3x03 Sunk Costs

[8.6/10] For a split-second, I believed him. I believed Chuck when he told the Assistant District Attorney handling Jimmy’s case that his brother has a good heart, that he would never actually hurt Chuck, and that maybe there is an easier way to end all of this unpleasantness. Perhaps, I thought, Jimmy’s speech to Chuck, uttered while sitting on the curb waiting for the cops to pick him up, had made an impression. Chuck could be remembering all that his brother’s done for him, believing that Jimmy means well, and wanting to avoid selling him down the river.

Then, Jimmy sees the deal the A.D.A. offers him. It is surprisingly light, one that would allow him to avoid jail time and, assuming he can maintain some good behavior, even keep it off his record. The catch, undoubtedly concocted by Chuck in the meeting with Ms. Hay, is that the deal is conditioned on Jimmy writing a letter of confession to the felony charge, that would lead to him losing his law license.

The truth becomes clear. Chuck does not care for Jimmy’s well-being. He is not flush with the memories of the times his brother has been there for him. He just wants Jimmy out of the legal profession. Chuck still sees it as an insult, a joke, that his screw-up brother can, let alone would, be able to call himself the same thing as Chuck. That has always been the grandest affront to the elder McGill brother -- that Slippin’ Jimmy is allowed to be an officer of the court, and he aims to put a stop to it. He does not care about anything else in this, let alone his brother.

But Kim Wexler does. There is an inherent tragedy to even the kindest, sweetest scenes between her and Jimmy. We know that she is not around, or at least unseen, by the time Saul Goodman pops up on Breaking Bad, which makes every time Jimmy tries her patience or brushes her aside come off like a stepping stone to the seemingly inevitable dissolution of their partnership, personally and professionally. For the time being though, Kim is Jimmy’s best ally, the one who, unlike Chuck, truly believes that he can be good.

The episode shows that off in its name, “Sunk Costs,” a reference to Kim’s notion that she has invested too much time in Jimmy to give up on him now, but it also shows it off in its visuals. While the acting and writing are top notch every week on Better Call Saul, what sets the series apart from its peers is how much it uses its cinematography and other visual tools to tells it story on top of that. Even if it were not clear from the superb performances of Rhea Seehorn and Bob Odenkirk in their characters’ responses to this news, Jimmy and Kim, framed by the glass-decked front of their office, turned to silhouettes bathed in light, holding hands, tells the audience everything its needs to know about how it’s the two of them against the world.

The same aesthetic acuity is on display in Mike’s half of the episode. Prior to any of the fireworks of “Sunk Costs” -- either the aftermath of the phonecall that teased us in the prior episode or the incident between Chuck and Jimmy -- we see a perfectly-orchestrated little scene of a Los Pollos Hermanos truck rambling through the New Mexico desert. Flanked by sharp yellow and saturated blues of the arid landscape, the shots of an old pair of sneakers, hanging on a wire, falling to the earth below, set the stage, both for the episode’s visuals, and for the trap set at end.
That trap is the natural outgrowth of what is, as far as we know, the first ever meeting of Mike Ehrmantraut and Gus Fring. This is a momentous occasion, one that lacks any particularly grand declarations or big arguments, but shows the pair of reserved but perceptive men sizing one another up and finding each other worthy, or at least potentially useful to one another.

That’s communicated in how well each is able to perceive what the other is after. Gus has the advantage of his goons, but he’s done his homework. He knows Mike’s name. He knows what Mike’s done. And most importantly, he’s able to figure out why Mike is still at it, even after taking Hector Salamanca’s money, even after knocking over one of his trucks, even after it would seem the threat against his family has been settled.

Mike, for his part, shows that his intelligence does not just extend to piecing together how he’s being tracked, but to his ability to quickly understand the lay of the land. Fring, he reasons, is fine with Mike messing up Hector’s trucks because he’s the competition, and like that, he’s managed to peel back one of Gus’s protective layers and the veneer of respectability and mystery he keeps up to preserve himself in this business. The two men stand face to face in that desert, realizing that while they stand in different positions, their minds work in similar ways. That generates a quick mutual respect that lays the groundwork both for the working relationship we see in Breaking Bad and for the escapade that immediately ensues.

After the meeting, Mike shows off his wit and creativity once again, using the stretch of highway the viewers witnessed in the cold open to thwart Hector once again. “Sunk Costs” takes the time to show Mike being careful and deliberate -- whiffing on his first few throws of the new sneakers (a sharp contrast to Walt’s pizza-throwing adventure), and shooting his gun in the air to assure Hector’s goons that there’s just a hunter out there. When all is settled, he aims true, and dusts the same ice cream truck we saw back in [[Episode]] with enough suspicious white powder to tip off the Border Patrol's guard dogs and strike another blow against Hector. It’s an instance of two individuals’ aligned interests, and shared philosophies, coming together nigh-perfectly.

The same cannot be said for Jimmy and Chuck McGill. As Jimmy sits on the sidewalk in front of Chuck’s house, smoking a cigarette from when his car’s doors were all the same color, the depth of his hurt, of his anger, of his sense of betrayal is palpable. In a curt but devastating monologue he tells his brother one of the harshest things one family member can tell another -- that when you’re hurt, when you need help, when you’re dying -- I won’t be there.

And yet, Chuck declares that he is trying to help his brother, and as much as I look askance on his methods and his intentions and his perspective, in a way, I believe he really means it. I believe Chuck’s reasons are selfish and self-aggrandizing, that keeping Jimmy out of his domain is his main objective, whether he realizes it or not. But I also believe that Chuck really thinks it will be better for Jimmy if he’s not a lawyer, that it will help keep him out of trouble, that he’ll be happier and maybe even better.

That catch is that it’s a view that comes from a place of condescension, from a notion that everyone has a place in this world, and that Jimmy’s is under the bootheel of smarter, better folks like Chuck. To that end, Chuck can justify his actions because he’s simply putting everything back in the proper order -- him the successful lawyer, his brother the decent enough guy who does well enough to get by -- without allowing Jimmy to supersede him based on the charm and craftiness that’s sustained him thus far.

Despite a certain duplicitousness from Chuck, he genuinely believes, in his own way, that he’s doing what’s best for his brother, that is actions are a sign of caring. The problem is that they’re also reflective of a worldview, one that says he is meant to be on top and Jimmy is meant to be on bottom. Chuck may never admit that to himself, he may also cloak his prejudices in the guise of justness and righteousness, but his form of caring, his “tough love,” is the harsh, patronizing act of a man who thinks himself superior, ready to snuff out anything that would challenge that, by any means necessary.