Better Call Saul: The Beginning and End of Saul Goodman in “Magic Man”

Five seasons in, and I still don’t know what to make of the flash-forwards to Cinnabon Gene. I always think of The Wire’s approach to these opening vignettes, with the idea that they’re meant to be microcosms of the themes of the season. But that doesn’t seem to fit here, since Gene’s choices largely track with Jimmy’s in the show to date. The cold open shows Gene panicking, worrying that he’s in too deep and looking for a way out, only to decide to take matters into his own hands. That’s been Jimmy’s M.O. for basically the whole series, most recently and notably overcoming his disciplinary suspension despite some serious headwinds.

But what strikes me about our glimpse of Cinnabon Gene in “Magic Man” is how hard he works to avoid being identified as Saul Goodman in that not-so-distant future. He waits out the heat in a diner. He stays holed up at home listening to the police blotter to make sure no one’s coming for him. He seems willing to kill, or at least color outside the lines, to keep a random cab driver with Albuquerque connections from outing him as Saul.

And yet, when we see him in the past as Jimmy McGill, we see how hard he works to rebrand himself with that name and image. No one knows for sure where those black and white segments will lead or what they mean, but there’s a contrast at play in this episode. Cinnabon Gene is doing all he can to run away from the life and persona of Saul Goodman, and Jimmy McGill is doing everything he can to establish it.

Unfortunately that may come at the expense of his relationship with Kim Wexler. In fairness, I’ve been unhappily predicting the death or departure of Kim for multiple seasons now, so take this all with a grain of salt. Better Call Saul is nothing if not a slow-burn show, and each potential dissolution for Jimmy and Kim has, time and again, settled into an uneasy detente.

"And you can see that this prenuptial agreement clearly includes a 'no loud suits' clause."

Nevertheless, however much she may sublimate it, Jimmy’s willingness to throw away his brother’s name in the season 4 finale still clearly bothers Kim. She’s not exactly enamored at the idea of him tossing aside his elder law practice and using mercenary tactics to represent criminals and low-lifes. It feels, as it has for some time, like this relationship is headed for a breaking point. But for now, Kim just makes gentle comments and winces when she hears her boyfriend’s plans, not wanting to interfere despite her disapproval.

That’s the subtle theme of “Magic Man” — partners with different styles who are each, in their own way, trying to make it work despite more and more cracks forming. That’s certainly true for Nacho and Lalo. The former remains the subtler, more subdued businessman who is content to keep a good thing going, while the latest Salamanca boss on Better Call Saul shares his relatives’ more impulsive and violent nature.

There’s a tension there, and “Magic Man” only teases how the differences in their approaches — to scouts complaining of a stepped on package, operations at their safe house, and relations with Fring — might create fissures later. But the basic distinctions in how the two deal with others seem to suggest there’ll be more problems to come.

That’s magnified by the suggestion that Nacho is still tipping Gus off about what Lalo is thinking, helping but also complicating the further strained partnership between Gus and the Salamancas. Lalo sniffs out the fact that Gus is giving him inferior product and is suspicious of the construction problem that “Michael” and Werner were involved in. Despite that, “the chicken man” has an arsenal of ready-made excuses.

"Wait, you mean we have to actually build a whole chicken cooler now?"

He blames the inferior drugs on Werner having absconded with the original batch, forcing Gus to replace them using the local supply. He blames Werner’s flight and Mike’s pursuit on an internal theft. He chalks up his construction plans to a “chicken cooler.” It’s the perfect set of alibis, ones that even the preternaturally prepared Mr. Fring likely wouldn’t have been able to foresee without a little help from inside the Salamanca organization.

That’s what makes Nacho’s position so interesting, despite the fact that he’s only officially a small part of this episode. He is, once again, caught between two very dangerous men. Lalo is not like Tuco or even Hector. He seems smarter, knowing when the product is substandard, piecing things together, and deciding to mistrust Gustavo’s guile rather than hate him for hit. Lola now looks like a worthier adversary to Fring and a greater threat to Nacho than his introduction last season suggested.

But things are far from flawless in Gus’s organization either. While Fring may have staved off the pressure from the Salamancas vis-a-vis Werner, Mike is still smarting from it. This is Better Call Saul, so the show dramatizes that anger and regret subtly and effectively.

