By Ethan Ames

Season 6, Episode 11 "Breaking Bad"

Warning: Contains spoilers for Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad

In addition to being a prequel and companion piece of Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul is, at heart, the story of a man failing to change for the better. Jimmy McGill is an addict; his drug of choice is Saul Goodman. And Saul Goodman is the walking embodiment of Jimmy McGill’s fundamental inability to be honest with himself about the pain he carries.

At this juncture, we know how the stories of both Saul and Breaking Bad end, the former having concluded, in a sense, by the end of “Fun and Games.” Now, we’re effectively in the epilogue, but for this Frankenstein-like hybrid of Saul and Gene (there's very little Jimmy McGill left in there, if at all) there are yet still more choices to make, more crossroads to deliberate over. And from what we've seen throughout the entire run of the show, Bad Choice Road is a well-trodden one for Saul.

"Breaking Bad," the series' third-to-last episode, is one that's ultimately concerned with choices and consequences. At last, this is the episode where the universes of Bad and Saul directly collide. The result is dazzling and illuminating, lending an even deeper layer of subtext to the rich tapestry of this shared universe.

This episode jumps between two different timelines: the era of Breaking Bad — circa season two's "Better Call Saul," where we first met Saul Goodman — and the Gene-in-Omaha timeline. The reason for the juxtaposition of these two timelines is intentional: we're watching the same man make the same mistakes, in the past and the present.

We get to revisit, this time through Saul's perspective, the origins of his partnership with Walter White and Jesse Pinkman. But, in the present (November 2010, really), we also see Gene making a choice of his own: to effectively break bad, and all but completely don his Saul Goodman skin once again.

Early in the episode, during a phone call hinted at earlier in the series, Gene learns from Francesca that nearly all of his assets, hidden in "shells within shells," have been seized by the government. Although Gene brought a substantial package with him to Omaha, it's crushing news nonetheless. 

But Francesca also tells him that Kim called her and asked if Saul was alive, after "everything went down" (meaning, when Walter White blew up his life and sent him on the run). The dormant Jimmy McGill, who's been buried inside his skin for all of these years, visibly peeks his head up once again.

As he gets in his car to return to his colorless life in Omaha, he reaches a crossroads (the same one that shows up in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment during the series intro). There, the same impulsive Jimmy McGill we've known for so long takes over. Being the man who has historically failed to make the right call countless times before, he instead returns to the pay phone to call Palm Coast Sprinkler in Titusville, Florida, where he asks to speak with Kim (we can assume he's done prior research as to her whereabouts).

We don't hear the contents of this phone call, other than seeing him gesticulating angrily. Whomever he spoke with, and whatever was said, it brings up a wellspring of pain that he's kept buried for years (I assume it's Kim, but TBD). He smashes the phone onto the receiver and breaks the phone booth's glass paneling in a fit of rage. I expect we'll know soon enough what was said on this call, perhaps not unlike the Nacho/Mike conversation we saw from different perspectives earlier in the season. But this is an enormous catalyst, the trigger that prompts a reckless relapse into Saul Goodman.

On the surface, he implements an elaborate identity-theft ruse on rich bar patrons. in order to make up for his forfeited assets. But it’s also a coping mechanism for him. This time, he taps into his Saul persona with a degree of cynicism, callousness and almost Heisenberg-ian menace that we haven’t seen prior. The consequences of this choice remain to be seen, but in light of seeing these two timelines in tandem, it doesn't bode well for him.

Gene re-enlists Jeff the cabbie and his friend, Buddy — to both of whom he firmly insisted they were "done" — in his scheme, and the plan goes swimmingly, until Gene and his small-time partners hit a roadblock.

One of their marks (Kevin Sussman), a financial adviser who's clearly a kind person, tells Gene that he has cancer. Gene appears to momentarily soften at this, but he ultimately decides to go through with the con regardless, likely against many viewers' hopes, or even expectations.

This entire interaction is written with such complexity and nuance; in a sense, Gene, or Saul, or whoever the hell is underneath the multiple facades this man wears, likely buries whatever moral flare-up we witness in his face, in order to continue moving forward with the con. But Cancer Mark (for lack of a better name) makes a comment about how "there's a special place in Hell" for the likes of Bernie Madoff and other financial criminals. It's possible that Gene pegs this mindset as the same type of scorn and judgment bestowed upon him by Chuck, Howard, and the rest of the legal elite. I also take this to mean that, if Cancer Mark catches wise to the grift, he won't have an ounce of sympathy for the conman trying to rob him.

The scene with Walt (Bryan Cranston), Jesse (Aaron Paul) and Saul in the RV is thoroughly enjoyable. For lack of a better way to put it, the magic is still there. But Walt and Jesse's appearances are more than fan service; these characters are revived to emphasize a point. Whereas Mike saw in Walt an "amateur," to be given a wide berth, Saul saw a financial opportunity. The purpose of showcasing these timelines in the same episode is to illustrate the symmetry of his decisions. As are his identity-theft grifts he’s now enacting as Gene, his choice to partner up with Walt and Jesse was a compulsive one. Saul is first and foremost motivated by his opportunism, rather than any moral framework or sound judgment.

Jimmy/Saul/Gene — all names which reflect distinct choices and eras of his life — has taken so many fateful wrong turns in his life, but few have had as many monumental consequences as his decision to partner with Walter White. But what the series hasn’t thoroughly explored - up until now - is exactly why Saul made the choice to do so. To Mike, who advises him to steer clear of the chemistry teacher in a standout flashback scene, Saul says: “You see an amateur; I see 170 pounds of clay ready to be molded.” 

It’s as if Saul, in a way, created a monster that ultimately wreaked havoc in his world. Or, at least, Saul willingly opened his door and invited the monster in. Good advice, be damned; Saul simply had a feeling about this guy, and he had to go his own way. Funny the way things turn out.

Throughout his entire adult life, when advised to turn right, Jimmy went left. And the hard left turn he took to partner with Walt and Jesse led him to his current predicament. And yet, still (still!), he can’t help but relapse into the persona, because it’s all that he has.

As both his brother and Howard knew all too well, he can’t help himself. Saul Goodman is a player, and he’s addicted to the game. In last week’s episode, he took a hit of the drug, however two-bit the scam may have been. Now, he’s on a total bender, with the consequences looming just around the corner.

Even without bloodshed, this episode is one of the darkest entries to date. I’m becoming less hopeful for any redemption for Jimmy/Saul/Gene. He’s a broken man, and he wields his brokenness like a “chimp with a machine gun.” All that's left to happen now is for him to lay down his proverbial weapon, in one way or another.

Odds and Ends

• Francesca hanging up on Gene mid-goodbye is the perfect send-off to her character. 

• Saul's cries of "Yo soy abogado!" while tied up on the floor of the RV is a callback to season five's "Bagman." Being hog-tied with a bag over his head is certainly enough to mentally transport Saul right back into Lalo’s crosshairs. Schnauz and the rest of the writing team have a real knack for taking a traumatic occurrence and inserting it in such a way that makes it laugh-out-loud funny.
• The use of color versus black and white, to convey the past and the present, respectively, is such a simple yet elegant narrative device. I can't think of another series that can move so effectively between different timelines without imposing any clunky exposition.
• “A guy with that mustache probably doesn’t make a lot of good choices.” Sounds about right.