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6

[8.1/10] For the entirety of this season, Kim Wexler, and the audience, have been waiting for Jimmy McGill to genuinely deal with his brother’s death, to confront it in some way, rather than moving on as though nothing happened. From the season premiere, where he brushed off Howard’s tortured confession with a happy air, to last week’s raging out, we’ve seen Jimmy sublimate his feelings about Chuck and his brother’s death. We’ve seen him repress them, run from them, and act out because of them, but never really face them head on.

Those feelings are at the core of “Winner”, the finale of Better Call Saul’s fourth season. The latest scheme from Kim and Jimmy requires Jimmy to cry crocodile tears at Chuck’s grave on the anniversary of his death, to get earnestly involved in the scholarship grants made in Chuck’s name, to loudly but “anonymously” throw a party for the dedication of the Chuck McGill memorial law library and seem too broken up to enjoy it. It’s all a big show, to attract as many members of the local bar as possible, in the hopes that word will get back to the committee judging his appeal for reinstatement as a lawyer.

It is an effort to put on grief, wear it like a mask, for self-serving purposes. The knock on Jimmy, the thing that held him back in his first hearing, was a lack of remorse or concerning or mournfulness about his brother. So he and Kim send every signal imaginable to the legal community, in lugubrious tones, that Jimmy is a broken man still shaken up by his brother’s passing, only withholding mention of Chuck because the memory is too painful to bear.

As usual, it’s a good plan! It’s hard to know for sure whether the signs of Jimmy’s faux grief make it back to the review board, but they at least seem to be effective on his immediate prey. And Kim is there by his side, shooting down his more outlandish ideas, workshopping his speech to the committee, and helping her partner mislead people in the hopes of regaining something that was taken away from him.

But the key to it all working is Jimmy’s speech to the review board. He goes in with a plan to recite Chuck’s letter to him. Jimmy wants to let his brother’s eloquence and feeling carry the day so that he doesn't have to put on that mask of true feeling and seem insincere. But he departs from the script. He improvises. He offers what sounds like an honest assessment of his relationship with his brother, the reasons why he became a lawyer, the difficulty of gaining Chuck’s approval, the truths about Chuck’s demeanor and the hardships their sibling relationship faced at times.

The the impact of those words is heightened by the karaoke cold open that shows Jimmy as needling but caring, Chuck as condescending but proud, and the two of them as loving siblings. It clearly moves the review board. It causes Kim to wipe away a tear. And you’d have to be made of stone to sit in the audience and not feel something as Jimmy offers what sounds like a heartfelt and honest eulogy for his brother and their relationship.

But it’s a canard, a put-on, a lie. It is an echo of similar faux-sentimental assessments from Chuck, and once again, I almost believed it. Jimmy revels in having put one over on the review board. His cravenness about tugging their heartstrings astounds Kim, underlining her worst fears about the man she loves. After tearfully echoing the passage from his brother’s letter, about his pride in sharing the name McGill, Jimmy asks for a “doing business as” form to practice under a pseudonym instead. Saul Goodman, scruple-free lawyer to the seedy underbelly of Albuquerque, is born out of the ashes of his brother’s life and name.

There was no truth in Jimmy’s seemingly sincere pronouncements. There was no outpouring of grief or real feeling in that confessional moment, or if there was, it was anesthetized and calibrated to be used for dishonest purposes. For ten episodes, we’ve been waiting for Jimmy to acknowledge what his brother meant to him in some genuine way, and instead, he gives us, the review board, and most notably Kim, what turns out to be just another performance.

It is, in a strange way, a negative image of how Mike behaves in this episode. When he speaks to Gus about Werner’s disappearance, he seeks mercy on his friend’s behalf, trying to avoid a mortal response from his employer. He pleads caution, forgiveness, the possibility of correction. But when he speaks to Werner himself, he’s colder, angrier, more taciturn and practical in the way we’ve come to expect as the default for Mr. Ehrmantraut. He too has a divide between the face he presents in his profession and the one he presents to his erstwhile friend.

But at least “Winner” gives us some good cat-and-mousing in that effort. For all the heady material in Better Call Saul, it’s hard not to enjoy the petty thrills of detective work and chases gone wrong all the more. Seeing Mike pose as a concerned brother in law, and piece together where Werner’s likely to be is an absolute treat. And the way he manages to loses Lalo Salamanca -- with a gum in the ticket machine ploy -- is a lot of fun.

Lalo himself, though, really drags this portion of the episode down. He’s a little too cartoony of an antagonist on a heightened but still down-to-earth show. The fact that he crawls through the ceiling like he’s freaking Spider-Man was patently ridiculous. And his single-minded pursuit of Mike and ability to ferret details out just as well veered too far into the realm of contrivance. I appreciate the promise of greater friction to come between Gus and Mike’s operation and the Salamancas, but the bulk of Lalo’s business in this one was unnecessary, and kept Nacho, who’s been underserved in general this season, on the sidelines.

