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Dev F

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  1. So I didn't realize until I started googling the character names, but I think the character of Pete Strickland is based on another Erle Stanley Gardner character: Pete Wennick. That Pete seems like a pretty close match for our Pete -- a morally flexible ladies' man of an investigator for an attorney named, yep, E. B. Jonathan. I wonder why they changed the last name. It doesn't seem to be because they didn't have rights to the character, since they used E. B. Jonathan's name and he's from the same series of stories. It does look like there may only be one living person named Peter Wennick, so it's possible they had to go with a different name to avoid a potential lawsuit from that guy.
  2. I think the episode implies that the witness was pressured into implicating Matthew only after they'd already assembled a case against him: "Mr. Kitt originally told the police he 'saw a man.' Turned into 'saw Matthew' third time they leaned on him." They did have a few other pieces of seemingly incriminating evidence -- Matthew's debts, his secret parentage, and a patrolman who supposedly falsified his original alibi. But it still seems weird that they would've brought him in to ambush him with mostly circumstantial evidence related to his possible motive, and then just happened to acquire the especially damning physical evidence, processed it at lightning speed, and developed a coherent picture of the criminal conspiracy while he was en route to the station.
  3. I caught up on the series this weekend, so I didn't have the chance to ask this earlier: Am I crazy, or were Paul Drake's introductory scenes presented out of chronological order? First we get the scene in which the cops pop in on the Dodsons at the Radiant Assembly church and ask them to come to the station to look at a line-up. Then a few scenes later is Paul Drake's introduction, in which he discovers the bodies of the kidnappers and Matthew Dodson's suitcase. Then we cut to the Dodsons at the station, and the suggestion is that the police have lured them there with false talk about a line-up when really the point was to confront them with the suitcase that supposedly proves Matthew's guilt. But unless the scenes are out of order, the police didn't know about the suitcase until after they lured the Dodsons down to the station, so how could that have been the plan all along? The only other explanation, it seems to me, is that the police were originally bringing the Dodsons in to actually look at a line-up, like they said -- but then Drake called in the new evidence, the police immediately processed it and confirmed that it was Matthew's suitcase while the Dodsons were en route to the station, and got all their ducks in a row in time to confront Matthew with it when he got there. That seems like a whole lot of stuff to happen all in a huge rush, so I think "The Paul Drake scenes actually took place earlier in the day than presented" actually makes more sense. Or am I missing something here?
  4. EB says something to Barnes along the lines of "We all had rough times before the war," and later he's looking for client files from the 1910s, so I assume the money troubles and accompanying embezzlement were from before Della's time. To me this episode felt like a significant step up for the series. It's still not knocking my socks off, but intrigue is getting a little punchier -- I loved the various shenanigans with poor Gannon's body -- the various interpersonal dynamics are getting a little richer, and some of them are even starting to be about something, like the differing ways Della, Sister Alice, and her mother try to find footholds of power in a man's world. Still some clunky plotting, though, like the idea that the fourth man must belong to the Elk's lodge, because how else could he escape through the building Perry and Pete wandered into with no problem whatsoever?
  5. To be fair to the creepy, violent goons, Perry wasn't just trying to get paid for the job he was hired to do. They tasked him with finding embarrassing photos of Chubby Carmichael so they could void his contract, and he happened to find photos of Chubby in a compromising position with an up-and-coming star whom they didn't want to embarrass, so he threatened to release them publicly if they didn't triple his fee. Also, am I the only one who kind of hates the name Chubby Carmichael? I dunno, it's just so obviously a pale imitation of the name Fatty Arbuckle -- alliteration or no, you wouldn't nickname a jolly fat comic "Chubby" if the better nickname "Fatty" weren't already taken.
  6. If you're saying that because she's only credited for one episode on IMDb, I think that's just because the credits are still incomplete. Even some of the guest stars in this episode aren't listed yet -- for instance, Boardwalk Empire's Gretchen Mol, who's in the end credits for her voice on the phone as Perry's ex-wife and presumably will show up in the flesh in future episodes, but she's not yet on IMDb for the series at all.
