Love this show, love these characters!!
I don’t know if the fact that Rebecca stays alive for another 10 years is due to the clinical trial, but it would be really annoying that Randall is right after all.
I was super excited to find out that Jack has a sister and that Toby and Kate adopted. However, I am still concerned that we haven’t seen Kate in the future, not even once...
And for Kevin, I’m so happy that he finds love and has a family. I do believe he’s trying to do better and the fact that Randall never cuts him some slack makes me hate him even more :sweat_smile:.
Can’t wait for next season!!
Phil is becoming too annoying. makes the whole show annoying.
[7.7/10] I’ll say this for The Good Place. I like that they’re basically running through all the love triangle permutations now rather than dragging them out unnecessarily. I’ll admit, I don’t exactly buy the possibility of Fake Eleanor and Chidi together, or Fake Eleanor being in love with Chidi, but I do buy it as a spur of the moment feeling that, with some reflection, she realizes isn’t real. (I’m less sold on the idea that Tahani and Chidi aren’t soulmates, because that seems like a better possibility.)
Still, I’ll say this for that part of the story -- it leads to the best thing in the episode, namely Fake Eleanor and Tahani hanging out together. The two characters have a fun dynamic, and watching them check out a BBC sitcom or put in hair extensions or snark at Jason and Janet’s wedding is a treat.
Heck, I even liked the Jason and Janet shtick. There’s something about someone who’s a complete dolt “falling in love” with someone who’s barely sentient but nevertheless nice to him that is weird but oddly sweet. The pair’s vows, entrance music, and little dance together are all absolutely charming even if it’s a semi-bizarre bit.
The only part of the episode that didn’t really work for me is Chidi’s indecision. I like the approach, showing Chidi’s paralyzed by choice, but it’s done in such a cartoony, over the top way that it’s hard to be too invested in his growth over the course of the episode. That said, his best friend knowing him well enough to do a “fake wedding day” test, and Chidi literally being killed by his indecision is a decent bit.
Overall, lots of laughs and good energy to this one, particularly the funny and endearing Tahani/Fake Eleanor portions and the strange Jason/Janet stuff.
I would score it with a 6 but it gets one more point by the Flamethrower.
A fitting conclusion to the show and a very 'real' way to end things. It wouldn't have felt right for the hot priest to give up his calling for love. And leaving it this way, having them both experienced it somehow makes it do much better. Fleabag left us behind at the end there too. She doesn't need us anymore.
P.s. Yes Claire. She deserves all the happiness
[8.1/10] Black Panther doesn’t have the aura of a Marvel Cinematic Universe film. Yes, it has the allies and enemies we’ve met in prior movies like Age of Ultron and Civil War. It has the jovial vibe among its main cast. And it has the mandatory, climactic third act battle, draped in CGI and the usual fanfare.
But it also stands apart from the rest of the MCU’s offerings. It is unabashedly Afrocentric in its focus and its approach. It is a plainly political film, meditating on the legacy of colonialism, the oppression of people of color around the world, and the push and pull of isolationism vs. global activism. Though squeezed into the standard, three act superhero structure, Black Panther takes its audience to a different space, one untouched by the rest of the world and, in some ways, untouched by the broader cinematic universe the film acts in concert with.
It is a uniquely, profoundly black take on the modern superhero film, one long overdue, if for no other reason than how it breathes new life into the familiar formula. There’s nothing wrong with comic book movies hitting certain standard notes of uncertainty, challenge, and self-realization. But Black Panther is a cinematic argument for broadening the franchise, showing the renewed, distinctive character these common stories take on, when they’re told from a fully-formed, confident, and different perspective.
That distinct atmosphere is the best thing about the film, alongside the clear camaraderie among its cast and characters. No hero is an island these days, and while the title character has a notable arc that’s done well, the most enjoyable portions of the movie emerge when the plot mechanics of that arc are set aside for Black Panther to chat, spark, and laugh with his tech-wiz sister Shuri (Letitia Wright), his altruistic ex Nakia (Lupita Nyong'o), and his fierce, principled guard Okoye (Danai Gurira). So much of these films depends on the chemistry and connection between the people the audience is asked to spend two hours with, and Black Panther soars on that front, building a rapport among those core characters that carries the day.
At the same time, Chadwick Boseman gives one of the best dramatic performances to grace a Marvel film. Thematically, the film centers on the notion of whether someone with a kind heart but also uncertainty about how and where to guide his people can be a good leader, and Boseman brings the inherent decency and heft to make these ideas land.
Black Panther constantly puts its title character between conflicting choices and impulses. T’Challa has to balance his inherent sense of mercy, shown to the leader of a challenging tribe, with his desire to deliver swift justice, shown when he threatens enemy of the state Ulysses Klaue in public. He has to reconcile his deep love for his father and his deep respect for his people’s traditions with his growing realizations that his forebears were men, not gods, who made mistakes, and that his homeland may need to change and evolve. He must square his country’s tradition of isolation, with the competing calls to share the nation’s wealth and knowledge in order to help those in need, or to use those resources to bring down the oppressors around the world who keep them in that state.
If there’s one area where Black Panther excels, it’s in creating a central character who’s pulled in multiple directions, on multiple dimensions, leaving him unsure what path to take and what sort of man to be, until the right direction is forged in fires of challenge and hardship. The film is a political story, a cultural story, a family story, and a personal story.
It’s just that Coogler and co-writer Joe Robert Cole seem not particularly interested in it being a superhero story. That’s not necessarily a problem. Films as tonally diverse as Logan and Deadpool have shown you can use the superhero framework to craft a multitude of different films with different approaches within the superhero framework. But there’s a sense in Black Panther that the comic book-y elements are perfunctory, that Coogler and Cole had a compelling story to tell about legacy, power, and obligation, couldn’t tell it without including the de jure superhero fireworks.
Black Panther is at its best when it shows its title character confronting his responsibilities as a citizen, son, and leader, or finding strength, challenge, and affection among his friends and family. And it’s at its weakest when it shows him punching and kicking those things in comic book movies that inevitably must be punched and kicked.
At times, Coogler and director of photography Rachel Morrison capture the same sort of raw intensity of combat that hews close to a boxing match from Creed. The close quarters combat of the challenges for leadership are tight and visceral, giving an immediate sense of the personalities clashing at the same time bodies are, and a digitally-stitched but nominally unbroken action sequence early in the film has the energy and fluidity of a splash page. But too often, the film’s fight sequences are a big jumble, edited to bits and nigh-impossible to follow from one blow to the next. Worse yet, the CGI is especially in these sequence -- digital characters move without weight, animated creatures and vehicles disrupt the immersion of a scene, and climactic fights between fully computer-generated figures in a computer-generated world feel like gameplay clips pulled from Mortal Kombat.
Despite the strength of the story that ends in that skirmish, the film ostensibly breaks little new ground in terms of its narrative. Notably, Marvel’s own Thor trilogy covers much of the same territory, from the prince questioning his place as king, to far off lands debating the appropriate level of engagement with the outside world, to unruly yet sympathetic relatives with an appetite to conquer angling for the throne.
