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Vince Gilligan’s Pluribus has been a remarkable gem of this past television season, a show that shines with the utmost passion, creativity, and craftsmanship. Though only in its first season, the show’s success is built on a concrete concept, masterful technical execution, heartening and complex characters, topped with brilliant direction. It is more than deserving of its eighteen Emmy nominations and, by virtue of its all-round achievement, deserves serious consideration for Outstanding Drama Series. The show’s emotions are fiercely human, taking its viewers on a pilgrimage from the deepest hurt, through fragile longings, to the most defiant resilience. Gilligan has created a beautiful ode to the individual, one that reminds us of the unique beauty of each of our lives.
Now, let’s take it back to the beginning, shall we?
What’s new in Vince Gilligan’s Albuquerque? Well… Say there is a virus that brings the world peace, love, and happiness, with everybody reunited into one collective consciousness, happy and fulfilled forever and ever and ever and ever… Everyone, everywhere, except — for you… After two decades in the Breaking Bad (2008-2013) and Better Call Saul (2015-2022) universe, he is back with another Albuquerque chef-d’œuvre: the gleeful post-apocalyptic sci-fi that is Pluribus.
Our main character, Carol Sturka (Rhea Seehorn), a best-selling fantasy romance writer, is one of the few people who are immune to this alien virus. Our first impression of her is that she can’t stay smiling for more than a few moments before finding something to be upset about. How convenient in this happy apocalypse. Her wife, Helen (Miriam Shor), teases her about her misery despite their successful life on their way home from the book tour. But on that very same day, the virus breaks its way out of the lab and spreads across the globe. The infected abruptly seize up for several minutes before awakening as part of a collective consciousness. This process is as appalling as its result: chaos rules the moment people freeze, and innumerable lives are lost, including Helen’s. Suddenly, Carol is left alone in unbearable pain over the loss of her wife and the collapse of the world as she knows it.
To the hive mind, Carol needs help; to them, her agony is an unfortunate attribute of the unturned human existence. Because who wouldn’t want their endless bliss? So they try their best to accommodate her every need (which doesn’t always help the situation, considering Carol’s emotional state) and ultimately find a way to turn her so she can be just as at peace. The game is unfair, though. With the collective memories of every infected human, including Helen’s, they read her like an open book. So they decide to send the charming Zosia (Karolina Wydra), aka someone the hive mind thinks she’ll like, to be her chaperone.
Despite Carol’s resentment towards the others, curiosity and fatigue still drive her to communicate with Zosia — or "them." She learns about their joining and the handful of remaining who are immune in the world. Of course, our heroine does what every heroine does: she decides to save the world with the other survivors, just like in the movies. Well, if only it were that easy. The other survivors each have their own independent opinions about the newfound peaceful world that don’t always match hers. On top of all this, the hive mind continues to try to convince Carol of the perfect world they offer. As her exhaustion rises, our heroine finds herself deeper and deeper beneath the drowning weight of loneliness, grief, and hurt from reliving past traumas.
Once again, Vince Gilligan has created a show that truly excels on all fronts. The concept is genuinely funny, the execution is absolutely remarkable, and the emotions are gut-wrenchingly human. Each character has a distinct, complex identity. Other survivors, like Mr. Diabaté (Samba Schutte), choose to spend this opportunity bathing in luxury and female company. Then there’s Manusos Oviedo (Carlos-Manuel Vesga), who, without spoiling too much, is the ultimate anti-hive mind, a character who carries the most cinematic odyssey of the series that celebrates this beautiful world we live in.
