Better Call Saul, season 3
I’m ready to call it: Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould’s prequel to “Breaking Bad” is a better show than its predecessor. True, the saga of Walter White is the more adrenaline-pumping, binge-ready masterpiece. But “Breaking Bad” is like a really finely crafted beer that you keep pounding back. “Saul” is a fine wine that you savor and enjoy every note of.
We only just recently got cable television back after a three-year break, so I came to this season late, but ended up watching all 10 episodes in just over a week. The story of how former can artist-turned-lawyer Jimmy McGill (Bob Odenkirk) because Heisenberg’s shady attorney continues to be one of the more complex and riveting character studies on television. Odenkirk, displaying acting chops I never knew he had, is sublime as a man trying to go straight in the face of a world that wants him to go crooked. Rhea Seehorn, as his girlfriend Kim, is the one consistent, supportive force for good in his life. And Michael McKean, as Chuck’s self-righteous prick of a brother, delivers one of the most nuanced performances I’ve seen anywhere this year; I’ve never wanted to hate a guy and give him a hug at the same time. And for those who prefer a bit of “Breaking Bad” action, Jonathan Banks continues to shine as Mike, the ex-cop turned jack-of-all-trades who finds himself aligned with a very suspicious chicken-shop owner this season.