But what makes Black Panther so refreshing is the perspective from which it approaches this material. There is a richness to the cultural wellspring that Coogler and his team draw from, one underutilized in big budget filmmaking. The film is rife with different hues, different pleasures and sore sports, that inform the movie’s sensibilities even as it applies them to the smash-and-then-find-yourself routine that the Marvel origin movies have nigh-perfected at this point.
It’s the critic’s crutch to see a film’s story as a metaphor for the film itself. And yet it’s hard not to see parallels between the story of T’Challa deciding to bring Wakanda into the rest of the world, and Coogler deciding to bring his Black Panther into the Marvel Cinematic Universe. One of the wonderful things about the MCU is the way that it can create a cohesive sense of place among different films, and foster the sense, through minor easter eggs and the occasional team-up, that all of these events are taking place in the same world.
But despite having a few of those continuity nods and connections, Black Panther feels like it occupies a world all its own, one full of its own color, character, and vibrancy. At the end of the movie, T’Challa opts for outreach, he decides to open Wakanda’s borders, and share his nation’s knowledge and culture with the world. With this film, Ryan Coogler & Co. do the same for Marvel, telling their own story in their own, but also bringing such a distinctiveness and a specificity to it that makes the world of these films a deeper, richer, better place for Black Panther’s presence within it.
[8.6/10] There’s often one line or stretch of an episode of BoJack that sums up the central idea of the episode. It’s usually a meaningful monologue of some kind, possibly one like the one in this episode, put over a montage of our protagonists in some state of contemplation or distress. Sometimes it’s a bit much, but oftentimes, it helps put a bow on everything we’ve seen.
Here, that’s Diane’s speech to Mr. Peanutbutter about what it’s like to be her. She talks about a constant feeling of your life being a puzzle, but one combining different sets, to where you feel like nothing fits. And then you realize, maybe it’s you that doesn't fit.
That’s a harrowing statement, one that everyone in the main cast has grappled with. Except that Diane posits there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, where you start finding a puzzle you belong in, and it’s worrying at first, but eventually it feels like home. That’s just as heartening as it is disconcerting to hear the “lost puzzle piece” analogy in the first place. And it’s true for most everyone.
Diane has found a lot of the success and happiness that she’s always been looking for. Her book is successful enough that she’s called for a signing. She’s comfortable enough with her relationship with Guy that she’s happy to move to Houston with nothing more than a word that Sonny is moving there with his mom. She’s happy with the person she’s become, fulfilled by the connection her work has for kids like Sonny and happy to be an “us” not a “me.”
Mr. Peanutbutter is still working on himself, but he’s finding out how to be a “me” not an “us” and it seems like a type of growth from him. He’s been a sillier, more comic relief character, but he too has had an arc of sorts. So it’s nice to see him find his own shade of self-assurance and progress, where he’s ready to really listen Diane (even if he finds writing frustratingly easy -- an amusing gag), and reassures her that if they’d met each other now, they wouldn’t be the people they were now, because their past relationship helped them get to this separate, happy place for both of them. It’s a beautiful sentiment that puts a nice button on things for them.
Todd gets a chance to grow too. His “puzzle where I don’t fit” situation is his family, where he was kicked out and felt like he didn’t belong, or at least that his mother didn’t want him. I’ll admit, the path to get to a repaired relationship with his mom is a little zany, but I like the two of them hashing that decision out, acknowledging that Todd has grown up (at least to some degree), but finding a place they can occupy in one another’s life.
Plus, classic Todd shenanigans! For all the dramatic stuff in this episode, I like that we also get to tie a bow on the business with Character Actress Margo Martindale! Todd concocting a zany scheme to allow his mom to “save” his life and pay back his kidney donation is a lot of fun. Martindale is a hoot as always, and her causing a panic attack due to being too damn good at acting is hilarious. The closing scene where she gets out of going to jail by needing to be in another indie film got a solid chuckle out of me.
The other person who feels strangely at home now is Princess Carolyn. I’ll admit, I don’t know if I really needed a romance between her and Judah, but I don’t mind it either. He’s always been there for her, supported her, and gone the extra mile for her, and that’s nice to see in a show where PC is always sacrificing her own happiness for other people. There’s something very Mad Men about where they go with that, but there’s worse blueprints to follow. (And Judah’s adorable literal, and very sweet song helps grease the wheels.)
I like where it takes PC professionally as well. The offer to run her own studio division is a great opportunity for someone who’s worked so hard to get where she is. And I like the notion that she’s gotten so lost in her work that she’s forgotten what her dreams were and isn’t quite sure what she wants. But the idea of building something that’s her own rather than taking a slice of something that somebody else built feels very true to her self-sufficient ethos, and if nothing else, I appreciate that Judah is a part of that, not an alternative to that.
But that leads us to BoJack, and one of the darkest, saddest chapters in his life, which is saying something. He gets a call from Angela, the executive who convinced him to turn his back on Kazz. He’s clearly relapsed, and already not in the best mindset. Angela offers him a faustian bargain -- they’ll edit him out of Horsin’ Around reruns so the studio can still make money off the show without the negative associations of his presence, but he’l have to sign away his back end for a one-time pay-off. Angela dresses it up as honoring Sarah Lynn and giving her legacy beyond being the girl that he killed, but it’s more craven B.S. just meant to keep the money train rolling.
BoJack guiltily signs the contract, but nearly burns it when she admits that she was bluffing when she told him that he had no choice but to throw Kazz under the bus back in the nineties. He blames every bad thing on that choice, on that lie, on a decision he feels manipulated into. But Angela gives him an “everything is bullshit” speech, and given where BoJack’s life is right now, he’s willing to believe it.
Because he is that puzzle piece that doesn't fit anymore. He’s not allowed to exist in the world as he once did. He’s literally being edited out of his own show. He returns to a house that he doesn't own and doesn't belong in anymore. And he sees the bright young aspiring actor who has the best brought out of him by his best friend, and when the clip ends, sees the haggard, drunk, horse who’s ruined it all staring back at him.
That’s a hard look. “Angela” sees so many of the characters having found peace, having made things better in their lives and grown by finding the place where they belong and the people they belong with. BoJack just gets message after message that he doesn't belong anywhere, that he’s hurt everyone he’s crossed paths with, that he’s the piece that doesn't fit, and it’s scary to contemplate where that might lead him.
[7.4/10] I miss the approach -- popularized by The Wire and practiced by shows as distinct from it as BoJack Horseman -- of having the penultimate episode of the season be where the major fireworks go off. It gives you a chance to recover and collect yourself, as a show and an audience, in the actual season finale. And it helps avoid the sense in the lead-up to the end that you’re getting more setup than payoff until the show pulls the trigger on its biggest events of the season.
That’s the problem with “Wiedersehen”, a perfectly good but not outstanding episode of Better Call Saul. It’s not as though nothing happens in the show this week. Lalo Salamanca starts making overtures and feints toward Gus. Werner makes a daring escape from the workmen’s facility. And Jimmy not only faces a denial of his reinstatement, but in his rage and disbelief, manages to sabotage his relationship with Kim that had otherwise seemed on the mend. But all of this feels more like setting the table for the resolution of the finale than anything complete.