Still, it leads to a tragic, moving, heartfelt scene between Mike and Werner where what needs to be done is done. Between Werner’s naive requests to see his wife, Mike’s matter of fact resignation about what needs to happen, and Werner’s slow realization of the position he’s in all unspools slowly and painfully.

The upshot of it is simple though. Mike found a friend, and he has to kill him. There’s sadness in Mike’s eyes, evident beneath the anger that it came to this. There’s pain in Werner’s, and for yours truly, when Werner tells Mike that he thought his little escapade would result only in frustration but ultimately forgiveness and understanding from Mike, because they’re friends.

There’s not room for friends in this line of work, at least not under Gus Fring. Ultimately, it’s not up to Mike, and underneath the stars of New Mexico, at a distance, with a spark and a silhouette, we see him have to end the life of someone he’d rather let go, because it’s his job. Werner is the first man that Mike kills for Gus, but he won’t be the last. And it all starts with a man who made one mistake, that can’t be forgiven, because the powers that be would never allow it.

That’s what ties Mike’s portion of the episode to Jimmy’s. Jimmy delivers what is basically the Saul Goodman Manifesto to a young woman who was denied one of the Chuck McGill scholarships since she was caught shoplifting. He tells her that chances at respectability like that scholarship are false promises, dangled in front of lesser-thans to convince them they have a shot when they were judged harshly before they even stepped in the door. The system is stacked against you. The rules are to their benefit. So don’t abide by them. Make your success without them. Do what you have to do. Rub their nose in your success rather letting yourself be cowed by something unfair and biased against you. The world will try to define you by one mistake, but fight back and don’t let them win.

That’s a comforting worldview, one that lets the viewer off the hook to some degree. We want to like Jimmy. He’s affable. He’s fun. He’s good at what he does. It’s easy to buy in Jimmy’s own sublimated self-assessment -- that the white shoed system is unwilling to overlook less credentialed but hard-working individuals who’ve had missteps but overcome them, so he has to fight dirty. It’s tempting to buy into that narrative -- that the people with the power aren’t playing fair, so why should he? Why shouldn’t scratch, claw, fight, and cut corners along the way to getting what he deserves?

But the truth is that “the system” hasn’t done much to keep Jimmy down. Howard Hamlin wanted to give him a job after he became a lawyer. Davis & Main gave him every opportunity to succeed. Even the disciplinary committee is not unreasonable in questioning Jimmy’s penitence when he offers no remorse for the person he hurt with his scheme. Jimmy’s made plenty of his own mistakes, but it’s not “them” trying to hold Jimmy McGill down; it’s “him.”

That’s the trick of this season finale. Despite all the put-ons and subterfuge, Jimmy does genuinely reckon with the death of his brother, he just does it in the guise of unseen forces set against him rather than a cold body in the cold ground. It’s Chuck who tried to keep Jimmy from being on the same level as him. It’s Chuck who instigated the disciplinary proceedings that continue to be a thorn in Jimmy’s side. It’s Chuck who judged his younger sibling solely on his mistakes, who overlooked his hustle, who saw those missteps as all that Jimmy was or could be. When Jimmy rails against the system that he sees as holding him down, when he uses that as an excuse to color outside the lines, he’s really railing against the brother, and his feelings of anger and pain and grievance, that no longer have a living object of blame to sustain them.

Because Jimmy has to be the winner. If Jimmy is denied his reinstatement, if a young woman with a checkered past but a bright future can’t earn a scholarship in his brother’s name, if it’s ultimately judged that someone like Jimmy isn’t allowed to be in the profession of someone like Chuck, then it means that Chuck won, and Jimmy can’t bear that.

Despite the loss of his sibling, we only see Jimmy truly cry once this season. It’s not in front of the review board. It’s not in a quiet moment with Kim. It’s in his car, by himself, when the engine won’t start, when he feels stymied, when it seems like the forces Chuck set in motion will pull him under for good, cosmically confirming his brother’s harsh assessment of him.

There is grief in Jimmy McGill, pain caused by a severe loss. But that loss didn’t happen when Chuck died. It happened when Chuck broke his heart, turned him away, told him that he didn’t matter. As with others on T.V. this year, death didn’t mean the loss of a confidante for Jimmy; it meant the end of the possibility of approval, of pride, of the sort of family relationship Jimmy had always wanted and thought he might one day gain.

There is truth in those tears behind the wheel of an off-color sedan, a mourning in private to contrast with the show he puts on in public. And Saul Goodman -- the real Saul Goodman -- is born. Because if Jimmy couldn’t earn his brother’s love, then at least he can win, he can try to become what Chuck never thought he would, reach heights his brother never reached, no matter what lies he has to tell, what corners he has to cut, or who he has to hurt or deceive to get there. That’s Jimmy’s truth now; that’s his response to his Chuck’s death, and that’s the force that moves him from the decency and concern of the man we meet at the beginning Better Call Saul to the amoral, win-at-all-costs mentality that comes with the new name that distinguishes him from his brother.

