Skip to main content

On Television

 An hour I love is "Chicanery," from "Better Call Saul."


People call this the high point of the series. Here's how I understand it. Chuck, a troubled man, needs an outlet for his own pain, so he antagonizes his brother, Jimmy. He ensnares Jimmy by getting him to admit (on tape) that he has bent the law. Jimmy's reasons for having strayed from the path of rectitude are defensible, but Chuck won't open his ears.

At the same time, Chuck's rage means that he is also bullying himself. Chuck has persuaded himself that he has an allergy to electricity ("AIDS seemed bizarre, too, when the stories first began to emerge"). Jimmy must show that Chuck is out of his mind--so that Chuck's case gets dismissed. But the process of course requires one brother to humiliate another brother.

Chuck is a monster--but he is also, obviously, dealing with intense suffering. In a flashback, we see him trying to woo his ex-wife. He can't just tell her the story of his new illness, so he invents an elaborate speech about having lost all of his electrical power; he will serve her fish that he has (whimsically) cooked up on a campfire. All seems to go well until the ex-wife's cell phone rings. Instead of digging into his own lunacy, Chuck picks up the phone and throws it across the room. In a haughty way, he says, "It's rude to take a call during dinner."

I can't take my eyes off Chuck. In the hour's final minutes, having lost his case, Chuck notes a glowing "Exit" sign in the corner of the courtroom. This is full of meaning. First, it suggests that Chuck cannot be trusted; if he really had an allergy, he would have detected the presence of the sign during Minute One, and he would have demanded a new set-up. Two, the sign is symbolic: Chuck needs an exit. He needs to leave his family situation--but he also needs to leave the planet. By the end of the season, he will be dead.

I'm always happy to discover a great character, and Chuck seems to be one of the best in recent TV history. I wish that the Gilligan/Seehorn show would happen this season.
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

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more