I better call Saul, 'cause it looks like I'm gonna break bad.

i don't think i've seen a more impressive show, in terms of writing, cinematography, and editing. a lot of the shot choices were quite outlandish yet still top notch and executed perfectly. i loved the use of wide angle extreme long shots especially. in every episode they always found an interesting spot to put the camera, in ways i've never seen done before. several episodes start out with quite impressive continuous shots. every low key lighting shot is eye candy. lighting is also heavily used for symbolism, which is a nice touch. storywise, it's definitely a painful watch at some points, but not in a bad way. more painful as it goes on, but to a lesser degree than breaking bad. the stunts jimmy manages to pull off never left me unimpressed, no matter how concerning. the characters are much more complex. they're all given their time to shine and be understood. and every plot point finds it time to intertwine with one another, sooner or later. the pacing took me a little bit of getting used to, but now i have a deep appreciation for it. first time i went through the first two seasons, i had trouble keeping my eyes open, but i rewatched them before finishing the series and i found myself much more captivated once i was used to the pacing. there's also a lot of really well done montages, one in particular was pretty campy, which was probably their intent, but the rest play back in my mind like a screensaver. the scoring is great, and songs played over certain sequences create a really cool melancholic effect. overall better call saul is probably one of the most ingeniously produced shows, it may not be for everyone, but damn is it good.

