Tales & Trails of a Traveling Wiseguy

I've kind of lost interest in finishing Better Call Saul. I havn't watched an episode in... checks calendar... five weeks. And I'm just two episodes from the end of the series!

BCS switches gears after episode 5.09. That was the one where Kim leaves Jimmy. Arguably that emotional loss is what tilts Jimmy into going all-in as Saul Goodman. With that the essential character arc of the series is complete. Jimmy has full transitioned from "Slippin' Jimmy" the small-time conman, to "Johnny Hustle", the hardworking young lawyer trying to carve out a career amid various people who won't give him a chance, to Saul Goodman, the no-ethics lawyer who'll break any law to make a buck, as long as he can get away with it.

The writers could have ended the series with ep. 5.09. Yeah, it would've been a ragged ending. We viewers would've wanted some kind of closure, some kind of coda that ties the story back in to Breaking Bad.

The writers give us more than just a wrap-up or coda, though. Like El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie told the tale of how Jesse Pinkman escaped to a new life post- the events of Breaking Bad, they want to tell us what happens to Jimmy post-Breaking Bad. The last 4 episodes of the series switch gears— and years; jumping the timeline from 2004 to 2010— to do so.

And that's where the series lost me. I watched the first two "Jimmy post-Breaking Bad" episodes. They aren't bad per se; they're just... tiring. Not fun. I paused the second to last episode after the opening credits because I realized I'd rather do something else than continue to watch. I paused it, got up from the TV, and walked away. That was five weeks ago now.

There's a saying in writing. Okay, maybe it's not much of a saying. I think one of my friends coined it 30-ish years ago. I call it "The 7 Deadly Words". Those words are Why do I care about these characters? I call them the seven deadly words because when audiences start saying them, it's the death knell for a series.

I saw an interesting article on Gnome Stew, the (roleplaying) gaming blog, last week: Meeting The Villain— And Letting Them Live. It's about the challenge GMs face in a roleplaying game in creating a compelling villain the players don't just mow down in a few rounds of combat. "Well, just make the villain more powerful," is the simplistic solution. But if the villain's too powerful, then what chance do the players have? The story's hard to make compelling if the players can't score any kind of win.

I've made a lot of compelling villains in my D&D games. I know they're compelling because of how the players respond to them. And part of my success has been that my villains have staying power. They remain villains across a story arc, possibly a long story arc; but they're aren't unbeatable. The players always have some way to find victory in the end, even if it takes a lot of time and effort. Here are Five Things I do to make compelling villains with staying power:

1) Do they even know who the villain is? There's a familiar trope from TV and film that the villain appears to taunt the protagonists, twirling an oiled mustache or swirling a black cape while saying something witty. It's definitely okay to play that trope for fun— I often do!— but it doesn't have to come first. I often introduce the villain's story not by showing the villain but by showing the results of one of their plots. The PCs arrive in town just in time to avert an attack by minions, or are called to a scene to help the survivors of a disaster nobody understands the cause of. They investigate and determine that someone is behind it; they just don't know who. Yet.

2) The villain moves fast. One way to block the party from engaging the villain in combat right away and chopping him/her/it/them down in 3 rounds is to give the villain mobility. Think of it from the villain's perspective: a smart villain doesn't loiter at the scene of the crime to be arrested or killed. They're there to see the results of their dastardly planning and escape before facing much risk. Mobility could be as simple as having a fast horse or being a creature, like a dragn, who can fly away. Or it could involve magic or supernatural effects, like teleporting, or turning invisible, or being able to shapeshift and blend into a crowd. In a scifi game, mobility could mean a fast spaceship or transporter technology that's beyond the garden variety bad guy's means. Seeing the villain and seeing them escape really hooks the protagonists' desire for justice.