Now maybe everything falls into places in this year’s finale and in hindsight, “Wiedersehen” ends up looking like a brilliant prelude. And maybe, when you load up the second-to-last episode of the season with the big happenings of the season, you just make your third-to-last episode the setup episode instead. But it’s hard not to feel like this episode amounts to one big question (or, perhaps, three subsidiary questions) that Better Call Saul only intends to answer next week.
That’s the job of television in some ways. For as daring and stylistically audacious as Better Call Saul and its predecessor series can be, they’re also both sound in terms of the fundamentals and attuned to the core rhythms of television. The show still knows how to end on a cliffhanger, on a tease, on something to leave your jaw on the floor and make you desperate to tune in again next week to see how things resolve.
Rest assured, I’ll be there next week, there to find out whether tension between Gus and the Salamancas reaches the next level, whether Mike is forced to make a hard choice after his ostensible friend flies the coop, whether Jimmy can rescue his legal career or relationship or sense of self. But “Wiedersehen” left me wishing we could just head on to those parts of the story, not just because those teases are so tantalizing, but because this week’s proceedings feel incomplete and even a little insubstantial without the other half of what’s set up here.
That’s especially true for the Nacho/Lalo/Gus portion of the show. Lalo is still a new character, introduced more than three-quarters of the way into the season. ‘Wiedersehen” makes good on the promising setup we’ve seen since early in season 4 -- where Nacho is trapped between the exacting demands of Gus’s well-oiled machine and the unpredictable, trigger-happy Salamancas.
But there’s more promise than proof in this episode. Sure, the conversation between the poised but firm Gus and the loose, freewheeling Lalo is tense and portentous. The prospect of Lalo nosing around Gus’s meth-distribution site portends significant moments for all involved in the episode to come. For now though, this feels like the beginning of the story, the introduction, rather than the culmination, or even a turning point, in the story between Gus and Nacho that Better Call Saul has been toying with this year.
(Don’t get me started on Lalo giving Hector his infamous bell, replete with painful backstory. Maybe I’m still just smarting from the fan service excesses of Solo: A Star Wars Story, but by god, not every iconic snippet or feature or accessory of a character needs an origin story. Sometimes, people just get a bell, or a pair of dice, or something practical to help them communicate, and you don’t need some writerly monologue to deliver weak exposition on how a character came into possession of whatever the object du jour is.)
The same’s true for Werner’s great escape. There’s meat on the bone in that portion of the episode, both in terms of character and scene construction. Rainer Bock absolutely sells Werner’s desperation, his simmering distress at having to remain separated from his wife, his crumbling efforts to hold it together and put a good face on things and do his job. And he also sells Werner’s cleverness, the Walter White-esque ingenuity of a middle aged nerd to find ways to be a spanner in the works for an otherwise well-oiled machine. His ability to find weak spots in the facility, and disguise camera flashes as energy surges, frames him as resourceful and desperate man, and the show manages to communicate that almost solely through the images of the aftermath of his escape.
Series co-creator Vince Gilligan’s also on board to direct this one, which means more than the franchise’s cinematographic trademarks like a shot from inside the hole drilled for the dynamite. It means extended, slow burn, tactile sequences where Werner goes very Hurt Locker in trying to check for faulty wiring. As there often is in the show, there’s a foreboding energy as this gentle man is in a tight spot. His hyperventilation, strains to hold it together, and careful efforts to fix the problem are all stretched out expertly through Gilligan’s camera’s journey through the darkness.
Maybe that’s enough action for one episode, especially one that’s leading in to a presumably eventful finale. But it also can’t help but seem like the show is saving the real excitement -- the inevitable dilemma between Mike’s understanding of and affection for Werner and the duties of his job -- until next week.
But you can make the argument that we get the majorest of major happenings on the Jimmy/Kim side of the episode this week. (Though I suspect I might feel differently after the season finale.) “Wiedersehen” opens up with Jimmy and Kim pulling off another brilliant scheme. It turns out that Kim demuring on Kevin’s request to change the Mesa Verde designs in Lubbock wasn’t a sign of her regular work seeming dull in comparison to her con artist thrills, but rather a prelude to her combining the two to pull off a miracle for her client using a less than savory method.
The entire sequence of her and Jimmy -- posing as a crutch-hopping single mom with a deadbeat brother -- earning the trust and sympathy of the Lubbock clerk and pulling the ol’ switcheroo on the plans is another enjoyable outing for the pair. It plays in the space this show has long lived in -- between wanting to pass judgment on these people for fraud and manipulation, but having so much fun watching them work. But a good con doesn't fix what’s eating Jimmy, his renewed and once-again rejected efforts to have Kim be his partner in law, not just his partner in crime.
That comes to a head when, after a trademark Jimmy McGill performance in front of the review board, his request for reinstatement is rejected. He gives all the right answers to the questions, quotes Supreme Court decisions, includes letters of recommendation, talks about what the law means to him. But he never mentions Chuck, the ghost who’s been haunting this season of Better Call Saul and proves a hindrance to Jimmy’s life even from beyond the grave.
Despite some complicated things going on under the surface, Jimmy has tried to separate himself from Chuck, to move past things, and so he expresses no remorse for what happened with his brother, what effect it had on Chuck’s life, anything specific to the man who used to be the most significant presence in Jimmy’s life. So of course he doesn't mention his brother at his hearing, and it’s what eventually dooms him.
It’s too much for Jimmy to bear. He acts out in a way we’ve rarely seen before. He feels the frustration of a year’s worth of (comparatively) good behavior down the drain, with another year in the offing. He experiences the despondency of expectations being punctured. And worst of all, he takes it out on Kim.
It’s a point I’ve probably beaten into the ground by this point, but Kim has stepped into the role that Chuck used to play for Jimmy. There’s loads of complicated consequences of that, but one of the biggest is that Jimmy projects his insecurities and his anger toward his brother onto her. He lashes out at her for seeing him as insincere, for seeing him as a “low life”, for thinking he’s not good enough to share an office with, charges he might as well be leveling at his dead brother.
Kim, to her credit, pushes back, pointing out how many times she’s been there for Jimmy, how often she looks out for him, takes care of him, drops everything to clean up his messes. There is this one pinnacle dream that Jimmy uses as the yardstick to measure whether he’s loved, overlooking all the other ways in which he has an incredibly good thing going that he sure as hell shouldn’t mess up in fit of pique after a bad disciplinary hearing.
But that’s what happens. I’m done trying to predict whether or not the Kim/Jimmy relationship will end, but after a brief dead cat bounce, there’s enough acrimony that Jimmy starts packing up his stuff. Issues that have been bubbling under the surface for both people in this couple breach here, and it’s hard to know whether things can be put back together.
The title “Wiedersehen” -- a German word meaning “meet again” or “reunion” -- suggests there’s more to come, another chance for Kim to help Jimmy become a lawyer again, through an appeal or a hail mary or whatever new scheme the duo can come up with. But damage has been done. That much is undeniable.
Even then, it feels like there’s more to the story. Season 4 of Better Call Saul has been superb as ever, but also interstitial. After the incredible build that gave us the McGill bowl and Chuck’s death in season 3, the show has been in reaction mode. It gives us the rocky road of Jimmy’s recovery, Kim reckoning with what she’s been a part of, Nacho falling into a tug of war between Gus and the Salamancas, and Mike starting his work with Gus in earnest. The former two are post scripts to stories, and the latter two seem like the beginnings of new ones. It remains to be seen whether the series will give us any resolution at all in its season finale or, like “Wiedersehen”, is waiting for something greater to come.
