It started as a joke. Literally. Back in the Breaking Bad writers' room, whenever they hit a narrative wall, someone would pipe up with, "Better call Saul!" It was a gag about a spinoff that nobody thought would actually happen. Then it did. And against every possible odd, Peter Gould and Vince Gilligan created a show that didn't just stand in the shadow of Walter White—it arguably eclipsed him.
The Problem With Being a Prequel
Prequels are usually a trap. We already know how Jimmy McGill ends up. We know he becomes Saul Goodman, the "criminal" lawyer with the inflatable Statue of Liberty on his roof. We know he eventually flees Albuquerque to manage a Cinnabon in Omaha under the name Gene Takavic. Because the destination is fixed, most prequels feel like they're just checking boxes.
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Better Call Saul flipped the script.
Instead of asking what happens, the show obsessed over how it happens. It turns out that watching a decent man slowly lose his soul is way more heartbreaking than watching a chemistry teacher become a drug lord. Jimmy McGill actually tried. He really, really tried to be good. He wanted his brother Chuck’s approval so badly it practically radiated off the screen.
Jimmy and Chuck: The Heart of the Tragedy
The relationship between Jimmy and Chuck McGill is the best-written sibling rivalry in television history. Period. Michael McKean played Chuck with such a prickly, condescending brilliance that you almost forgot he was technically right. He told Jimmy, "You're not a real lawyer," and while it felt like a dagger to the heart, Chuck saw something Jimmy couldn't: the "Slippin' Jimmy" persona was always bubbling just under the surface.
Chuck’s "condition"—his supposed hypersensitivity to electricity—was a physical manifestation of his inability to cope with a world where his screw-up brother could be his equal. It wasn't just a plot device. It was a character study in resentment.
When Jimmy finally makes the "Better Call Saul" TV persona his reality, it isn't a victory. It’s a tragedy. It’s the moment he realizes that being "good" didn't get him the love he wanted, so he might as well be the best at being bad.
Why the Pacing Works (Even When It's Slow)
People complained about the first two seasons being "slow." They weren't slow; they were deliberate.
The show spent entire episodes focusing on Mike Ehrmantraut deconstructing a car or Jimmy painstakingly putting together shredded documents. This isn't filler. It’s craftsmanship. The show rewards patience. It treats the audience like they have an attention span, which is a rare thing in the streaming era.
Think about the lab. We spent seasons watching the construction of Gus Fring’s underground meth lab. In Breaking Bad, it was just a setting. In Better Call Saul, it’s a monument to ego, labor, and the slow-motion collision of the cartel world and the legal world.
The Kim Wexler Factor
If Jimmy is the heart, Kim Wexler is the soul. Rhea Seehorn delivered a performance that deserved every Emmy it was snubbed for. Kim wasn't just a "love interest." She was a partner in crime—sometimes literally.
What makes Kim fascinating is her agency. She wasn't dragged into Jimmy’s world; she chose it. She loved the "scam." The tension of the final seasons didn't come from wondering if Jimmy would survive (we knew he did), but from wondering what happened to Kim. Her absence in Breaking Bad was the biggest mystery of the show.
The Cartel Side of the Street
While Jimmy was fighting for office space in the back of a nail salon, the show was secretly building a high-stakes thriller on the other side of town. Tony Dalton’s Lalo Salamanca changed everything.
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Lalo is perhaps the most terrifying villain in the Gilligan-verse because he’s charming. He’s the guy you want to have a beer with right before he kills you. The way the "lawyer" plotline and the "cartel" plotline finally slammed together in Season 6 was a masterclass in tension. When Lalo walks into Jimmy and Kim’s apartment while Howard Hamlin is there... that’s the moment the show stopped being a dramedy and became a nightmare.
Visual Storytelling and the Omaha Sequences
Let's talk about the black-and-white stuff. Starting every season with a glimpse of "Gene" was a stroke of genius. It gave the show a sense of impending doom. By the time we got to the final episodes, which stayed in that monochrome world, the transition felt earned.
The cinematography in this show is miles ahead of almost anything else on cable. They used "the rule of thirds" and negative space to show how isolated Jimmy felt. Sometimes the camera would stay perfectly still for three minutes just to let the atmosphere sink in. It’s beautiful, it’s cinematic, and it’s why the show feels so "prestige."
What We Get Wrong About the Ending
A lot of people wanted Jimmy to get away with it. They wanted him to pull one last "Saul Goodman" hustle. And he almost did. He talked the feds down to seven years in a "cushy" prison.
But then he didn't.
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He confessed. He took the 86 years. Why? Because it was the only way to win back Kim’s respect. It was the only way to finally kill "Saul" and become Jimmy again. It’s a bittersweet, perfect ending that makes Walter White’s "blaze of glory" look almost simplistic by comparison.
How to Appreciate the Show Today
If you’re revisiting the series or watching for the first time, don't rush it. This isn't a show meant for background noise while you scroll on your phone.
- Watch the background. The writers love "Easter eggs" that link back to Breaking Bad, but they also use background props to tell you how a character is feeling.
- Pay attention to the montage. The "Something Stupid" montage or the "Street Life" sequence are some of the best uses of music in TV history.
- Follow the law. Most of the legal jargon in the show is actually accurate. The showrunners worked with real lawyers to make sure the "Sandpiper Crossing" case and the Mesa Verde filings made sense.
Better Call Saul TV isn't just a prequel. It’s a 63-episode argument that people can change—but usually, they just become more of who they already were. It’s a story about the consequences of small choices. It’s about a colorful suit hiding a very gray soul.
The best way to experience the legacy of the show is to look at the "Gene" sequences again. Notice how the color only returns to the screen through the reflection of Jimmy’s old commercials in his glasses. He’s a man trapped by his own myth. To truly understand the show, you have to look past the lawyer jokes and see the man who just wanted to be seen.
Next Steps for Fans:
Start your rewatch by paying close attention to the pilot episode's parallels with the series finale, specifically the use of cigarettes and lighting. Examine the "Sandpiper" case timeline to see how Jimmy's early legal wins actually sowed the seeds for his eventual downfall. Finally, explore the official Better Call Saul Insider Podcast for technical breakdowns of the cinematography used in the final season.