3) The villain works through minions. Pretty much no self-respecting villain is a solo act. 😅 Even mad egotists who regard no one as being up to their level will still use grunts and patsies to carry out some of their dirty work— and defend them from trouble. The villain's escape á lá #2 is likely enabled by minions keeping the good guys at bay just long enough. The protagonists can still score a partial victory in scenes like this. Defeating minions chips away at the villain's power and is a necessary step toward the ultimate victory (see below); plus maybe they arrived on scene early enough to thwart the villain's dastardly act even though the villain lived to villainize another day.

4) The villain's lair is protected. Going straight at the villain is a simple idea many players will come up with. While as a GM you can't just saying "No" to a player idea, you absolutely can make it clear, through storytelling and action, that this is a tough, uphill battle. The villain's lair, or wherever they hang their hat, is going to be protected. Whether it's magical wards or high tech traps, the front door isn't just open for anyone to come in. There'll be minions here, too, as guard. Oh, and possibly the local law protects the villain! The PCs may well come at the villain this way— and they may well succeed, too— but to do so they're going to have to use a number of different skills and have a plan to whittle down the villain's defenses.

5) The villain is strong— but not insurmountably so. I pretty much always create the villain as being more powerful, even stripped of all their minions, than the PCs can defeat in a fair fight. At least initially. The protagonists have to earn their victory. In addition to finding/identifying the villain, defeating their minions, disarm the traps, etc., they have to decipher what else gives the villain and advantage— and how to neutralize it. That often involves gaining a level or two while pursuing the villain and also figuring out some sort of magical/technological mystery, like how to overcome the villain's weird power armor or antimagic aura. It could also involve convincing reluctant allies to join the fight.

When the group decodes the final pieces of the puzzle, it's time for the big fight— and then, if they're lucky and good, the villain goes down in 3 rounds.

One of my questions early in the Better Call Saul series was, Who's Kim? Specifically, what's her relationship with Jimmy? It was obvious from the start they're friends... but not clear at what level. There was a close camaraderie almost like they were best friends who grew up together, but there was also a sexual tension that was unresolved. Were they exes who'd stayed amicable? Just good friends? Just good friends, but Jimmy was looking to get in Kim's pants? Friends with benefits (already)?

Their relationship did become sexual back in (I think) season 2 and matured from there into one of partners living together. But as it turns out the best description of their relationship is that they're each other's ride or die. And that makes it extra sad that their joint story arc in season 4 is one of growing apart.

The showrunners tell the story poignantly in a split-screen montage at the start of episode 4.07.



Jimmy and Kim are shown going through the mundane motions of life, brushing their teeth in the morning, eating dinner in the evening without talking to each other, and lying down separately to sleep in the evenings. Occasional shots of dates on paperwork show months are passing. Jimmy and Kim still live together, but in most of the clips they're not together together; they just happen to share an apartment.

BTW, many critics and fans criticize the showrunners' use of flashbacks, flash-forwards, and time-is-passing montages. This show and Breaking Bad have used these devices frequently. The complaint is that there's an over-reliance on such devices. It's true, the creators seem to like these devices. But what the "too frequent" criticism misses is that these showrunners routinely do it well. This opening montage in episode 4.07 is one of the most compelling, and saddest, time-is-passing montages I've seen. (The only sadder one, frankly, is the opening minutes of Up!. OMG what a sad way to start an animated feature.)

What's going on here is more than just mundane routine such as eating meals. Jimmy and Kim have actually been growing apart all season, as their careers develop in different directions. The montage shows clips of this, too.



A big part of Jimmy's story in season 4, as I've noted a few times already, is dealing with the one-year suspension of his license to practice law. He finds a job selling mobile phones— but turns it shady and gets into hot water with it. Meanwhile Kim's law career is taking off. She does stumble for a bit early in the season as she questions her purpose in helping regional bank Mesa Verde, her sole client, grow bigger. In her search for purpose she starts doing pro bono work for the public defender's office. It distracts enough from her banking work, though, that it jeopardizes her relationship with Mesa Verde. But she goes to Rich Schweikart, head of Schweikart & Cokely, and offers to bring them a new banking division with Mesa Verde as its first customer. Rich hires Kim as a partner at his respectable firm and makes her manager of a team. So while Kim and her team are working with a senior partner and a bank owner to review plans (left panel above), Jimmy (right panel above) is hawking phones to criminals out the back of a van in a dirt parking lot.

