Imagine a world where happiness is forced upon you, and the right to be unhappy is stripped away. Sounds dystopian? Well, that’s the bold premise of Vince Gilligan’s new sci-fi series, Pluribus, premiering Friday on Apple TV+. The mastermind behind Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul has returned to his roots in speculative fiction, but this time, he’s tackling something far more unsettling: the human right to discontent. But here’s where it gets controversial—is a world without unhappiness truly utopian, or just another form of oppression? Let’s dive in.
Rhea Seehorn, the brilliant actress who brought Kim Wexler to life in Better Call Saul, stars as Carol Sturka, a wealthy yet deeply unsatisfied author of historical romance novels. She despises her own work, calling it ‘mindless crap,’ yet it’s made her rich. Carol shares a personal and professional relationship with Helen (Miriam Shor), her manager and partner, and they live in Albuquerque—yes, the same city as Breaking Bad and Saul, but don’t expect any crossovers here. And this is the part most people miss—Carol’s dissatisfaction isn’t just a character quirk; it’s the key to the entire series.
The plot kicks into gear when a mysterious signal from space is translated into an RNA sequence, synthesized in a lab, and unleashed upon the world. This virus-like entity spreads like wildfire, turning humanity into a hive mind—think Star Trek’s Borg or the pod people from Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The infected become compulsively helpful, eerily cheerful, and disturbingly bland, like cult members inviting you to ‘join the party.’ The title Pluribus itself is a nod to the Latin phrase ‘e pluribus unum’ (‘out of many, one’), but Gilligan flips the script: here, unity comes at the cost of individuality.
What’s truly chilling is how this hive mind erases conflict—no more crime, no more war, even zoos are abolished as animals are set free. Sounds ideal, right? Wrong. Here’s the kicker—this ‘perfect’ world feels eerily lifeless, devoid of passion, creativity, and, yes, even fun. Gilligan seems to argue that imperfection, messiness, and discontent are what make us human. But is he right? Or is he romanticizing chaos? That’s for you to decide.
Carol, however, is immune to the virus, along with a handful of others. She becomes the series’ anchor, a ‘complicated person in a one-speed society,’ as she navigates this new world with confusion, anger, and determination. Her interactions with Zosia (Karolina Wydra), a representative of the hive sent to ‘help’ her, are particularly compelling. Zosia has a face, a voice, and a personality, making her a distinct character—a person—despite being part of the collective. This raises another thought-provoking question: Can individuality exist within unity, or are the two inherently at odds?
One refreshing aspect of Pluribus is its focus on older characters. Seehorn (53), Wydra (44), and Carlos Manuel Vesga (49) take center stage, a rare move in an industry obsessed with youth. Even Samba Schutte, who plays the hedonistic Mr. Diabaté, is the ‘young’ one at 42. But here’s the twist—this isn’t just a creative choice; it’s a statement. Gilligan seems to be saying that wisdom, complexity, and depth come with age, and it’s about time we celebrated that.
The series moves at a deliberate pace, with long stretches of silence and minimal dialogue. It’s a slow burn, but never boring. Seehorn carries the show with a mesmerizing performance, showcasing Carol’s range of emotions as she rebels against this sea of contentment. She drinks, watches The Golden Girls, drives a borrowed police car (since there’s no police), and even sings R.E.M.’s ‘It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).’ Her attempts to restore ‘normalcy’ are both hilarious and heartbreaking, making Pluribus a comedy at its core—but one with sharp, existential edges.
Gilligan has crafted a tightly wound plot, complete with rules about what the hive can and can’t do, and what Carol is capable of. The first season (nine episodes, with seven available for review) sets the stage, and a second season is already ordered. But where is it all heading? Carol ominously notes, ‘We’ve all seen this movie, and we know it doesn’t end well.’ Yet, her very presence suggests it just might.
Now, here’s the question for you—would you trade your right to be unhappy for a world without conflict? Is individuality worth the chaos it brings? Let us know in the comments. Pluribus doesn’t provide easy answers, but it sure knows how to start a conversation.