Loved the pilot, it doesn't happen a lot that i love a show from the start and that it had me fooled. I did not see this one coming. Can't wait to see how this show will go.
Jimmy knows now he only destroyed a copy and not the original tape (it's not evidence per se anymore and can argue with the board he didn't destroy evidence), meanwhile he got photos of Chuck's house (thanks Mike!) and I think he'll try to depict a narrative where Chuck is crazy and a danger to himself and he only tried to help his brother - even going as far as confessing to a crime we didn't do to make Chuck feel better. Basically, he can only be accused of breaking and entering to a point where he can argue wasn't with a malicious intent. Everything said and done, Chuck could potentially be also facing disbarment. Maybe they both lose the privilege to practice law or maybe just one.
[7.5/10] There is a lot going on in this nearly eighty minute bloat-fest of a reintroduction, so let’s start with the major sequence that show what Stranger Things does best.
The first is the opening flashback to Eleven’s massacre. I’m glad that Netflix included a content warning given recent events, because seeing an authority figure, even a tainted one, wander around a facility seeing dead children hit pretty hard. I’m usually able to emotionally separate fiction from reality when it comes to death and violence on screen, but in light of the real life images and stories we’ve been subjected to from Uvalde, Texas, it affected me more than I had expected.
All that said, it’s a very well done sequence. The surprise reveal of Brenner, the warm interactions between him and Ten, the utter chaos that slowly engulfs them, and the bloody, terrifying young Eleven staring back at him all sets a tone as the series kicks off its fourth season. Eleven is kind of a cinnamon bun, a mistreated child who deserves to have a normal life and be surrounded by people who love her. But she can also be dangerous, and that's wroth remembering too.
Hers is my favorite storyline in this overstuffed season premiere. It feels so sad and true to life to have a bright but socially awkward kid excited for school and the prospect of what the day could bring, only to have stuck up kids needle her, bad grades staunch her enthusiasm, and cruel bullies disrespect the things that she holds dear. Watching the dastardly queen bee make fun of Eleven when she talks about Hopper as her hero, or worse yet, wreck the diorama that Eleven made to honor him, makes your blood boil. You feel terrible for Eleven when she’s distraught from so much going wrong, but you also bear righteous anger on her behalf. You want her to give that callous popular girl a taste of her own medicine.
Yet, after that opening sequence, it’s low-key disturbing when Eleven reaches out with a raging fury, only to recall that she no longer has her powers. The mean girl deserves a little karmic recompense, but not to die. After seeing what Eleven did in a furor a mere seven years ago, it’s frightening to think what she could do if truly upset now.
It still might not be as scary as the closing horror sequence, when another popular girl, Chrissy, is tormented in her dreams and eventually raised and broken by some malevolent force. The Nightmare on Elm Street influences are hard to miss, but well-deployed. The show knows how to build suspense, with Chrissy’s horrifying insecurities about her weight turned into ominous moments that presage something more powerful reaching a claw into her psyche. The contrast between a seemingly nice young woman wanting to do anything to block out the sense that she’s losing her mind, before a skinless humanoid monsters ravages mind and body, makes for a disturbing conclusion to the episode.
The other half of that equation, though, is the biggest new character -- Eddie, a D&D enthusiast who plays guitar, sells drugs, and has been held back in high school for multiple years. I don’t know quite what to make of Eddie just yet. His big speech about the normies being afraid of D&D is pretty cheesy, but in other scenes, the character is charming and authentic, revealing a charismatic and recognizable type beneath all the countercultural bluster. He could easily fall into some standard tropes, but I’m curious to see where Stranger Things intends to go with him.
The third, and most impressive big sequence, is the intercutt between Lucas’ championship basketball game, and the climax to a D&D campaign hard-fought by Mike, Dustin, and Lucas’ little sister, Erica. The juxtaposition works to heighten both dicey “match-ups”, shows how one can be just as exciting as the other to the right crowd, and highlights the way in which Lucas and his friends are on different paths now. The shot-selection, scoring, and editing are all outstanding, and it’s the signature sequence of the episode.
I like the Lucas story well enough apart from it. We’ve gone a lot of places with the original kids already. Pointing him toward an attempt to break out of the Freaks and Geeks set, and instead position himself to get in with the popular kids to avoid bullying and ridicule, is a natural move for any dork who dreamed of being cool. It’s relatable and sad, as he asks his pals “as a friend” to try to move the culmination of their campaign, and instead sees empty seats where his compadres should be for his big game, and eventually watches them celebrate a successful bit of monster-slayage rather than his improbable game-winning heroics.
The Mike/Dustin/Erica business is solid too. We don’t get nearly as much in the way of character from them, but they build up the comedy this week. The montage of them reaching out to scads of people to sub for Lucas features the best humor in “The Hellfire Club”. And the choice to enlist Erica, replete with an American flag as a cape, no less, is inspired. Her routine works wonderfully in a D&D setting.
The rest of the storylines we see here vary from “solid” to “intriguing”, but don’t get enough oxygen to really confirm anything one way or another. I’m glad they’re following up on how Max’s life and attitude have changed after going through something as difficult as watching her stepbrother die. Again, the execution is a little generic, but it’s a rich vein worth exploring that makes what she went through in season 3 feel more meaningful.
I still love Steve and Robin as a pair, especially now that they have all their cards on the table. Robin working through the very real dangers of her crush on a fellow bandmate, that make it harder to muster up the courage to express your feelings even more than it normally is as a teenager, is all kinds of endearing and sympathetic. Her back-and-forth with Steve about the kind of people who pause Fast Times at Ridgemont High and being yourself is the right blend of sweet and funny. Again, we only gets wisps here, and Steve’s more comic relief than a character with a storyline, but I’m not necessarily complaining since he’s so good in that mode.
On the other hand, the other two points of his old love triangle remain dull. I’ve never given a damn about Nancy and Jonathan, and that hasn’t changed. Making pointing toward a potential break-up could be interesting, especially with Nancy pointed toward an ambitious school newspaper editor position and a future at a fancy college while Jonathan is pointed toward pot and scholastic rejection. But the characters, their relationship, and their new friends are all dull or, again, pretty standard archetypes. Another nerd character and a dimestore pothead foil for each of them does nothing for me.
Joyce and Murray fare a little better. We already have very good reason to suspect Hopper is back anyway, but Joyce muddling through an encyclopedia sales job while getting cryptic messages in the mail creates an immediate problem to solve. Her calls with Murray have a humorous bent to them, and the clue that Hopper’s alive is perfectly fine as a way to move that story along.
And that pretty much covers it. Even in an hour and twenty minutes, Stranger THings has to cover a lot of ground to reintroduce as much as it does here. Will Byers is pretty much an afterthought. We get one glancing interaction between Dustin and his girlfriend. There’s a new lead basketball player who’s surely fodder for a big kill later in the season. And, of course, there’s some new kind of Upside Down creature tormenting our heroes. With so many plots, only a handful of moments or characters truly have the chance to stand-out, and it tends to come with that trio of excellent sequences that remind you of the cinematic capabilities this crew has, even as the narrative feels jumbled from the jump.