Together with our female lead, the sheer loneliness they live through is utterly heartbreaking. Carol is left without the only love of her life, now an outcast to both the hive mind and her fellow survivors, the world crashing down on her. She can barely hold on, and still, she cannot afford to break down for the longest time. Solitude and isolation slowly tear her courage and beliefs apart. She is hurt over and over again, reliving the wounds and scars that shaped her self-loathing…
This is a role that pushes human vulnerability and resilience to their limits. To Vince Gilligan, there was only ever one choice for Carol. He had written the series specifically for Rhea Seehorn after their collaboration on Better Call Saul, and my god, did she deliver. Her extraordinary performance ran through every crevice and every breath of the character. Moments when we empathize with her pain and conflicted mind without a single word. One look of devastation captures her haunted desire, futile longing, and inconceivable grief, making this one of my favorite performances of last year and earning her a long-awaited Golden Globe — and now an Emmy nomination.
Her co-star, Karolina Wydra, also delivers a remarkably graceful portrayal of Zosia, who is, in other words, the ambassador of the entire world, meaning she has to be an expert at everything. The hive mind is not exactly a likable character, but she has to be exceptionally charming and alluring. A role both technically and emotionally difficult to balance, which she portrayed with seeming ease. On top of that, both actresses have such intoxicating chemistry, thus gifting us one of my favorite on-screen pairings in recent years.
Behind the lenses, the masterful team of the Albuquerque universe ensures everything matches the scale of the story. With Marshall Adams and Paul Donachie as Directors of Photography, visually, with the recent trend of faded colors, the show is a breath of fresh air with its clever saturation, and with shots that are always tastefully intentional, hinting, and poetic. Led by production designer Denise Pizzini, every décor is filled with detail and is always wonderfully chic (I, too, yearn for Carol’s house). The sound and music play the strings of the audience’s emotions. The noises and melodies fill the loneliness and the silence that frames Carol’s at times devastating choices. Alongside the choreography, editing, and so many others, Pluribus marks a level of craftsmanship more than worthy of its recent eighteen Emmy nominations.
You see, this show requires you to hold many ambiguous ideas at the same time. To see through both Zosia’s love and their manipulation, to be able to understand Carol’s grief but also the pressure she is under, her longing for human connection and touch. Is the hive mind’s altruism a genetic design, or just an act of manipulation? The show’s name, Pluribus, from E pluribus unum ("Out of many, one"), is a traditional motto of the United States. With the number 1 replacing the title design, the show heavily deals with individuality. And still, there remains an infinite free space for its audience to interpret. You may look at it as a take on AI, with Zosia holding nearly all human information. Or perhaps it is about grief, about feeling estranged from the joyous world.
Personally, I have become absolutely addicted to the show since it aired. My favorite scenes lie in moments that unveil the beauty of individuality and the natural human differences that make you — you. Habits, likes, dislikes… The little things, such as how we each make our own breakfast, or tell someone a story about ourselves that no one has ever heard before. We can all love a book, but that love is independent for each person; it can be similar but never the same. Some might crochet a hat, and others might write fan theories. Things that exist only because of you, never before and never again.
"The world is big." The quirks and flaws of the individual that clash with one another are what make the collective vibrant. A love letter to the unique. The unuttered thoughts, the embarrassed longings, or the hints of fancy that are yours alone, belonging solely to your existence if unsaid. This is what makes your human experience yours. So how woeful must it be, under the hive mind’s new regime, unless the fellow survivors choose otherwise, there will be no new book written, no new song composed, no new poetry read… They claim to love all equally and feel no other “negative” emotions. But this also means they will never truly, fully feel love.
The ecstasy, the fear, the shame, the envy, the melancholy, the passion, the longing, the disgrace, the ache, the contentment, the need…
The endless need.
What a life it is, to be able to feel all the sweet and sour like a firework in the blink of an eye.
Then there’s love…
What a fortune it is to feel love, and the pain that only love can bring.
Pluribus is streaming on Apple TV.
The final-round voting will end on August 26th at 10 p.m. The Creative Arts Emmy Awards will take place on September 5th and 6th, followed by the Primetime telecast on September 14th at 8 p.m. ET / 5 p.m. PT.
Photo: Apple TV
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