurry through all of his mistakes and aftermaths to know how he got here. To understand Saul, we had to understand Jimmy, but he needed to exercise and exorcise Saul in order to finally be himself. He's finally free in his own eyes. You may see an awful human being with a change of heart, a misunderstood soul that went too far, or a cancer that will never be worthy of forgiveness. It doesn't matter. Jimmy McGill is finally absolved of his sins. You can't call for him anymore. All you can do is finally be able to call Better Call Saul what it is: a crime, legal drama masterpiece.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.

Better Call Saul Season 6: Binge, Fringe, or Singe?

Written by Andreas Babiolakis