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| Photo: Nicole Wilder/AMC/Sony Pictures Television |
The real nailbiter comes when a hospital worker stops him on the way out, explaining there's an issue with his social security number. For anyone else, this would be a minor annoyance, but for the scammer formerly known as Saul Goodman, it's defcon 1. So is the silent, scowling cab driver who would've been written off as creepy by most of us, yet is treated by Gene with the gravitas of the last face he'll ever see. The flash forwards are a great plot device; while we know where Jimmy ends up, just not the how, we're just as clueless as he is as to when his past will catch up with him.
And back in said past, Jimmy is dealing with the aftermath of his brother's death. The inspector says it was smoke inhalation that killed Chuck, and it was likely an accident, but Jimmy knows better, especially when he mentions the household electronics spread across the backyard. Later, Howard reads off a rough draft of Chuck's obituary, a laundry list of professional achievements and community service. It says nothing of the man who lorded those accomplishments over his own flesh and blood, whom he treated with either head-shaking condescension or outright contempt. The man afflicted by crippling mental illness yet too arrogant to acknowledge it is nowhere to be found. As with most obituaries, all the bad is scrubbed away in favor of the good. Jimmy listens to Howard for a while, but eventually puts the phone down and walks away. Kim finishes the call and offers him a drink. Jimmy remains silent throughout, his face never dropping its grim expression. It's hard to tell whether he's grieving, wrestling with guilt for his part in their fued, or seething, both about the way Chuck died and the fact he'll now be remembered as a world-class lawyer and all-around good guy. Whatever his feelings, he's deep into them and the alcohol, sitting in the same position until the bottle is empty and the sun has come up.
Mike is in a decidely better headspace, quitting his job at the toll booth (though he doesn't get to keep the windbreaker) for his new job as "security consultant," for Gus Fring. He can make his own hours and is pulling in the big boy checks from Madrigal Electromotive, the parent company of Los Pallos Hermanos. Most men would gladly take the check and pull a no-show, but Mike Ehrmantraut ain't most men. So he decides to pay the office a visit by stealing an employee's ID card. He saunters in, settles an Ali versus Bruce Lee debate in the break room, signs Tina's birthday card and explores the building warehouse unbothered. The cherry on top is when a manager interrupts his dressing down of their security and safety policies and asks just who he is. His answer: "Ehrmantraut. Security consultant." I swear if Mike ended that mic drop with a "bloop!" I would still be laughing. But as far as I know, no one was topping off their clapbacks like that back in the early Aughts, so we won't bear witness to that glorious exchange.
In other shady dealings news, Nacho's gamble to posion Hector in order to save his father from the drug cartel game pays off. However, he, along with Gus, are now further entrenched in the power struggle with Juan Bolsa. Bolsa decrees Salamanca territory will remain Salamanca territory for now, but this is a uneasy truce. Gus warns a war could be on the horizon, which could also bring the DEA. Just where Nacho will stand when the smoke settles is unclear.
However, the gut punch of the episode comes in the final scene between Howard, Kim and Jimmy. Howard lays himself bare, acknowledging he and Jimmy both know Chuck's death wasn't an accident, and confessing he pushed Chuck out of HHM when he wanted to wage war with the insurance company for raising their malpractice rates. "I think he did what did because of me," he cries. It's the most human we've ever seen Howard, who doesn't know it was Jimmy who told the insurance company of Chuck's condition. But surely Jimmy will meet Howard's vulnerability with genuine empathy and honesty, right? Naw.
"Well Howard, I guess that's your cross to bear," he replies without skipping a beat, before bouncing over to feed the fish and whistling while making a motherfuckin' cup of Joe. Maybe what Jimmy is actually feeling is not grief, guilt or anger, but freedom. Freedom not to be beholden to anyone or tame his vices simply because they share the same last name. Freedom to unapologetically be Slippin' Jimmy. After all, Chuck's sins were washed away in the end (though really it was more a baptism by fire. Sorry not sorry), so why not be as Machiavellian as you want? People only want to remember the good anyway--polite decorum almost demands it--no matter how obvious the bad was.
Jimmy may feel he has a new lease on life now. But in the not-so-distant future, Gene will be paying for the sins of Saul.
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