It sure seems like Kim and Jimmy are headed in different directions professionally... and, ultimately, personally. Are they headed to splitsville by the season finale?

The first few episodes of Better Call Saul season 3 continue to tell a fascinating story about supporting character Mike Ehrmantraut. In my previous blog I wrote about how Mike turns the tables on mysterious adversaries who are following him since the season 2 finale. He traces them to the fast food restaurant Pollos Hermanos— which we fans of Breaking Bad know is owned by drug trafficker Gus Fring— but doesn't yet know who's behind this gang.

In episode 3.02 Mike continues staking out Pollos Hermanos to figure out who the bag man is handing off the bags of drug money to. He enlists shady lawyer Jimmy McGill— the titular character who hasn't yet changed his name to Saul Goodman— to pose as a restaurant patron and watch what the bag man does inside. The bag man enters, orders, sits down with the bag at his feet, then leaves— taking the bag with him. Jimmy checks the trash can after the mysterious man leaves, thinking maybe he made a dead drop, but finds nothing. And Gus Fring intercepts Jimmy, asking if he needs help as he rummages through the trash. Gus and his gang are now onto Mike/Jimmy, and the tables turn again.

Mike's tracker device shows that the beacon he planted in one of the money bags is moving from the store. He tails a driver in a black SUV to the desert outside of town. When the beacon stops moving on an empty desert highway, Mike realizes he's once again the mouse, not the cat, in this game of cat-and-mouse.



Mike approaches the beacon carefully, stopping behind a crest in the road and then rolling forward slowly. He sees in the middle of the road the gas cap he planted his beacon in. Sitting on top of it is a cell phone. As he approaches on foot the phone rings.

I've gotta stop right here to say it is amazing that this show— a not-animated, not-science fiction/superheroes, not-James Bond level spy movie show— successfully uses the trope of "Protagonist finds a cell phone in a crazy place and answers a call on it from the antagonist". It's amazing how they make this believable. It took a lot of damn fine plotting and writing to build up to this scene.

The great writing continues as Mike negotiates the call from his adversaries. They inform him they're going to approach him and ask him not to try using a gun. But Mike is ready with one of his acerbic quips.



The adversaries roll up in two black SUVs. Gus Fring, whom Mike doesn't know yet, emerges from one. There's an enforcer on each side of him; but Mike is unbowed. He holds up the hand-written note from his windshield in the season 2 finale— "DON'T"— and prompts Gus, "Care to elaborate?"

Recently I watched episodes 4-5-6 in the first season of Better Call Saul. On the one hand, watching 3 "hours" at a time feels a bit like bingeing. On the other hand, these "hour" long shows are actually 42 minutes— the standard run length for a program that fits in a 60-minute slot with ads. Watching them largely without ads means I can watch 3 episodes in the time it used to take to finish 2. And watching TV for just two hours isn't bingeing. 😅

Anyway, bingeing-or-not-bingeing is not the main thing I wanted to write about here. It's my disappointment that the slow pace of the show across the first 3 episodes continues in the next 3 episodes. Yeah, we've seen some seeds of the to-be Saul get planted, like how Jimmy McGill first met members of the Salamanca drug gang— spoiler alert: he tried to con the gang leader's grandma with a staged traffic accident, and thing went sideways, badly— but it's just moving so slowly.

Episode 6, titled "Five-O" does get really interesting— but it does it by telling the backstory of supporting character Mike Ehrmantraut. It's like my frustration with the crappy writing of the Star Wars spinoff The Book of Boba Fett. The writers couldn't sustain a character-driven narrative around Fett, and they rescued the show by adding in The Mandalorian hero Din Djarin— or, as I dubbed the series at that point, Boba Fett Writes a Book About a More Interesting Character. Here it's Better Call Saul turning into Better Call a More Interesting Character: Mike.

