The Best New TV Shows & Movies This Week: 'Better Call Saul,' an 'Insecure' Preview, and More

Image via Complex

Where to Watch: HBO Now

In Part 4, we not only see Lindbergh presidential era locking itself into solidity, but we also see the Levins’ immediate connection to Lindbergh himself. It’s mainly through Evelyn and her engagement to Rabbi Bengelsdorf. They’re quickly climbing the social ladder despite the thickening atmosphere of Anti-Semitism in the nation. While they both try to uphold their Jewish identity, they also willingly overlook the severely problematic beliefs of their political and social counterparts. This comes to a peak when Evelyn, the rabbi, and First Lady Anne Lindbergh have tea together. The First Lady is pleasant enough and deftly waxes poetic about how she and her husband disapprove of Nazi officials. However, in the same breath, she invites them both to attend a state dinner welcoming German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop. For Evelyn, there is no question that this is an honor (especially consider how months ago she was seen as a spinster to her family and community). Evelyn goes so far to the First Lady that they invite her nephew Sandy, which we know will result in an explosive argument.

The dilemma that ensues is one of keeping one’s moral principles in a time of survival. The Levins are trying their damndest to not compromise on their Jewish identity in the midst of a rising fascist nation. But what happens when one of their own family members is slowly trying to bring them into “assimilation” under the false promise of social mobility? Sandy, fresh from his exchange program in Kentucky, is ecstatic about the opportunity to meet the president, a figure who he already admires. But inevitably, Herman and Bess are alarmed and angered at Evelyn for meddling with their family even further. 

In the series, we see trickles of fascism rather than an immediate wipeout of democracy. Alvin returns to Newark after being discharged from the Canadian Army. Prior to his return, he is questioned by FBI agents who tag him as a Communist. The agents then conspicuously follow his family members as Alvin tries to return to a normal life. They don’t make arrests or have formal interrogations – their tactics are sneakier and a method of planting fear and paranoia on an individual level. We’ll likely see them dealing with more intrusions in their personal lives as they try to adapt and survive in a dying democracy. —Andie Park

Where to Watch: AMC

I learned to stop trying to predict what would happen in shows a long time ago. Solving a mystery box show like Westworld, or even trying to ascertain the final fate of Walter White in Breaking Bad, never seemed like a compelling use of my time; I’d rather sit down and let the show just wash over me completely.

Yet, sometimes you can’t help yourself.

Every now and again, you get a general sense that an upcoming episode of a show has the DNA to be something special. A few factors had already aligned to make this week’s episode of Better Call Saul, “Bagman,” draw my attention. For one, this marked the first episode back for Breaking Bad creator Vince Gilligan since El Camino; regardless of whether or not you felt that story was necessary, Gilligan undeniably elevated his directorial talents with the project. Add in the increasing darkness around the show, a factor I keyed into last week, and the general plot behind this episode (Jimmy having to go and pick up Lalo’s $7 million bail money from the Cousins), and all the elements were there: “Bagman” was primed to be a capital “I” important episode.

And man, did it deliver. “Bagman” is a pantheon-level episode of the Breaking Bad universe, worthy of being mentioned alongside classics like “Fly,” "To'hajiilee,” “Gliding All Over,” and even “Ozymandias.” [Ed Note: Spoiler warning from here on out.]

What unfolds after Jimmy almost literally fumbles the bag is a two-hander between Mike (Jonathan Banks) and Jimmy (Bob Odenkirk) that feels like a spiritual successor to Breaking Bad’s “4 Days Out” by way of Lawrence of Arabia. (In fact, the Lawrence influence was so overt that Gilligan and co-creator Peter Gould actively considered renting the exact camera lens used to shoot the Peter O’Toole-led classic.) The thrilling desert shootout makes this episode feel the closest Better Call Saul has gotten to directly evoking the action and intensity of Breaking Bad, fitting as Jimmy’s full-friend-of-the-cartel status puts him in a far more dangerous position than if he’d continued to work at Davis and Main. Furthermore, Gilligan’s direction has always been at its most cinematic when he’s photographing the sweeping New Mexico desert landscapes—each and every frame an exquisite picture—making the overall look of the episode more expansive than the show’s typical courtroom set-locales. And, of course, those sequences conjure up feelings of Breaking Bad’s own desert-filled moments.

“Bagman” does more to further tie the two disparate halves of the show together by literally binding Mike and Jimmy together as they look to survive. Mike’s gruff nature is critical to survival, but his bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired. Jimmy’s overall buffoonery is a nuisance to Mike until he puts it to effective use. Jimmy’s space-blanket run, of course, is meant to evoke echoes of Chuck’s own space-blanket-clad moments.

As I sat enthralled through “Bagman,” I was reminded of Mad Men’s “The Suitcase” in the way it manages to show a deeper understanding of two characters we already have a rich history with. We know from Breaking Bad that Jimmy and Mike have a relationship and understanding between one another, and “Bagman” serves to further underscore not only that relationship but why they’re in the game to begin with. Walter White tried to fool others into thinking he was helping his family, but that’s truly the case with Mike—making his departure in Breaking Bad all the more tragic. Here we learn Jimmy, above all else, loves Kim (Rhea Seehorn), to the point where he’s willing to die for her.

Despite that love, Jimmy’s hubris has gotten him in too deep now. I was struck by the simple image of using water, a soon-to-be eventual lifeline, to clean the dirt off his shoes. The visual of trading life—in this case, the life of Jimmy McGill—to preserve the “image” of Saul Goodman, feels like Better Call Saul’s Macbeth moment. And, of course, it didn’t make a difference: Jimmy still ends up with blood all over his shirt after getting caught in the gunfight. He tries to plug the bullet holes in his Suzuki Esteem and his trusty coffee mug to no avail. No matter how hard Jimmy McGill tries, the spot will never be clean again. —William Goodman

Screened: Five episodes for review; Season 4 premieres on April 12 on HBO

Oftentimes when a series is playing the Big Picture game, a transition season is a necessary chess move. The characters and/or story can't progress too quickly, plus, in the interest of realism, it serves to show them struggling and wayward for a little—especially on a show like Insecure, where feeling your way in the dark of your late 20s is a main theme. It's necessary work but it doesn't always equate with a creative peak—hence why a majority liked but didn't love Season 3. But after an unusually long—19 months!—break between seasons, Insecure is back and, having put its characters through the motions towards betterment, once again firing on all cylinders. 

For three years, Insecure was synonymous with summer, and the marriage was perfect: of course, a show that depicts messy, real romantic relationships and incites a weekly battle of the sexes on Twitter would hit hardest while we're all acting up in the heat. But if sacrificing a summer 2019 return date was the price for helping Issa Rae, Prentice Penny and their writers come back refreshed then it was well worth it.

The premiere wastes no time, with an opening in media res set in the very near future that teases a huge, show-altering fallout. Then, like a murder mystery, the show rewinds to show how we got there. Things are as we left them a year-and-a-half ago: Issa is angling to make the biggest move of her career by throwing a local block party, the self-assured new friend mentoring her with it is, unbeknownst to either, dating her ex Lawrence and Molly is pursuing a new relationship while struggling to fit in at work. 

It's hard to pinpoint why this season feels like a return to the creative highs of Season 2 other than it doesn't feel like a rehash of Season 2. The characters are more mature (which begets different reactions and plot swerves), the problems are new and they aren't spinning in the listless circles Season 3 enabled. Plus, we get to watch one of the show's core relationships fracture in excruciating but intriguing slo-mo. The debates about who's at fault will be delicious. —Frazier Tharpe