It's a Charlie Kaufman film so don't expect something simple and easy to explain to your friends. This is a mind-altering, existentialist nightmare of a film, and that isn't a criticism. The fractured narrative equates to fractured memories, and as bizarre as the film is, it can resonate with any one of us.
I have a very big question ... If they used a gem and only brought back half down their father's body, why if they use another gem, the upper half of the body isn't appear for another whole day yet?
Ugh, I really want to like this show. I love the main show, so have nothing but high hopes... that keep getting dashed.
Everyone seemed to act in just inexplicable ways this episode. Danial Salazar went from 0 to batshit crazy in record time. Lorenzo Henrie is a horrible actor so Chris' psychotic break is just painful to watch because the actor can't pull it off. I like Travis' character, but it's going to be pure agony to have him and Chris off by themselves. It means more Chris in order to keep Travis visible. Nicks constant bathing in walker blood has gotten old. The mechanic is overused and it's only been a few episodes since he discovered that the blood hides him. He must stop at every walker and flap around in the blood like a spawning salmon.
[7.5/10] Actions have consequences. That may be the abiding theme that stretches across Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad. You make one small decision, and it pushes you in a certain direction. Then you make another and are pushed a little further. Then another, and another, and another. And before you know it, you’re a long way from where you started, finding yourself looking over your shoulder, worried about what’s lurking in your wake.
Gus decided to take out his business rival. Now he’s wearing bulletproof vests and ankle holsters in his own home and constantly monitoring his neighborhood for fear that vengeance will come. Saul decided to become a “friend of the cartel.” Now he’s got every scruffy-looking hump in New Mexico seeking to retain the legal services of “Salamanca’s guy.” And Kim decided to stay with Jimmy, to tolerate and even enable his coloring outside the lines. Now she’s living in fear of one drug lord while the goons of another are following her.
It’s one of the things I love most about Better Call Saul. (Not people being watched and pursued by drug-runners.) The mark of good storytelling is people making choices that stem from who and what they are, and then navigating the ripples and reactions of those choices. Everything has a cost. Everything has trade-offs. Every decision made means opening some doors and closing other. There may be no show on television more acutely aware of that fact than this one.
That gives “Hit and Run”, a calmer and more sedate episode after the grand events of last week, a bit of thematic oomph even when the show’s at slack tide. There’s comparatively few dramatic events in this installment. Nobody dies. Nobody has a white-knuckle confrontation. Nobody faces down mortal threats or serious peril. Everyone just stews in the messes they’ve made, or are still making, over the last handful of episodes.
Gus is properly paranoid. He divined from Hector’s reaction that Lalo lives. So despite seeming to have settled the most immediate threat with Nacho’s demise, he’s constantly worried that his rival will return with lethal impulses. He has Mike stretching his team thin, working guys for eighteen hour days, setting up an elaborate neighborhood farce to provide cover for his surveillance operation, and fretting over a car that follows his for a mere three blocks.
It took some finagling, but Fring seemed to pull off his big scheme. He arranged for the death of the only young man who would spill his scheme, and his enemy is presumed dead. But he can’t rest easy. The audience knows his fears are justified. But to his crew, it feels like chasing ghosts. Even the meticulous Gus isn’t able to buy himself any peace, with an equally cunning, if less subtle foe still potentially on the board.
Jimmy’s consequences aren’t quite so dire (at least not that he realizes). His interactions with Lalo result in a far more mundane consequence -- nobody at the courthouse wants anything to do with him. The security guard makes him run his belt and shoes through the scanner. His once-friendly clerk gives him the cold shoulder. The prosecutor he traded horses and snacks with thinks he’s gone too far. Whatever temporary advantages dealing with Lalo provided, they’ve left him ostracized by an ecosystem that he used to flit through with a hummingbird’s effortless grace.
Frankly, it’s a touch unbelievable. Maybe everyone in that courthouse draws a line between representing the occasional lowlife and pushing the limits to do so versus advocating for a killer and drug lord, but it’s awfully quick and seemingly coordinated. And yet, I don’t mind the convenience because it succinctly conveys the bridges Saul burns as he sidles up to the cartel.
He’s building new ones though. Doing business with Lalo didn’t just net him a duffle bag full of cash to fund his and Kim’s escapades. It gave him a reputation with, shall we say, a certain type of person who both admires Lalo Salamanca and might have the type of legal troubles that require a man of the...caliber to help a drug lord skip out on a murder rap.
It’s amusing to see Jimmy once again managing clients over the protests of his nail salon-owning landlord. Watching Bob Odenkirk ply his comedy chops once more, shuffling potential clients with his glad-handing, slick ways is a hoot as always. But at the same time, we can see the life of Saul Goodman starting to take shape, and the life of Jimmy McGill steadily slipping away.
It’s a life that includes running scams in his spare time. The most high-octane part of the episode comes as soon as the intro wraps up, as Kim and Jimmy complete the next step of their scheme to convince Clifford Main that Howard Hamlin is unreliable.
The ploy to steal Howard’s car and make it seem like he’s erratic and consorting with sex workers, conveniently within the eyeline of Clifford, is a thrill. The sheer absurdity of seeing Jimmy in his Howard-esque getup for the first time since the first season delights. The way Kim’s lunch with Clifford and Jimmy’s grand theft auto slows coalesce until the point of their seemingly disparate actions emerges is expertly crafted. And the mere involvement of Wendy, a familiar face from Breaking Bad, as their accomplice, makes the bit that much more of a sop to the fans.
The peak, though, comes when it always does -- when things start to go awry. Jimmy’s effort to return Howard’s car runs into a snag. Some inconsiderate jerk removed the traffic cone Jimmy left to save the spot and parked there. Watching Saul improvise -- heaving a parking sign out of the ground and moving it to make his questionable alternate car placement plausible -- adds joy and extra competence to the clockwork scheme. And the comic timing of the sign falling down mere seconds after Howard pulls out is perfect and uproarious.
But there’s a moment of pause there too. Each of the plays we’ve seen so far have skirted on the edge of discovery and disaster. Jimmy had to strip to his skivvies to avoid detection in the premiere. Huell had to rush the locksmith before a devoted valet went back for the keys. Saul had to scramble like mad to pull the car “borrowing” off without detection here.
Our protagonist and his allies are getting lucky. More to the point, they’re pushing their luck, with riskier and riskier plays that come closer and closer to blowing up in their faces. Better Call Saul likes to zig when we expect it to zag, but more in more, it seems like they’re skirting catastrophe, moments if not seconds away from everything blowing up in their faces.
Maybe that's why Kim feels uneasy about all this. She’s thinks she’s doing the right thing, as the diversionary lunch with Clifford turns into a genuine funding possibility for her pro bono efforts. But as Jimmy suggests, there’s a disbelief that, as Jesse Pinkman might put, they keep getting away with it. When you’re on a run of good luck, the sense that it could run out, that there’s some karmic comeuppance or at least reversion to the mean awaiting, puts a psychic weight on you.
