TV Database Better Call Saul (2015)

Just a few months ago, I watched a cancer-stricken chemistry teacher go from high school burnout to cartel boogeyman. So naturally, the next stop on this cheerful train of life choices is a spin-off about the scummiest, loudest-mouthed lawyer in Breaking Bad’s orbit. Because when Walter White’s descent ends in fire and blood, who wouldn’t want to see how Saul Goodman started?

Now, Better Call Saul isn’t some shameless post-Breaking Bad cash-in, though it easily could’ve been. The show’s been brewing since back when Breaking Bad was still airing its final season, and it started as a kind of thought experiment—what if we built a legal drama where the lawyer actively tries to avoid the courtroom? That’s the delicious irony Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould cooked up: a show about law that’s not really about law at all, but about bending rules until they snap, and then pretending they never existed. In that sense, it’s the perfect thematic follow-up to Breaking Bad. The world hasn’t changed—just the guy stumbling through it.

“Uno,” the pilot episode, is all about introducing Jimmy McGill—not Saul Goodman, not yet. What we get instead is a desperate, fast-talking wannabe who’s barely keeping it together in a threadbare office behind a nail salon. He’s got the patter, sure, and that greasy charisma that feels like it’s one drink away from being charming, but the magic? Not quite there. He’s hustling low-level public defender cases that don’t pay, trying to scrounge business from embezzlers, and stumbling into scams that feel more like Hail Marys than schemes. Jimmy’s lawyering isn’t about principle—it’s about survival. And it’s already clear that he’s someone who wants to do the right thing... as long as it doesn’t get in the way of his need to win.

What’s compelling here is how Jimmy’s hustle isn’t just about ambition—it’s about identity. He wants legitimacy. He wants respect. But he also wants to skip steps. And that tension drives everything he does. He tears up a fat check not because he’s too noble to take the money, but because taking it would mean accepting the pecking order he’s spent his whole life trying to outtalk. It’s a fascinating contrast to Walter White, who also turned down big money early in Breaking Bad, but from a place of pure pride and ego. Walt refused a handout because he wanted to prove the world wrong. Jimmy refuses a payout because he wants to prove he still matters—and maybe because he’s afraid that easy money always comes with a leash.

I’ll be honest—I didn’t come into Better Call Saul with fireworks in my chest. This wasn’t an "I’ve been dying to watch this" situation. It’s more of an "I finished Breaking Bad, and it’s the next thing in the queue" situation. Obligatory viewing, with hopes cautiously pinned to the reputation it’s built over time. Plenty of people claim it’s even better than the original, and while that’s a tall order (especially for a prequel), I’m open to being won over. I just need it to give me something—depth, tension, character work, anything that isn’t just dry court procedures and overwritten monologues.

Luckily, this pilot leans into its strengths. It’s not a courtroom drama—it’s a human drama with a legal crust. It’s messy, sad, occasionally hilarious, and filled with little details that hint at bigger cracks underneath. From the mall-bound future version of Saul silently watching his old commercials, to the moment he faces down a trash can in a parking garage like it personally betrayed him, Jimmy McGill already feels like a fully realized, tragicomic figure: a man both too smart and too small for the life he’s clawing toward.

And if the end of the episode is anything to go by, this show knows exactly when to ground you and when to pull the rug out. I may not have been dying to watch this—but if this is where we’re starting, I’m more than willing to see where it goes.