(CASTELLANO) Lo primero que me ha pasado con Better Call Saul es lo inevitable: compararla todo el rato con Breaking Bad. Y claro, ahí siempre sale perdiendo un poco. No tiene esos estallidos de adrenalina, ni esa sensación constante de que todo va a explotar en cualquier momento. Es una serie más pausada, más contenida, que prefiere quedarse en los matices y en los silencios antes que en los grandes golpes de efecto. Aun así, me ha gustado mucho; simplemente juega en otra liga, más discreta, pero muy pensada. Lo que más engancha es ver cómo Jimmy McGill se va deslizando, casi sin darse cuenta, hacia Saul Goodman. No es un giro brusco, es una deriva lenta, llena de pequeñas decisiones dudosas que vas entendiendo, aunque no las compartas. Ese “yo soy yo y mi circunstancia” aquí se ve clarísimo: familia, rencores, necesidad de reconocimiento, dinero, ego… Todo se mezcla hasta que el personaje que conocíamos en Breaking Bad encaja del todo. Bob Odenkirk aguanta esta evolución con una interpretación llena de humanidad: te ríes con él, te cae bien, pero sabes que se está perdiendo. La serie tiene otra gran baza en sus secundarios. Kim no es solo “la novia de”, es un personaje con vida propia, con sus propias contradicciones, que poco a poco se va contagiando del mundo de Jimmy hasta cruzar líneas que en la primera temporada parecían impensables. Mike, por su parte, funciona como ese contrapunto seco y cansado, alguien que ya ha aceptado el tipo de vida que lleva y decide cargar con ello sin hacerse demasiadas preguntas, aunque por dentro aún queden restos de conciencia. Junto a ellos, la galería de jueces, delincuentes, jefes de despacho y miembros del cartel llena el universo de caras que siempre aportan algo. En lo visual, la serie mantiene el sello del universo Breaking Bad: encuadres raros pero muy pensados, esa luz de Albuquerque casi cegadora, los detalles que cuentan cosas sin necesidad de diálogo (un coche, un vaso, un cambio de color). A veces da la sensación de que va “lenta”, pero si te dejas llevar, ves que esa calma es deliberada: te está preparando para cuando todo se tuerza. No tiene los fuegos artificiales del final de Breaking Bad, pero sí momentos que se te quedan grabados por pura tristeza, por puro desgaste moral. Al final, me queda la sensación de que Better Call Saul vive siempre a la sombra de un monstruo sagrado y eso hace que, para mí, no llegue a estar a su altura. Pero también me queda claro que no necesita imitarla para justificar su existencia. Es otra cosa: más íntima, más gris, menos “espectacular”, pero muy sólida y muy coherente con lo que quiere contar. No es la serie que cambiará tu vida, pero sí una de esas a las que te cuesta despedirte porque has acabado sintiendo a sus personajes casi como gente que conoces. Y eso, hoy en día, no es poca cosa. (ENGLISH) Inevitably, the first thing that happened to me with Better Call Saul was comparing it all the time to Breaking Bad. And of course, it always comes out losing a bit there. It doesn’t have those bursts of adrenaline, or that constant feeling that everything is about to explode. It’s a more patient, more contained series, one that prefers to stay in the nuances and silences rather than in big shocks. Even so, I liked it a lot; it’s just playing in a different league, quieter, but very carefully thought out. What hooks you most is watching Jimmy McGill slowly slide, almost without realising it, into Saul Goodman. It’s not a sharp turn; it’s a slow drift, full of small dubious choices that you understand, even if you don’t agree with them. That “I am myself and my circumstances” is crystal clear here: family, resentment, the need for recognition, money, ego… everything mixes until the character we knew in Breaking Bad finally clicks. Bob Odenkirk carries this evolution with a performance full of humanity: you laugh with him, you like him, but you know he’s losing himself. The show’s other big asset is its supporting cast. Kim is not just “the girlfriend”; she’s a fully rounded character, with her own contradictions, who slowly becomes infected by Jimmy’s world until she crosses lines that in the first season seemed unthinkable. Mike, meanwhile, works as a dry, weary counterpoint, someone who has already accepted the life he leads and decides to carry it without asking too many questions, even if there are still traces of conscience buried inside. Around them, the gallery of judges, criminals, bosses and cartel members fills the universe with faces that always add something. Visually, the series keeps the Breaking Bad seal: odd but very deliberate framing, that blinding Albuquerque light, little details that tell you things without any dialogue (a car, a cup, a colour shift). Sometimes it feels “slow”, but if you let it take you, you see that calm is deliberate: it’s getting you ready for when everything goes wrong. It doesn’t have the fireworks of Breaking Bad’s finale, but it does have moments that stick with you for pure sadness, for sheer moral wear and tear. In the end I’m left with the feeling that Better Call Saul always lives in the shadow of a sacred monster, and that means that, for me, it never quite reaches its level. But it’s also clear that it doesn’t need to imitate it to justify existing. It’s something else: more intimate, greyer, less “spectacular”, but very solid and very consistent with what it wants to tell. It’s not the series that will change your life, but it is one of those shows that’s hard to say goodbye to, because you end up feeling its characters almost like people you actually know. And that, these days, is not nothing.

I have always seen Jimmy McGill as a man who never truly became Saul Goodman. Instead he hid inside the name, treating it as armor assembled one piece at a time whenever being himself led to fresh injury. The series traces how that costume took shape across six seasons, each chapter adding another layer after another wound. Saul is not the person beneath; he is the protection Jimmy buys when the cost of staying Jimmy grows too high. Early on, Jimmy arrives in Albuquerque already carrying the reputation of Slippin’ Jimmy from Cicero. He works his way through a mailroom job and a correspondence law degree, only to hear from his own brother that a law license will never make him legitimate. That early verdict frames everything that follows: the idea that Jimmy McGill is permanently suspect and must be kept at a distance. As the seasons advance, the pressure to perform the role of Jimmy McGill becomes its own trap. He tries legitimate offices and legitimate cases, yet the fit never feels right. The name Saul Goodman surfaces first as a joke, then as a practical shield, and finally as the only version of himself that can move through the world without constant damage. Each new situation simply confirms that the armor works better than the man underneath. By the time the series reaches its later years, the distinction is complete. Saul is no longer a temporary front; he is the permanent barrier that keeps the original Jimmy from having to stand exposed again. The show makes clear that this identity was never an organic transformation but a deliberate construction, tailored after every instance in which being Jimmy proved too costly.