That weight helps prompt Kim to spy the men following her (with an assist from Wendy, naturally). It gives her the gumption to walk up to them and call them on it. And it gives her the sterner stuff to earn a visit from none other than Mike Ehrmantraut for catching on.
Let’s be real, after five seasons, it’s a thrill to see two of the show’s major characters sharing a scene for the first time. The two could just talk about the weather, and it would still have the electricity Kim and Mike sitting across from one another after orbiting each other for so long. It doesn’t hurt that Kim’s sharp enough to deduce that Mike was the man with Saul in the desert, or that Mike intuits the steel behind Kim’s eyes that makes her steady and strong enough to deal with his frankness about why she’s being followed. That scene too is a bit of a sop to the fans, but a welcome one.
And it serves a purpose. Mike effectively tells Kim that they are not out of the woods, that Lalo Salamanca might still be on the loose, that he might be coming to them for answers, and that if he does, it might put them on the radar of a rival drug lord. Whether it’s Mike’s men or Lalo’s pursuit or the authorities, she’s now caught in the web of greater, potentially deadly forces.
It shakes her, as it would anyone. She can handle it, even if it leaves her uneasy about what might be around the next corner. But she doesn’t think Jimmy can. Especially when he’s reveling in what the association with Lalo netted him, she can’t burst his bubble, frighten him with the possibility of a side effect from a past decision coming back in a bad way.
He will though. Lalo is the Sword of Damocles hanging over this season. Gus isn’t wrong to be paranoid. Kim isn’t wrong to be frightened. Jimmy might be vulnerable in his blissful ignorance. Sometime, someplace, Lalo will emerge from his desert hideaways and strike, even if his path and target remain obscured.
But the choices these people made led them here. They may not have intended this outcome, but no one is here by accident. The choice to orchestrate a hit on your counterpart, the choice to stop representing run-of-the-mill defendants and help out a true bad guy, the choice not to tell your spouse about the danger that might be coming for them, have all had consequences. And while this moment is calm, the rules of Better Call Saul dictate that, sooner or later, the chickens will come home to roost.
This week's scene of Christina Ricci pushing Juliette Lewis away to snort the latter's coke is worth the price of greenlighting this show alone.
Pretty bad, more like a bad comedy. And those girls were just two bitches with daddy issues who think they're making a point and giving what? moral lessons?. The poor bastard said 'No' a few times, and I'm not justifying him because he was stupid but those girl kept pushing, come on, everyone has a limit.
The paradigm of material being cut from a book to fit into the run time of a movie doesn't really apply here because next to nothing from it happens in the film. It bares little resemblance to the book at all and is completely shallow for it. Conservatively I'd put it at 10% of the book translated to the screen in a recognisable form.
It should be "Inspired by" rather than "Based on" however I didn't find it that inspired at all. It's unbelievable to me that Cline himself handled the screenplay, at least in part. People that love the film will be thoroughly disappointed by the book, especially the PG-13 crowd the film brought in.
The Oasis itself was done an utter disservice by portraying it as basically just a game, it was so much more than that.
Disappointing.
Wasn't expecting this show to pull off a satisfying ending in the space of an episode but it did it.
Loved the reveal of that final loop and how they both realised what they needed to do. Also glad that they didn't take this in a romantic direction/conclusion. Yes the slept together once but it was just sex.
The latter section of the episode, with Alan and Nadia both resisting the help of the other. It reminds me of those intense friendships where there might be times when one pushes the other away. But they persist coz even though there is a bump now, you both know you're better with the other person in your life. If anything that's the message we should take away from this. If someone truly gives a shit, let them in. Coz it's rarer than you think...
Astonishes me time and time again how much of a madhouse the USA is.
[8.8/10] Better Call Saul has never been closer to Breaking Bad. That’s not just because the episode opens with this show’s first glimpse of Jimmy as the Saul Goodman we met on the prior show, in the midst of his fleeing from justice. It’s just because Gus Fring seems to nail down the plans for the facility that will one day be Walter White’s laboratory. It’s not just because Jimmy visits The Dog House, the fast food restaurant and hangout where Jesse Pinkman sold meth.
It’s because this is an episode about people who are outstanding at what they do, who have near unrivaled skills, and what direction that takes them in. That was the larger story of Breaking Bad, a story about a man who had an undeniable talent, and who could not set it aside when the recognition and lucre came with a side of human misery, and who didn’t know when to walk away until it was too late. It’s a show that lived on the conflicted thrills of watching someone so skilled ply their craft, and earned its emotional resonance from both the uncertainty and foreboding sense of where it would lead him.
“Quite a Ride” positions Jimmy in the same way, as someone who has a gift for persuasion, the ability to make an anthill sound like Mount Everest, and a lack of scruples that mean he doesn't mind skirting the law if it suits him. The difference is that Walt was running from a life he resented, whereas Jimmy seems to be running from his own grief.
There’s a version of Jimmy that could maybe have been happy, at least temporarily, working at the mobile phone store in a semi-normal way. Sure, his efforts to convince a passing customer that he can evade the taxman by buying these phones that are allegedly selling like hotcakes isn’t exactly on the up-and-up, but it’s a pretty straight job by Jimmy’s standards.
But it’s not enough, at least not when he has a moment of quiet, a moment to let his grief catch up with him. Sitting on the couch, watching Dr. Zhivago, Jimmy starts to tear up, as the pain of the events with his brother seem to flood back in a way he’s been able to keep at bay. So Jimmy turns to his drug of choice, his favorite distraction, and the thing that makes him feel better than anything else -- a nice, lucrative hoodwink.
He buys a heap of burner phones from his own store, and ventures to The Dog House to unload them to whatever criminal element is around to purchase them, in another one of the show’s sterling montages. There’s a sense in these scenes that Jimmy is both at the top of his game, but also wants to be punished for it. He doesn't know when to leave well enough alone, and seems to be pulled between the part of himself that wants to see exactly how far his talents will take him, and the part that wants to push him into something so bad that it’ll be the wake up call that snaps him out of this.
That wake up call comes. It doesn't happen when Jimmy wanders into a crowd of bikers who are enough to scare away the rest of the riff raff. It happens when the three young hoods who turned him down earlier in the night rough him up and take his spoils from the evening. He returns home, worse for wear, and after a sweet scene of Kim tending to his wounds, he agrees to go to the shrink she recommended.
He seems to realize that this isn’t healthy, and enough is enough. Just the image of Kim standing across from him, a symbol of his conscience and the better life he can have, is enough to spur him to be better and not let another night like this happen again.
Kim, however, is running as well. Instead of grief, she’s running from guilt, and instead of devolving further into a life of questionable morality, she’s hurtling herself headlong into an effort to regain her ethical moorings. That means working as a public defender in her spare time, going toe-to-toe with the same local prosecutor that Jimmy himself used to joust with. But unlike Jimmy, Kim isn’t just using subterfuge and bombast to get criminals off. She’s using prosecutorial screw-ups to hold the other side accountable, telling the young man she works out a deal for to get his life right or she won’t be there to bail him out, and goes above and beyond to help a young woman too scared to show up to court do what she needs to do.
This is all wildly successful, because Kim is damn good at what she does. She knows how to put the prosecution through their paces; she knows how to read a young screw-up the riot act in the hopes that he won’t be back here, and she knows how to be sympathetic but forceful with her clients who need both a helping hand and a little push.
