Skip to main content

Better Call Saul

 To me, one of the most gripping episodes of "Better Call Saul" is "Bagman"; as others have noticed, the writing feels like Shakespeare.


Lalo Salamanca--a kind of Iago, without a conscience--finds himself in need of bail money. Specifically, he needs seven million dollars. He knows he can get this money from a cartel he is linked with, but he can't leave his cell to travel to the desert of New Mexico. So he sends his lawyer; he knows his lawyer craves cash and power; also, he doesn't really care if the lawyer is murdered. Lalo enjoys drama; a death would be intriguing, at least. Worse things could be imagined.

To mix "play metaphors," our Macbeth, our lawyer, Saul Goodman, tells his wife he is going to fulfill Lalo's command. ("To think! I could be a FRIEND OF THE CARTEL!") Mrs. Goodman has concerns--but there's no stopping Saul.

Saul picks up the cash--two massive duffle bags--and he begins his long, long trek back toward Albuquerque. Of course, thieves fall out; a spy within the cartel has alerted a rival gang about the money in transit; the rival gang attempts to murder Saul. Saul's escape--with the aid of a mysterious "friend"--takes over the remainder of the episode.

The showrunner, Vince Gilligan, loves plans that go wrong. ("You're safe till Burnham Wood comes to...." "No man born of woman will claim your crown....") In the desert, we have the murderers, we have the broken car, we have a limited water supply, we have one lone antagonist who waits until the Third Act. Most enjoyably, we have the issue of sore arms. Saul doesn't want to carry his big bags, so he decides he will drag the bags. Immediately, one entangles itself with a cactus; a hole begins to grow; money flies off into the sands. Saul's friend--the smarter, tougher half of this pair--rolls his eyes, grabs a file folder, and wedges it between the hole and the rest of the cash. We learn about character here: Saul is scrappy but impetuous, and his friend is simply brilliant. (Another time Gilligan shows character through a small gesture: Jesse Pinkman, riding in a desert, tries to fill his lonely hours by smooshing his face against a car window, in novel ways. Jesse becomes like a child. Unforgettable writing and acting.)

I have just about one hour to go in "Better Call Saul"; this series has filled a month for Marc and for me. I agree with Joyce Carol Oates that the show can be slow and repetitive, but the acting is worthy of a chef's kiss. I agree with Mark Harris that Rhea Seehorn should win a Best Lead Emmy, and the Best Supporting Emmy should go to Seehorn's left hand. (Watch that hand! It is so expressive!) I'm just happy to have this show in my life.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...
2 comments
Read more

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...
Post a Comment
Read more