Pluribus Review – The audacity of the Breaking Bad creator’s new TV show is incredible | television

eDespite Vince Gilligan’s name being attached as creator, Pluribus – stylized as a stylish Plur1bus on screen, to evoke the unofficial US motto “E pluribus unum” (“Out of many, one”) – initially seems like a bit of light relief. A man who has spent the past two decades immersed in the apocalyptic world of Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, and El Camino, you think, probably deserves it.

Perhaps it goes back to the roots of The X-Files with this story about an alien virus sweeping across the globe, making everyone happy and content, literally uniting the minds (everyone’s thoughts, knowledge and memories are available to everyone – people no longer refer to themselves but as “this individual” when they speak) and just making them be nice to each other. Peace in our time! But what do we kids do about Carol (Rhea Seehorn)? She’s a middle-aged author, a best-selling romance fiction writer, fantastically rich, adored by hundreds of thousands of fans – and utterly miserable as only a misanthrope could be in such circumstances. Carol appears to be the only person in America immune to the virus. Hilarity should definitely ensue!

Hello. Gilligan still has social and cultural business to attend to. It might take some chutzpah to look at the world in 2025 — especially if you’re a non-U.S. citizen — and say to yourself, “Yes, but wouldn’t it be more terrible if… everyone agreed to this?” But that’s basically what Gilligan did. The execution may not be flawless – Pluribus is an often slow burn, and the brilliant Seehorn spins its wheels too often – but the audacity of the question is incredible.

For Carol, utopia is a nightmare, made worse by the fact that her wife Helen (Miriam Shor) did not survive the infection (one of millions worldwide, it is revealed – one of the downsides of bringing bliss to the rest). Everyone’s attention is drawn to Carol as the smiling hordes try to attend to her every need as they work – despite her desperate pleas for them to stop – trying to find a cure, so to speak, for her immunity and bring her into the contented fold. “We just want to help, Carol,” is an increasingly sinister phrase. “It’s not a foreign invasion,” the new president, who broadcasts television speeches designed just for her, assures her. “Damn it’s not like that!” She roars, as well as she can.

This is how the question of what is lost begins when everyone agrees. When there is only one mind, there is no difference, are we still human? Carol exploits the cell’s Prime Directive to cheer her up, demanding that she meet any other English-speaking people who are immune to the virus. She soon encounters six people who either enjoy life as a pampered rarity, or are eager to rejoin their families without any of the anger Carol feels at having their individuality internalized or their independent thought stripped away. It cannot make them understand the problem. Maybe it is one of her own creation? Wouldn’t it be better and easier, they say, to let it go? Some people can. Some people can’t. Carol is one of the last in the marrow.

Gilligan continues to add characters and plot sparingly, but keeps a host of big questions running: about the rights we think we have, those we think are inalienable but turn out to be anything but (the lack of escape becomes apparent as the series progresses), the moral duty we have to others, and much more. Carol’s angry outbursts create emotional overload in the hive mind and result in the deaths of around 10 million people at a time – but does this mean she must accept her fate?

Is there inherent evil in extremism? Even if it is the most seemingly benign form – everyone be happy! – leads to suffering for those who cannot or do not want to comply (not to mention its impact on the ability to make progress in civilization), so what can we do with all its other forms?

Pluribus also works brilliantly as an image of (particularly) middle-aged femininity and as a symbol of abusive relationships. Carol is urged to keep her emotions, especially her anger, in check, deny her instincts, reframe her experiences, and endlessly believe the best people—and believe they want the best for her—in the face of mounting evidence to the contrary. You speak and do not hear. She repeats herself and he doesn’t believe her. She screams and he asks her to behave better.

Pluribus has great lines and very funny moments, but that’s not the case. It’s almost as bleak as real life.