Keep reading: Mike's fascinating back-story in Better Call Saul 1.06.

In the series finale of Breaking Bad, Walter White dies. I say that without revealing spoilers because we all knew from the first episode that's how the story would end. The character has lung cancer, and even the two years he's made it in this episode is a lot longer than he was originally expected to survive. Plus, he's involved in a dangerous criminal enterprise, as a drug kingpin— and now a most-wanted fugitive from justice. You know that if the bad guys don't get him first, the good guys will. Or the cancer will.

One thing I wondered was whether Walt would go out with a bang or a whimper. It's a trope of crime gang stories that when the kingpin is the protagonist, he goes down in a blaze of glory. But the shift in tone late in the series to empire shattered suggested Walt may go out not with a bang but a whimper. Ultimately the finale is a bit of both.

There's plenty of action in episode 5.16 as Walt acts to tie up loose ends before he dies. We've already seen from flash-forwards in earlier episodes that he returns to Albuquerque and buys a machine gun from an illegal arms dealer. Then he visits his old house, now empty and vandalized, to remove the vial of ricin poison he'd hidden inside. Now that the timeline has caught up we see that using these weapons isn't the first thing Walt does in Albuquerque.

( Episode spoilers (click/tap to open) )

The cataclysmic last episode of Breaking Bad season 4 ended with a clue that Walt had poisoned Brock, the child of Jesse's girlfriend, to manipulate Jesse. Online fan sites mostly stated it as a fact that Walt did this dastardly deed. I pushed back in a journal entry I wrote, explaining that the clues were very scant, hardly at all probitive, and that important links that were missing were how Walt could have stolen a key item from Jesse (the two were estranged and got in a fist fight immediately the one time they saw each other) and given the poisoned item to the child (whom he also saw only briefly). Well, in the first two episodes of season 5 the writers show plenty of evidence that, yes, Walt did it.

The new evidence goes like this:

• When Walt's cleaning up evidence in his house from murdering Gus Fring, he throws his potted plant, lily of the valley, in the bag with the bomb-making equipment he's disposing of. Lily of the valley was what the child, Brock, had ingested.


• Saul gives Walt the ricin-laced cigarette Walt made for Jesse to give to Gus. Indeed, Walt had had no opportunity to take it back from Jesse without Jesse knowing. Saul says, in a bit of expository, that his security goon, Huell, had pick-pocketed it from Jesse.


• Walt takes the ricin cigarette back to plant it in Jesse's house, as Jesse is freaking out that it went missing from his pocket.

Okay, the writers want us to know that Walt did this evil thing. It makes sense as a new low for his character. But the circumstances still don't make much sense as writing.

• How and when did Huell pick-pocket Jesse? Huell is a physically large man portrayed as a bit clumsy and totally unsubtle. He'd have to perform not one but three sleights-of-hand. One, to pilfer the pack of cigarettes from Jesse's pocket. Two, to remove the ricin cigarette (and know which one it was). And Three, to put the pack of cigarettes back in Jesse's pocket. The writers' explanation of how this happened strains belief.


• And how was the poisonous Lily of the Valley given to Brock? Did Huell do that also? What, like some big intimidating stranger comes up to a kid and says, "Here, kid, eat this candy," and the kid eats it? The show is set in 2010, not 1970 when 10 year old kids might have been naïve enough to gulp down candy from strangers.


• Oh, and the whole cigarette switcheroo wasn't even critical path for the poisoning. It was a red herring to get Jesse agitated. And there was no guarantee it would've worked. One, Jesse had to notice it at the right time. And two, the point was to get Jesse suspecting Gus. That was a very tenuous link (as I explained in my previous blog on the topic), and Walt could've made the argument just as well without the red herring of the missing cigarette.