  7. The fat comic is obviously based on Fatty Arbuckle, but Mason mentions that his name is Chubby Carmichael. Chubby seems to be a version of Arbuckle who didn't get blacklisted at the height of his fame in the 1920s but instead hung around into the '30s until audience got sick of him and the studios were itching for an excuse to cut him loose. According to the closed captions, the Groucho-looking guy is Mr. Hammersmith, the head of Hammersmith Pictures that Mason's studio contact said he had to consult with when Mason demanded more money. I don't know if Hammersmith is supposed to represent a particular studio head of the era; he looks sort of like a cross between Carl Laemmle Sr. of Universal Pictures and Jack Warner of Warner Bros. But maybe someone who knows more about the era can discern clearer parallels. In any event, it's clearly a heavily fictionalized version of Depression-era Hollywood, with different stars, executives, and such that don't correspond one-to-one to anything in the real world. That's Jefferson Mays. He's mostly a stage actor, I think, but I know him from a memorable turn as Walter Taffet in several episodes of Matthew Rhys's previous series The Americans. And he starred in another classy 1930s period piece: as "Daddy" in the excessively homoerotic musical Daddy's Boy, as seen at the end of a first-season episode of The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.
  8. To me it seemed like the point was in the contrast -- for us to wonder how you get to famous defense attorney Perry Mason from this sadsack PI who thinks "everybody's guilty." I'm assuming this is going to be his origin story: he'll probably end up implicating an innocent person in the Angels Flight murder, then regret it and scramble to set things right, and in trying to prove someone not guilty for the first time he'll also learn how to forgive himself and become a better man. He was the cop who tangled with Mason in the Angels Flight apartment, right?
  9. Agreed. Especially since the whole reason why Lalo brought Nacho down to Chihuahua was because he thought he was someone he could trust. He wouldn't have vouched for him with Don Eladio, let along brought him into his own home to wander around freely among the people he cares about, if he thought he might stab him in the back.
  10. The whole point of a cell phone is that it automatically connects to whatever compatible transmission tower is in the area, right? Nacho's phone wouldn't know the difference between him entering an area that has cell coverage and the commandos bringing a pirate transmitter online in an area that doesn't.
  11. Yep. More specifically, they'd have a duress code they could use to convey that they're being forced to say the mission succeeded when it didn't. The handler would congratulate the commando and tell him to return to base or whatever, and Lalo would have no way of knowing the commando had passed along a fail code.
  12. It wasn't a full about-face, though, because getting revenge on Howard is just half of the equation. The other half is wanting a big enough payout to realize her dream of starting a top-notch pro bono firm, which was sparked by her visit to the public defender's records room and realizing the sheer scale of the problem she's trying to find a feel-good way to personally solve. And in that way it represents a further point on the path we saw her on earlier in the season with Kevin, where she's gotten increasingly comfortable with the idea of effing over the self-righteous authority figure to support the little guy he's supposedly keeping down. So the basic character logic made sense to me, but the way the particulars suddenly came together struck me as a little clunky. No one has said a word about Sandpiper in two years, but all of a sudden Kim jumps on it as the way to fund her pro bono dream? I think it would've worked better if, say, Howard had explicitly been trying to hire Jimmy to help him ratchet up the Sandpiper deal -- that is, if the writers had laid some groundwork for Kim thinking of Sandpiper as the antithesis of the kind of law she wants to practice.
  13. It might not be AMC's call to make. The show is produced by Sony Pictures; AMC just licenses the broadcasting rights. Their license might only allow them to stream the episodes for a certain amount of time, so that Sony can then make more money off people who have to buy the episodes on iTunes and whatnot. Indeed, if you look at The Walking Dead, a show AMC produces in house, you'll see that the entire current season is available to stream, so it seems likely that they would do the same with Better Call Saul if they could.
  14. We're actually still four years out from Breaking Bad, based on when Jimmy's PPD ended: But you're right that Skinny Pete mentions it's been "like a year" since he and Tuco were together on the inside, so the dates don't line up yet. Maybe Tuco will get his sentence extended again, or maybe he'll get out and some of the other characters will have to conspire to get him imprisoned again for another couple years. I'm not sure the writers had some big plan in mind, though. I suspect the point was just to establish that Lalo sees Tuco's release as the long-term solution to the Salamancas' Albuquerque problem, which is why he was initially OK about heading back to Mexico. And it probably wouldn't make sense if he were like, "Everything will be fine as soon as Tuco gets out of prison three years from now," so they had to establish that he's currently expected out long before that.
  15. True, but I assumed Mike removing the license plate was shorthand for a more elaborate sequence of anonymization precautions, including wiping down any fingerprints and stripping off the VIN, that presumably took place off screen.
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