[8.3/10] I still don’t know what to make of our black and white flash-forwards to Cinnabon Gene. I’m always apt to take The Wire’s approach to introductions like these, where they’re meant as microcosms of the season’s themes. But the problem with that approach is that we’ve already seen that from Jimmy.
Our cold open sees Cinnabon Gene panicking, worrying that he’s in too deep trouble to recover and looking for a way out, only to decide to take matters into his own hands. That was his trajectory last season and before, recovering from his disciplinary suspension and crafting scheme after scheme to topple Chuck and reclaim his place on the mountain.
But what strikes me about our glimpse of Cinnabon Gene in “Magic Man” is how hard he’s working not to be identified as Saul Goodman. He waits it out in the diner. He stays holed up in his home listening to the police blotter to make sure no one’s coming after him. He seems willing to kill, or at least color outside the lines, to keep this random cab driver from Albuquerque from outing him as the once and future Saul.
And yet, when we see him in the past (present?) as Jimmy McGill, we see how hard he is working, how much effort he’s putting into making himself into Saul Goodman. No one knows for sure where those black and white segments are going or what they mean, but there’s a contrast at play. Cinnabon Gene is doing everything he can to run away from the life and persona of Saul Goodman, and Jimmy McGill is doing everything he can to establish it.
Unfortunately that may come at the expense of his relationship with Kim Wexler. Look, I’ve been unhappily predicting the death or departure of Kim Wexler for multiple seasons now, so take this all with a grain of salt. Better Call Saul is a slow-burn show, and the rare seeming dissolutions between Jimmy and Kim have all settled into detente.
Still, however much she may sublimate it, Kim is clearly still taken aback at how ready Jimmy is to throw away his brother’s name after his speech in the season 4 finale. She’s clearly not enamored with him tossing aside his elder law practice and embracing his mercenary efforts to represent abject criminals using unsavory methods. It feels, as it has for some time, like this is headed for a breaking point, but for now Kim just makes gentle comments and winces when she sees Jimmy’s plan and doesn't want to interfere despite her disapproval.
That’s the subtle theme to “Magic Man” -- partners with different styles who are each, in their own way, trying to make it work despite cracks forming at the seams. That’s certainly true for Nacho and Lalo. The former still finds himself being the subtler, more subdued businessman who is content to keep a good thing going, while the latest Salamanca boss to show up shares his relatives’ more impulsive and violent natures.
There’s tension there, and “Magic Man'' only teases at how the differences in their approaches -- to scouts complaining of a stepped on package, to the operations of their safe house, to relations with Fring -- might create fissures later. But the simple methods of how the two deal with people seem to suggest there’s problem along the way.
That’s magnified by the hint that Nacho might be tipping Gus off as to what his boss is thinking. Nacho and Eduardo don’t have the only strained partnership here. Lalo sniffs out the fact that Gus is giving him inferior product and is suspicious of the construction problem that “Michael” and Werner were involved in.
Despite that, “the chicken man” has perfect excuses ready-made. He blames inferior drugs on Werner absconding with the originals and Gus replacing them with the local supply. He blames Werner’s run and Michael’s chase on internal theft. He credits the construction plans to a “chicken cooler.” It’s the perfect set of alibis, ones that even the preternaturally prepared Mr. Fring probably wouldn’t have been able to foresee without a little help from inside the Salamanca organization.
That’s what makes Nacho’s position so interesting, despite the fact that he’s only officially a small part of this episode. He is, once again, potential caught between two very dangerous men. Lalo is not like Tuco or even Hector. He seems smarter, knowing when the product is substandard, piecing things together, and choosing to mistrust Gustavo rather than hate him. He seems like a worthier adversary to Fring and a greater threat to Nacho than his introduction last season suggested.
But all’s not well in Gustavo’s organization either. While Fring may have staved off the threat of the Salamancas vis-a-vis Werner, Mike is still smarting from it. This is Better Call Saul, so it’s dramatized nicely and subtly. As Mike is sending the remaining members of Werner’s crew on their way, replete with different destinations and means of transportation, he gets little bits of the business from Werner’s guys.
