Better Call Saul – a eulogy

It’s an odd thing, finishing a TV show. As someone who’s been writing for the same series for about six years now – granted, we’re not high concept drama but a long-running medical – I can’t imagine how hard it must be to write something that not only pleases yourself, but all the people involved in making the show – and in the end, the crowd. There’s so much riding on those final minutes! I mean, people still talk about the final scene of the sopranos (don’t stop! believing!) or LOST (we’ve been waiting for you). This is your last chance to reveal your hand. If you’re too obvious, people will think you’re an idiot. If you’re too open, they will think you didn’t know what story you were telling – and then think you’re an idiot.

Basically, writers are idiots either way.

When Breaking Bad ended, I wasn’t worried. The third to last episode, Ozymandias, was an incredible piece of television, a riveting hour in which Walter White’s entire house of cards came crashing down and almost ever promise the show made in its five previous seasons was fulfilled. For me, the show ended with that episode, and the two following episodes were an epilogue in which they would tie up Walter White’s and Jesse Pinkman’s relationship about a year after Ozymandias.

Now, with Better Call Saul, we have a similar story construct: throughout the show’s six seasons, there’s black in white scenes which function as a flashforward teasing Saul’s life after the events of Breaking Bad. The show itself, however, takes place before Walter White ever happened. For about five seasons, the black and white scenes are nothing more than fluff. Very little happens, and while watching Saul’s relationship with his brother, with Kim, with Lalo, you kind of forget about it.

As the series progressed, I grew increasingly worried. The further we went along, the more the show – which started as a courtroom drama – revolved around the doings of Gus Fring and Lalo Salamanca, two drug baron rivals who had very little to do with our main character. And when a showdown between Lalo and Saul finally happened five episodes before the series would end, I was scared of the consequences. Was this the endgame of this show? A showdown between Saul and a dude selling meth?

Turns out, I shouldn’t have worried. An episode later, the Lalo storyline ended. A new conflict – one which had been subtly brewing under the surface for six seasons – was established. And this conflict pushed the story into the future realm of black and white.

Breaking Bad’s and Better Call Saul’s cinematography is amazing. I could watch scenes from these shows all day just to admire how they were shot. They are often daring and linger on things a smidge longer than anyone would dare, and this is especially true of the final episode, which – with a few exceptions – are entirely in black and white.

It’s consistent storytelling, and it’s such a rare thing. Anyone in. the industry in their right mind would say that after one episode, the show had to switch back to its vibrant colour palette. But it never did. They had a concept and they stuck by it.

And it pays off: Better Call Saul absolutely nails the ending. The final five episodes are the best the show has made. And the finale not only finishes the series, but give an organic extra layer to Breaking Bad’s ending without retconning what arguably was and is the best show ever produced on television (fight me).

There’s so much more to say about Better Call Saul (and Breaking Bad), and I think I deserve a spanking for not writing at least three more pages about Kim Wexler, one of the most interesting characters on the show, portrayed by Rhea Seehorn. So I’ll just leave this here:

See that performance? See how they frame that? See that hand? What madman who do this? And why aren’t we all doing it?!

Breaking Bad / Better Call Saul

So I just finished the final episode of Better Call Saul. What an ending. I’m blown away – as I expected. The entire series may not have been quite as good as breaking bad, but it was the best thing I watched on television nonetheless.

It’s weird that this show is over. I’ve spent 13 years in New Mexico, following two stories about people reinventing themselves and finding out who they are. Oh, and about drugs and money. And now it’s just gone. No more unexpected plot twists. No more incredible montages. No more wonderful, drawn-out cinematography and storytelling that takes its time.

Albaquerque, I’m gonna miss you.

Until Dawn

Like any selfrespecting author, there are plenty of things I absolutely hate about myself. But nothing is more annoying than my inability to deal with the horror genre. Yes, I’m a scaredy-cat – and never has this been more annoying than during my time with the PS4 horror game “Until Dawn”.

Because god damn, that game is good.

The premise is deviously simple: Until Dawn is a choose-your-own-adventure-style horror game, an interactive movie in which you alternate between eight teenage cliches as they try to survive a particularly gruesome night. So far, there’s been ghosts, werewolves, clowns, and – because the game keeps asking what I find scariest of all – a whole lot of scarecrows. God damn I hate scarecrows.

So how does this work? It’s quite easy: you play “scenes” from what is essentially an eight hour horror epic and sometimes, the game will ask you to make mistakes. Do you want Ashley to crush Chris superhard or do you want to give him the cold shoulder? Do you want to shoot a squirrel for fun? Watch out, that squirrel might just give you a bloody wound which a particularly scary clown murderer can smell five hours later.

You win the game if, at dawn, all characters survive. But it’s also impossible to know what will kill them or not. And that’s where the fun is: Wondering what the repercussions of your micro-decisions will be. The characters are all perfectly tailor-made to kind of *want* to kill them, but they’re also kind of endearing in their own right – because their dialogues are incredibly witty. It makes role-playing as “the cool jock with abandonment issues” all the more fun – and it’s amazing to see him hung from a meat hook later on.

RIP Matt, we hardly knew ye.

So yeah, I love this game. But I play it five minutes at a time with cozy music in the background. And if one more ghost suddenly jumps on the screen, I will lose my shit and hurly my controller at the TV.

I can’t wait for the sunrise to come and release me. Fuck this game. Fuck this amazing game.

(Do people still do blogs nowadays?)