Again, I get it, the writers are making it clear that Walt poisoned the kid. It's their story, and what they say, goes. But as an audience member it's my prerogative to point out it's lazy, poor writing.

The season finale of Breaking Bad's season 4 was an epic episode. It was full of drama, tension, suspense, action, and— most importantly— plot resolution.

Several episode back main character Walt decided he'd have to kill drug lord Gus, played by Giancarlo Esposito. Walt had crossed Gus too many times (even once was too many) and figured out, accurately, that Gus would kill him as soon as he could do so without jeopardizing his business. Now, Gus is a stone-cold killer, so you know that as a matter of narrative art, Gus's death at Walt's hands would have to be dramatic.

Walt, the chemistry wiz, builds a pipe bomb in his kitchen. He conspires with Jesse to lure Gus into a face-to-face meeting and places the bomb under Gus's car while Gus is in the meeting. Gus somehow senses that something is amiss when he returns to his car, pauses to look around, and leaves the area before getting within 50' of the car.

BTW, while this scene makes for great tension, it seems too artificial that Gus sensed something wrong. Did Walt screw up and leave a clue? The episode does not show that he did. This tension would have been better if it were revealed that there was something there there, instead it just being Gus getting a magical spidey sense tingling.

The failure of bombing Gus's car leads Walt to an even more dastardly plan. He finds out that Hector Salamanca, a former drug cartel capo, is in a nursing home in town and that Gus goes to visit him occasionally... to taunt him, as the two men are enemies. Hector is no friend of Walt's, as he considers Walt to have betrayed his nephew, resulting in his death. But Walt figures that Hector hates Gus even more, as Gus orchestrated the deaths of everyone in his family. Walt approaches Hector with a murder-suicide offer, and Hector agrees.

To bait Gus into coming to the nursing home in person again, Hector puts on a show of becoming a DEA informant. He comically wastes the DEA's time, but Gus doesn't know that; al he knows is that Hector appears to have turned into a cooperating witness. Gus decides he will kill Hector, personally. And the trap is set!

( Gory scene - including still frame from video )

Gus, ever the stone-cold killer, straightens his tie one last time before he falls to the floor, dead.

First of all, yes, this is now the 3rd blog about Breaking Bad I've posted today. But no, this little spurt doesn not indicate I'm bingeing the series. It's three journal entries: one for starting the series, and one each for the first two episodes. And that's all I've watched so far, two episodes.

I've remarked before that one upside of catching up on an older series is being able to watch episodes in rapid succession instead of having to wait a week between episodes and then 8 to 12+ months between seasons. But I don't actually binge. I mean, not in the binge sense of plopping down in front of the TV for an entire day or binge-watching multiple seasons of episodes in a single week. Like most of us learned to do growing up, you eat ice cream slowly instead of gobbling it because it draws out the pleasure. And it avoids the dreaded ice cream headache. There's no ice cream headache with TV watching, but it's good we had that extra helper as children to encourage developing better habits.

As for this blog, I'm going to try to limit myself to writing about mostly one thing per episode. Yes, sometimes in the past with other series I've done "Five Things" blogs about a single episode, even adding "Another Five Things" once or twice. But here, especially because I know going into this series there are 62 episodes, I'm going to pace my writing just like I'm pacing my watching.

My topic for this episode's blog is the transformation of Walter White as a character. In my first blog I noted that showrunner Vince Gilligan has said in interviews that this show is about an ordinary school teacher's transformation from Mr. Chips (Wikipedia link) to Scarface (ditto). The interesting question, then, is how fast this transformation occurs.

While Shakespearean dramatic structure calls for Act I (of five) to set the context and for the critical trigger event that sets the rest of the plot in motion to occur only in Act II, modern TV isn't so patient as to spend 20% of a series just setting things up. The trigger's basically got to happen in the first episode, whetting audience interest and signalling where the show is going to go. Thus White gets off to a start right away in the first episode.