The problem is that it means Kim is shirking her responsibilities elsewhere, specifically with Mesa Verde. She blows off a call from Paige, her contact at the bank, so that she can see things through with her pro bono client. It’s the negative image of Jimmy’s choices in this episode -- a decision that’s foolish and a little self-destructive, but noble, and one Kim promises never to make again. Both Kim and Jimmy are trying to regain their souls, but in very different ways, and for very different reasons, even if both use their god-given skills to great effect in the process.
Mike is employing his expert skills as well. The top of the line, undetectable meth lab that Gus is putting together is part of his grand plan, and so he needs people he can rely on. That’s why he brings in Mike to scout the architects for his place. For one thing, Mike’s shown -- through his escapades at Madrigal -- that he knows how to cover every detail to make sure that their illicit dealings aren’t found out or shut down -- something the show again conveys with a great visual sequence involving point of view shots from under a hood and communicating the passage of time through quick cut changes in sound and lighting in the back of a rocky van.
But he also knows people, like we saw last week, and he can tell when someone is blowing smoke at him and when someone’s being straight. That’s why Gus trusts him, and why Mike sends the boastful guy who claims he can build the lab in six months packing. And it’s why when Werner Ziegler, the nauseous German architect who tells his would-be employer straight up that the job is not impossible, but that it will be difficult, time-consuming, and expensive. Mike and Gus are birds of a feather, they’re frank, thorough, and careful, and it means when taking on a project of this size, they want people who’ll treat it the same way.
We know, though, that no matter how cautious Mike and Gus are, how close they come to bringing this long-brewing plan to fruition, that it all ends in ruin. No matter how well you plan, how good you are at what you do, there are unpredictable elements that can disrupt everything. For Gus Fring, that unpredictable element is Walter White, but for Jimmy McGill, it’s Howard Hamlin.
After his incident with the burners and the muggers, Jimmy seems on the straight and narrow again. But then, during a trip to the courthouse to check in as part of his suspension, he runs into Howard in the bathroom, who looks worse for wear. This typically ever-composed individual is out of sorts, looking disheveled, complaining about insomnia, and stressing over a case that he admits isn’t particularly significant. It’s clear -- to both Jimmy and the audience -- that Chuck’s death has gotten to Howard, that’s Kim’s speech landed, that the very thought is torturing him. It’s enough for Jimmy to offer some kindness, recommending the same shrink that Kim passed on to him.
It’s then that the worm turns. Howard tells Jimmy that he’s already seeing a therapist twice a week. It’s startling admission to Jimmy, one that changes his path yet again. Howard has all the advantages Jimmy doesn't -- his wealth, his position, and his father’s name. He has lived as traditionally successful a life as someone like Jimmy could imagine, the kind of life Jimmy was once trying to emulate.
But Howard is haunted by the same grief Jimmy is, and he’s no better for all the more that he has. Howard’s visible unmooring in the wake of the same loss sends a message to Jimmy -- that following the right path, doing what’s expected of you, doing things the normal way, don’t get you where Jimmy wants to go, and don’t seem to make you better either. So when he speaks to the D.A. about his plans after reinstatement, he speaks of wanting to go bigger, go better. His refuge from grief is his refuge from everything -- to follow his talents to their apex until it either makes his dreams come true or leads to his end.
“Quite a Ride” suggests the former rather than the latter. We know the heights that Jimmy will hit: the Saul Goodman billboards and commercials running 24/7, the suitcase full of money, the cheesy but lucrative law office he maintains. But we also know his fall, his paranoid, button-down life as Cinnabon Gene, that requires him to be demure and inconspicuous, the greatest punishment there is for someone like Jimmy.
And maybe “Quite a Ride” suggests and end even beyond there. After Jimmy is laid out by the thugs who rob him, he lays on the ground in pain as the camera pulls back skyward. It’s the same shot Breaking Bad used in Walt’s final moments. It’s a visual echo and a portent, one that seems to preview what a myopic quest to make use of your own greatest talent, regardless of the ethical or practical consequences for you and the people you love, gets you. We know where that sort of quest ended for Walt, and as he veers ever nearer to going full Saul, Jimmy gets a taste of that too.
Better Call Saul has never been closer to Breaking Bad, and that’s bad news for Jimmy McGill.
[7.6/10] Chuck McGill once described his brother with a law degree as the equivalent of “a chimp with a machine gun.” That conjures a particular image -- one of recklessness and harm via a device far beyond the comprehension or abilities of its user. As Lalo (Tony Dalton) showed us in the tunnel, you don’t need to have perfect aim or a good line of sight to do some serious damage with that sort of tool at your disposal.
But I never bought that line of thinking. Jimmy (Bob Odenkirk) was born to color outside the lines, but the early seasons of Better Call Saul convinced me that with the right guidance, the right supervision, the right singing cricket on his shoulder, he could have used his powers for good. The early stages of the Sandpiper case seemed to suggest that, where his con artist ways could be used to benefit a defrauded group of senior citizens (and, admittedly, feather his own nest in the process). Given the bad blood between the McGill brothers, that wasn’t meant to be, and we’ve seen Jimmy’s soul gradually darken over the course of five seasons instead.
Maybe it’s still possible, though, in the guise of a professional pantsuit and a curled ponytail in lieu of a loud blazer and billboard-ready wink. Those same early seasons slowly came to suggest that Kim was an equally formidable con artist as Jimmy, just one whose conscience held her back from the worst of his indulgence.
What if she had the right target though -- a smug man who’s “in love with himself” and treated Kim (Rhea Seehorn) poorly on multiple occasions? What if she had a just cause -- enough money to fund a pro bono practice that could give the indigent the type of representation that only the wealthy can typically afford? And what if there would be no harm to forcing the result -- a Sandpiper settlement that may come in a few dollars shorter than expected, but would give the octogenarian beneficiaries their money now, when they can still use it.
For seasons now, fans and critics like me have posited Kim as the last thing keeping Jimmy McGill from becoming Saul Goodman. What if we were wrong? What if the tie to Kim that seemed to be the last thing holding Jimmy back from descending irrevocably into his “Better Call Saul” guise was, in actuality, the tie that saw Jimmy inadvertently dragging Kim down into that darkness with him.
Jimmy himself certainly seems to think so. Maybe it’s the lingering PTSD or the warning from Mike (Jonathan Banks) in “Bagman” that Jimmy had put Kim into the line of fire. Whatever the cause, Jimmy seems ready to extricate himself from this relationship, not because he loves Kim any less, but because he’s realizing that he might be bad for her. The catch is that, until the end, Jimmy understandably believes the threat is coming from the cartel, and his other probable crossed lines, that might put this poor woman whose only sin is her loyalty to him in more danger.
And why wouldn’t he? The cartel half of “Something Unforgivable” posits the ongoing web of bad blood and conflicting business interests among Lalo, Gus (Giancarlo Esposito), Juan Bolsa (Javier Grajeda), and Don Eladio (Steven Bauer) as something volatile and quick to turn deadly. The confrontation between Lalo and those sent to assassinate him takes out old men, it takes out women, it takes out foot soldiers so young they’re practically kids. It’s reasonable to be afraid of what could become collateral damage next.