When one of them tells Mike that Wenrer’s death had to happen, because he was “soft,” Mike knocks him over with a right hand that punctures the already awkward air of the moment. It’s easy to think that Mike, having just told these guys to keep their mouths shut about what happened in perpetuity, is punishing his charge for already breaking that code. But when another of his men simply tells Mike that Werner “was worth fifty of you,” he lets it slide.
It’s a moment of discretion that reveals that Mike’s beef wasn’t with the first unfortunate recipient of a knuckle sandwich opening his yap. It was that he badmouthed Werner. Mike is a professional. He does what needs to be done. But Werner was his friend, and he’ll brook one of his guys standing up for their deceased boss, even if it breaks the vow of silence, but he won’t stand for one of them spitting on his grave like that.
It’s also enough to spark a temporary divorce between Mike and Gus. Breaking Bad fans know that this split won’t last forever. But however professional Mike is, it’s interesting to see him stand on principle once again here. He knows how to keep his own mouth shut and keep the heat off. Despite that, he’s still sore from what Gus ordered him to do. He scoffs at Werner’s widow receiving “compensation.” And he’s angry enough at what he had to do to his friend that he’s willing to forego getting “paid to do nothing” while Gus waits for Lalo’s departure before restarting construction.
It’s the kind of principled stand that Jimmy seems almost wholly unwilling to make at this point. Instead, free of the burden of being “Chuck’s lousy little brother” he has the freedom to indulge in his showiest, most colorful shtick. Look, there’s something still a bit tragic at seeing Jimmy continue down this path toward criminality and a lucrative lowest common denominator life. But there’s also an absolute thrill to seeing him work his titular magic.
For one thing, his business plan is legitimately clever. It’s neat to see him parlaying his dangerous phone business into the start of his criminal practice. Plying those contacts, understanding the need of that crowd for legal representation, is a smart move. At the same time, it’s fun to see the montage where he pitches his services to an array of motley customers. It’s a treat to see his old film crew pop into the courtroom and put his old colleague on the spot in a dose of guerilla marketing. There’s surely more/worse to come, but Saul Goodman has been taken off the leash, and it’s entertaining, if nothing else, to see him barking at full volume.
But it seems to portend bad things with Kim. It’s not lost on the show the couple are, more or less, in the same business at this point. She is helping the indigent and those who need a second chance pro bono, while he’s representing anyone with a pulse and rap sheet. But they’re operating in the same courtrooms, fighting the same DAs, and surely, likely to conflict in meaningful ways down the line.
The first, and gentlest of those conflicts comes when Kim tries to convince one of her clients to take a plea. She tries her way, the honest method, the frank method, and gets nowhere. Jimmy offers one of his usual schemes -- pretending to be a DA who’s pulling the deal for new evidence -- and Kim rejects it. After he pushes harder, she rejects it more curtly, and yet another of cracks in the foundation emerge for the couple who could be partners at home but not at the office.
At the end of the day, though, Kim goes for it. She does it without Jimmy’s help, but she uses his plan, and sure enough, her client listens to reason (or fear) and goes along with what she believes is the right thing for it. Afterward, though, she walks into the stairwell and looks like she’s going to be sick, like it hurts doing this in a way that it doesn't, and hasn’t, for Jimmy, another burr in the saddle for another pair in a partnership that’s having trouble.
That’s the problem though -- Jimmy’s methods work. They’ve always worked, and as long as he strived to rise above them, to put his hustle to good use, to harness his powers for good, now Jimmy is formally going by Saul, and intends to unleash that beast. It’s a thrill to see him in action, but also a touch sad, because we know where that path leads.
It leads, among other places, to a man willing to do whatever he can to shed that name. It leads to a sad middle aged schlub slinging cinnamon buns to mall patrons. It leads to guy who has to quake in his boots that the cops could be around any corner, and that some loudmouth in a tracksuit could be an old ghost coming back to haunt him. “Magic Man” gives us both ends of the Saul Goodman spectrum here, the before and the after. And neither portends great things for the man trying desperately to get your call, and the man who resolutely ends his own call for help.
(As an aside, rest in peace Robert Forster. It’s nice to see him make one last(?) appearance in the Breaking Bad-verse after his great turn in El Camino.)