Well, I have to admit I was already biased here before I even started watching this episode. I don't like Sci-Fi and especially space settings, so that's why it took me more than three months to get started with this season. And I have to say I didn't really like this episode. It seems like I'm in the minority with that though.

- First of all the plot/idea felt too similar to other ideas we already had - Being trapped in a game/virtual reality is just not original at this point.
- Then I was a bit thrown off by seeing so many actors I know - I was constantly thinking about Westworld and Breaking Bad. I only knew one actor from the previous three seasons and I really liked they used more unknown actors.
- I was also weirdly thrown off by the references to old Black Mirror episodes. It felt a bit too much "in your face" to me.
- I didn't like the female lead. At first she seemed interesting, but as soon as she joined the game I found her rather annoying. Bonus shoutout to the line "Stealing my pussy is a fucking red line" which made me cringe so badly that I had to take a deep breath and already knew I won't be able to like this episode.
- Actually the whole writing seemed bad. There were one or two good jokes, but the rest seemed so weirdly... cheesy and predictable.
- The ending was so unspectacular. If I recall correctly the happiest ending we had so far was San Junipero which was a "bittersweet ending" because both old women died, but they could stay together in San Junipero forever. This just seemed like a happy ending where the bad guy has to stay forever in his own cruel world and all of the other characters can escape.
- Speaking of the bad guy - I still don't understand what even happened at the end - Why did he have to fly with a random ship through the asteroids and we had such a lame chase? He was supposed to be in control of everything. He teleported everyone around before and changed their appearances and stuff. Why was he unable to do anything when they flew away with the ship? Why couldn't he stop the whole program and think about a plan, teleport to them or just straight out delete them?

All in all I'm just disappointed by this episode.

7.5/10. I don’t know whether this was brilliant, insane, terrible, or all three. The closest analogue I can think of is “Dinner Party” from The Office where, like this episode, I started to wonder whether the show I was watching was still a comedy, or had just full embraced becoming the cringiest, most uncomfortable back-and-forth you’d ever laid eyes on. Bringing the Meyers together for a puff piece turned grilling, where they’re all trying to make nice for the camera but quietly laying into one another was kind of nuts.

Truth be told, a good portion of the episode didn’t do much for me, but there was a cumulative effect of all that awkwardness, culminating in Selina and Andrew throwing one another under the bus on camera, with their daughter, as usual, suffering in the middle. Allison Janney is never not great, and bringing her in as the reporter, Janet Ryland, was a superb casting coup, bringing the perfect smile-tinged barbs to continue to stoke the discord.

Overall, I wouldn’t call it the best episode of the show, but given its focus (there was essentially one story, with some excitement from Amy at the margins), its commitment to the cringe, and its painfully real-feeling family drama, it’s certainly one of Veep’s boldest outings.

Way to go, David E. Kelley. You suckered me into sampling this one even though I knew, deep down, that you weren't capable of sustaining anything from start to finish. And you didn't let me down. I watched it all, going from being pleasantly surprised to hoping that things weren't going off the rails the way that they appeared to be going off the rails, and now I want those six hours of my life back.

In the end, there were no surprises in this one. No red herrings. No culprit cleverly revealed to viewers early on if they were paying close attention. It was about as linear as something like this can be and it played out like a lame Lifetime Channel movie.

So no more chances, Kelley. You made me think -- for a few episodes, at least -- that you'd finally gotten good at what you do. I won't make that mistake again.

Oh, and two last notes. First, the "greatest defense lawyer money can buy" was once again an idiot in the courtroom, but that, of course, is a reflection on Kelley's inability to write and not on a fictional character's ability to be a competent lawyer. And second...Jonathan took the hammer and held on to it all the way to the lake house? So that he could leave it there? Gee, it's too bad that there was absolutely NO PLACE that he could have ditched the thing between the crime scene and that cabin. Oh, wait. There were probably a hundred decent options. Huh. Go figure. Oh, never mind. I just need to put this thing in the rear view mirror and never look back.

I'm by no means a LotR purist. I love the movies (the OG trilogy, the Hobbit one different story) and I enjoyed reading The Hobbit. I finally found an audiobook that gets me into the Fellowship novel again (after several attempts to read it) but I'm by no means a hardcore fan. More a casual one really.

So believe me when I say, I went into this relatively neutral and with hope of loving it.

I don't. I didn't even like the first episode. It's a stumbling mess of set that tries too much at once.

It looks beautiful (you can definitely see the budget that went into making this) and the music is wonderful and atmospheric. The actors are fine, though I have a hard time with Galadriel, which is not saying that the actress is bad, by no means, she just feels so disconnected in looks, voice and manner from Cate Blanchett it's grading. But whatever. The issue is, it's all looks and atmosphere but pretty hollow on the inside and a pretty shall ain't make for an entertaining TV Show.

But fine, we all know by now to never judge a show by its Pilot, am I right?