Granted, it seems like nothing in this world could stop Lalo from coming at his enemies and evading any attempts to neutralize him. The character has been a more than welcome presence in season 5, and Dalton has brought a mix of mirth and menace to the role not seen since Mark Hamill’s take on the Joker. But his escape from a host of assassins who are, on Fring’s account, the best at what they do, starts to make him feel superhuman in the way his ceiling-leap last season did.
Lalo has proven himself to be exceedingly smart, prepared, and aware of what kind of business he’s in. So it’s not crazy to think he could be ready for something like this. Still, his single-handedly taking out a squad of killers with machine guns despite starting with little more than a hot pan full of oil starts to strain credulity and weakens the one bit of real fireworks the episode has to offer.
That said, the danger puts a target on Nacho’s (Michael Mando) back. He, more than anyone, has been caught in that web for a long time now. Mike once again wants to give him a reprieve, get him out of there before something bad happens. But as Gus surveys the burned wreckage of one his restaurants, his tone and tenor say this is a man who’s invested too much in Nacho Varga to spare him at a time when he may be rising up in Don Eladio’s empire and the pecking order of Gus’s rivals.
That leaves Nacho having to play both sides whilst higher up the food chain. When Lalo coaches him up for winning the top spot in the Salamanca crew from Don Eladio, saying that the business needs someone “steady” right now, you can see him mulling the possibilities. At the same time, you can see how he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn't. Failing to earn that spot may leave him much more expendable to both the Salamancas and to Gus. But gaining it just raises the stakes in his double-agent routine, making his tenuous position between two murderous crime bosses that much more precarious.
The attack on Lalo’s compound, which Nacho conspicuously managed to escape from, puts him in Lalo’s crosshairs. With all the dramatics of the last two episodes, “Something Unforgivable” is more of a denouement for this season, and a setup for the next one, that a heart-pumping hour of television in and of itself. As setup though, Lalo’s “I thought he was dead” revenge quest is an exciting one, that puts literally every other major character on the show in danger.
Lalo’s smart enough to suspect that Nacho had something to do with the attempt on his life. His disdain for Gus is well-documented. He has unfinished business with Mike after sparks flew in last season’s finale. He already thinks Saul might have sold him out given last week’s thrilling stand off. And Kim is officially on the cartel’s radar, after not only identifying herself to Lalo in “Bagman”, but telling him off to his face in the next episode. As Better Call Saul puts its pieces into place for its final season, it’s left each of its major players in potentially mortal danger.
The only character of significance who’s managed to avoid that sword of Damocles is Howard Hamlin. But he may be staring down the barrel of the only thing scarier than an enraged Lalo -- Kim Wexler with a righteous cause and a lack of scruples.
All this time we thought we were watching the slow descent of Jimmy McGill into Saul Goodman, worried that he would drag Kim down with him. Maybe he has, only not in the way any of us were expecting. Just as the firefight on the Salamanca compound seems to be setting up a series of confrontations in season 6 more than it’s closing out the cartel story in season 5, Kim’s choices here seem to be setting up the final, major job that she and her newly-christened husband will pull in the show’s final batch of episodes.
Her plan to trick or coax or outright fabricate Howard committing some unforgivable crime would bring the show full circle. It would set Kim and Jimmy against the show’s fake out villain from its first season. It would give Kim revenge on the man who took his beefs against Jimmy and generally frustrations out on her despite all her good, hard work. It would wrap up the Sandpiper case that drove so much of Jimmy’s actions in the early going. Better Call Saul is rarely so neat or tidy, but the climax of the schemes the husband and wife adorably toss around under the covers would create a bookend for the show as it makes its final lap.
But it would also darken Kim’s soul to an extent few expected or would wish. That includes Jimmy, who seems aghast that his partner is serious about this. We’ve seen Kim cross lines before, from pulling simple cons for fun, to trying more complex schemes to help her practice, to her complicity in Jimmy’s efforts against his brother, to her transgressions on behalf of Mr. Acker in the shadow of Mesa Verde’s call center.
It’s easy to see those as the road to hell paved with good intentions, one greased, however intentionally or inadvertently, by Saul’s bad influence on her. Kim herself, however, rejects this hypothesis when it’s offered by Howard. She insists, as she should, that she’s someone who makes her own choices. We’re all a product of the people we interact with, the people we spend our lives with. But Kim has felt a fire and a thrill from her opportunities to color outside the lines just as Jimmy has, and maybe the only mistake was in thinking that she would hold onto her conscience in the shadow of his worst transgressions rather than finding her own path in the darkness.
Perhaps, instead, she will become what Jimmy seemed poised to become, but through familial grievances and his perceived universe of slights, was doomed to fall short of -- a champion who does bad things for good ends. Season 5 of Better Call Saul is where Saul Goodman, the amoral advocate we would come to know on Breaking Bad, was born and started to flourish. But it may also be the birth of a new Kim Wexler, a fallen angel ready to slay the wicked in the name of the good, as the devil on her shoulder starts to wonder, and regret, what he’s done.
Between this and Cherry, it’s becoming more and more clear that the MCU’s best director is called Kevin Feige.
Netflix clearly spent a lot of money on this, you can feel the price of your subscription going up with every new set piece that’s introduced, but the end results are still unforgivingly bland and generic nonetheless.
It’s their attempt to compete with Bond, Bourne or Mission Impossible, but if anything this feels like a poser imitation of those superior blockbuster franchises. The plot is in fact literally ripping off both Skyfall and The Bourne Identity at the same time, but forgets about any of their depth in regards to story and character.
The Russos are clearly trying to recapture that same tone and spark from their Captain America: The Winter Soldier days, but they end up making something that’s more akin to the quality of Red Notice.
In terms of directing they kinda got outdone by their own second unit director with his Netflix action flick, as I’d argue that Extraction is a marginally better film than this.
The action’s poorly done and cheaply put together, lots of annoying editing choices (heavy overuse of drone shots, quick cuts and can the Russos pick a normal font for once?), corny dialogue, distractingly bad CGI, boring visuals and music (why is everything so low contrast, foggy and muddy?); not a lot to recommend about this one.
The acting’s fine, Evans is having a blast, but I have absolutely no idea why an extremely picky actor like Ryan Gosling chose this script in the first place. It seems like a paycheck movie for someone of his caliber. Just watch The Nice Guys instead of this if you want to see Goose in an action comedy, we don’t need these 200 million dollar direct to streaming action films.
4/10
Not a fan of the boring Russian subplot.
The movie is way too unrealistic. No one plugs in a USB cable on the first try.
Why does Hannah’s “ghost” (or whatever she is) have long hair. Wasn’t it short when she died?
ID4 blew the door wide open to the sci-fi action genre. It was the birth of the blockbuster. Is it perfect ? That depends on how you view it. You can find flaws in any movie. The question is how much you let it affect you. Are there logic issues ? Yes. Does it matter ? No, because it is entertaining as hell and the story is much better then dozens of movies that came after this. Despite the fact it is now over 20 years old it has aged well. My opinion has always been that life photography SFX ages better than CGI.
In any case it is way better than the re-quel
You do not believe the story or the characters. Totally flat film that bores from start to finish