After learning he has inoperable cancer White begins working in the illegal drug trade. His first drug deal goes bad, and he kills one or two people. (An argument could be made for self-defense.) All that happens in well under an hour.

The second episode shows that White's transformation is a much longer character arc than just one episode. The mild mannered high school teacher is not a drug-dealing, murdering bad-ass now. Not yet, anyway. He struggles with what he's doing. He feels trapped by what's happened and balks at taking further steps down the path.

White's character changes in small ways, too, as he processes his terminal sickness and his taste of the criminal world. He pushes back against people who, in the past would've pushed him around. He tells his boss at the carwash— his second job because teaching high school doesn't pay enough— to shove it when the boss tells him to scrub tires again. He hits a teen/young adult in a clothing store who's loudly and openly mocking his handicapped son. The young bully and his friends square up to fight back... and White dares them with a threat. "Go ahead, take your swing. But you only get one." White even snaps at his wife, telling her to "Get out of [his] ass," when she's prying about what's come over him.

FWIW I'm not sure if I see Walter's wife, Skyler, as a sympathetic character or not. She's portrayed in these early episodes as not particularly tuned in to what Walter wants or cares about. In a scene at the breakfast table Walt tells a story about something that happened at school. Skyler patiently waits until he's done talking then changes the subject completely. In another scene she dismisses out of hand his desire to see a museum exhibit over the weekend. Sheesh, it's his 50th birthday, maybe that's what he wanted to do! Instead she threw him a surprise birthday party with all her friends and relatives attending. And then, finally, there's the fact that while he's already busting his ass with a demeaning second job at a car wash, she's not working a job that pays. She's selling trinkets on eBay and talking about writing a book. I believe that if she were truly a partner she would put aside her own fantasies— much like she brushed aside Walt's interest in spending a day visiting a museum— to support financially her struggling family.

The streaming TV series Timeless (2016-2018) open with a simple premise. A brilliant inventor has secretly invented a time machine. But then a terrorist steals it and uses it to go back in time to muck with key historical events. A small team of heroes have to jump in the other time machine— an earlier prototype the inventor built— to chase after the terrorist and prevent him from changing history in ways that could upend the modern world. What if Nazi Germany triumphed in WWII? What if the US fell apart after the Civil War?



As with any good story, we readers/watchers soon learn there's more to it than that.

In the first episode the villain of the story has a chance moment alone with the protagonist. Rather than fight her he challenges her, "Ask them about Rittenhouse." She gets home and asks the government agent leading the task force. The agent says she's never heard of Rittenhouse. But the seed of suspicious is planted— both with the protagonist and with us. There's a deeper story here.

Over the next several episodes we learn that Rittenhouse is the name of some conspiracy, like the Illuminati or the Freemasons. It's a shadowy organization of powerful people with influence in government and industry. They're secretly pulling strings. In fact they funded the creation of the time machines— so they could travel to the past and change things to enhance their power. But what are their goals?

What are their goals? is a legit question, because you wonder how bad this group really is. Do they want wealth? Do they want power? What's their vision for how to use that wealth and power? I mean, plenty of wealthy and powerful people want to amass more wealth and power. How is this any worse?

At this point the series reminded me of various table top games about conspiracies and/or time travel. For example, there's the Steve Jackson Games classic Illuminati and the card game Chrononauts. In these games the players represent rival conspiracies. Each has its own victory conditions it's trying to achieve. Some want to amass fabulous wealth. Some want to control the levers of power. Some want to... destroy the world as we know it.

Is Rittenhouse the proverbial space cockroaches, happy with nuclear annihilation of the earth as an outcome? Presumably not; members of the Rittenhouse conspiracy are portrayed as human. But the writers don't give us much other than assuming because it's a conspiracy it's got to be bad. I mean, they could portray Rittenhouse as, say, a Nazi type organization. But they don't. Yeah, they're a bit sexist and racist. But frankly less so in this 2016 streaming series than mainstream Republican politicians in real-world 2024.