Did I mention the episodes are now in black and white? The first five seasons of Better Call Saul teased a future in which Bob Odenkirk’s titular character, now named Gene Takavic, works at a Cinnabon in Nebraska, hiding from the feds and the cartels and pretty much everyone who could tie him to his criminal past. Those flash-forward teasers were drained of color, and now that the new season has caught up to the Nebraska time frame, we’ve had three full episodes of magisterial B&W–none of the garish colors and flat sunlight of Albuquerque that Saul and Breaking Bad made famous.
The recent monochrome episodes have been dazzling to look at—Antonioni meets film noir—and beautifully paced and thrilling and funny too, but mostly they’ve been agonizingly sad. The dilemma in writing about Saul is how not to spoil a show most people will watch whenever they get around to it, but I’ll just say that you have a weekend until the finale, and a free trial on AMC+, and there is a reckoning coming on Monday night that I, for one, will not be saving for later. Kim Wexler took stock of her failings last week in a performance that should win every award, and Odenkirk’s Jimmy a.k.a. Saul a.k.a. Gene will surely be facing his past in some important way. (Episode 12 ended with a cliffhanger, courtesy of Carol Burnett.) Gilligan and Gould let Breaking Bad’s finale be noisy, triumphal, and anguished. It was a great end to a series—one of the best. Saul, which is a superior show, has more moral weight than Breaking Bad, a more thorough balancing of right and wrong, and a crushing sense of reality intruding on fantasy. I don’t know how it’s going to end, and frankly I don’t see a lot of predictions circling around. I think most of us feel as I do: Saul can end however it wants. We’ve been lucky to have this series, and I know how I’ll feel when it’s over.
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