As Mike sends the remaining members of Werner’s crew on their merry ways, replete with different destinations and means of transportation, Werner’s guys give him the business. When one of them tells Mike that Werner’s death had to happen, because he was “soft,” Mike knocks him over with a right hand that punctures the already awkward air of the moment. It’s easy to think that Mike, having just told these guys to keep their mouths shut about what happened, is punishing this worker for already breaking that code. But when another worker simply tells Mike that Werner was “worth fifty of you,” the grizzled vet lets it slide.

"My problem's mainly with you wearing that heavy coat in the desert."

It’s a revealing moment of discretion, one that shows that Mike’s grievance wasn’t with the first guy opening his yap. It was with the way he bad-mouthed Werner. Mike is a professional who does what needs to be done. But Werner was his friend. That means Mike will brook a member of Werner’s crew standing up for their deceased boss, even if it breaks that vow of silence, but he won’t stand for one of them spitting on the man’s grave.

That acrimony’s enough to spark a temporary divorce for Mike and Gus. Breaking Bad fans know this split won’t last forever. But however professional Mike is, it’s interesting to see him stand on principle once again here. He knows how to keep his own mouth shut and let the heat die down. Despite that, he’s still sore over Gus’s orders. He scoffs at Werner’s widow receiving “compensation.” And he’s angry enough at what he had to do to his friend that he’s willing to forego getting “paid to do nothing,” while Gus waits for Lalo’s pressure to subside.

It’s the kind of principled stand that Jimmy seems almost wholly unwilling to make at this point. Instead, free of the burden of being “Chuck’s lousy little brother,” Jimmy has the freedom to indulge in his showiest, most colorful shtick. There’s still an air of tragedy to seeing him continue down this path toward criminality and a lowest common denominator life. But it’s also an absolute thrill to see him work his titular magic.

Jimmy’s business plan is legitimately clever. It’s neat to see him parlaying his perilous phone business into the start of his criminal defense practice. Harnessing the contacts from his burner enterprise and understanding the need within that crowd for legal representation is a smart move. At the same time, the montage where he pitches his services to an array of motley customers is a joy. Likewise, it’s unbelievably fun to see Jimmy’s old film crew pop up in the halls of the courthouse and put his old colleague on the spot in a dose of guerilla marketing. There’s surely more/worse to come, but Saul Goodman has been taken off the leash, and it’s entertaining, if nothing else, to see him carnival barking at full volume.

All the best lawyers set up shop in tents, right?

But that seems to portend bad things for him and Kim. It’s not lost on the show that she and Jimmy are, more or less, in the same line of work at this point. She’s helping those in genuine need of a second chance at no cost to them, while he’s representing anyone with a pulse and rap sheet and the means to pay. But they’re operating in the same courtrooms, fighting the same DAs, and almost inevitably going to clash down the line.

The first, and gentlest of those conflicts comes when Kim struggles to convince one of her clients to take a plea deal. She tries her way — a method of frankness and honesty — and gets nowhere. Jimmy offers one of his usual schemes — pretending to be a DA who’s pulling the deal for new evidence — and Kim rejects it. When he pushes harder, she rejects it more curtly, and yet another fissure emerges for the couple who could be partners at home but not at the office.

At the end of the day, though, Kim goes for it. She does it without Jimmy’s help, but she uses his ploy, and sure enough, her client listens to reason (or fear) and goes along with what she believes is the right thing for him. Afterward, though, she walks into the stairwell and looks like she’s going to be sick, like it hurts her to do this in a way Jimmy simply doesn’t feel, another burr in the saddle for one more partnership in trouble.

"There goes my free weekly cinnabon."

That’s the problem though — Jimmy’s methods work. They’ve always worked, and for as long as he strived to rise above them, to put his hustle to good use and harness his powers for good, now he’s formally going by Saul, and intends to unleash that beast. It’s a thrill to see him in action, but also sad, because we know where that path leads him.

It leads to a man willing to do whatever he can to shed that name. It leads to a sad middle-aged schlub slinging cinnamon buns at mall patrons. It leads to a guy quaking in his boots over the prospect that the cops could be around any corner and that some loudmouth in a tracksuit could be an old ghost coming back to haunt him. “Magic Man” gives us both ends of the Saul Goodman spectrum here, the before and the after. Neither portends great things for the man trying desperately to get your call, or the man who resolutely ends his own call for help.

[One more note: Rest in peace, Robert Forster. It’s nice to see him make one last(?) appearance in the Breaking Bad-verse after his great turn in El Camino. His presence on the show was always a welcome one, and I’m sorry he had to leave so soon.]