Defying conventions at every turn—not just for fun, but to exemplify its central thesis—the latest New Mexico-set drama from the creator of "Breaking Bad" and "Better Call Saul" may be intermittently satisfying scene by scene, but it wrangles its numerous ambitious ideas into a potent season with enormous potential.
This review cannot tell you what happens in "Pluribus." Not the plot twists, of course, but not even the basic premise. Apple's list of restrictions is so extensive that answering the most common question from prospective viewers—"What is the show about?"—is practically impossible.
Creator: Vince Gilligan
Stars: Rhea Seehorn, Karolina Wydra, Carlos-Manuel Vesga
While this isn't uncommon these days—many episodes sent to critics come with episode-by-episode spoiler lists, or non-disclosure agreements that require us to watch a Spider-Man cartoon "out of sight or earshot of anyone else"—the increasing control exerted by distributors is ultimately just another method of keeping everyone on message. If critics can't describe the show in their own words, they'll have to use the words provided by press releases, trailers, and other PR materials. The less that can be said, the more likely it is that the same things will be said, leading us from commercialism to conformity before reviews are reduced to a Rotten Tomatoes score.
The restrictions placed on "Pluribus" are striking precisely because they are the only facet of the show that feels incongruous with its themes: themes that celebrate individuality and reject subservience; themes that argue that what makes us different is what makes us human, and what makes us human is what makes life worthwhile; themes about the effort required to do the right thing, while also acknowledging that being right isn't the only thing that matters.
So, while I can't tell you what happens in "Pluribus," I can tell you (I think) that "Pluribus" longs to be heard. Every aspect of Vince Gilligan's massively strange and strangely ambitious sci-fi series is designed to pinpoint the essence of humanity and highlight what makes it so vital, flaws and all. Yes, that also means that many perceived flaws could easily be considered virtues, which is quite disorienting when trying to understand what's frustrating about a series that's easy to admire, impossible to define, and worthy of love, even if arriving at that conclusion feels a little odd.
The first seven episodes of "Pluribus" remind me quite a bit of the early seasons of Gilligan's last two series, "Breaking Bad" and "Better Call Saul." (Perhaps those ring a bell?) Before the former became a modern classic, its debut was considered a bit slow and somewhat dark. It had the right elements, but it didn't really take off until the second season. "Better Call Saul," as a prequel to a cult series, received more leniency in early reactions. While skepticism about Saul Goodman (Bob Odenkirk) as a protagonist quickly dissipated, what made me hesitant to join Jimmy on his lonely journey to Omaha, Nebraska, was how incredibly bleak it seemed. Saul wasn't too silly to star in the drama; his character arc was simply too sad.
As a great man once said, structure is everything, and the structure of "Breaking Bad" and "Better Call Saul" was impeccable, allowing Gilligan and company to develop the rest of their compelling character studies into some of the best dramas television has ever seen.
Obviously, I can't say that "Pluribus" is destined for similar status. The bar is too high, it's too early to judge, and not all ideas (even from the same brilliant mind) have the same potential. The first season has its flaws, primarily regarding pacing. Instead of enticing viewers to keep watching, the cliffhangers can inadvertently highlight the inaction of the preceding hour. Similarly, Gilligan's devotion to the process—observing the meticulous methodology required to perform a mundane task, whether it's forging documents or making phone calls—sometimes gets out of hand and disrupts the pacing, which is already unstable due to the lack of overall structure in our protagonist's journey.
A protagonist, you say? Yes, "Pluribus" stars Carol Sturva (Rhea Seehorn), the first and foremost example of the series' many strengths. A successful author of fantasy romance novels who hates her own books and a cynical introvert who nevertheless knows how to captivate an audience, Carol's life is changed forever with the snap of a finger.
“Pluribus” shines brightest when it doesn't need excessive explanation. The specifics of Carol's unprecedented situation are explored in detail, but some aspects of the world-building can feel a bit superficial. Combined with a rather diffuse plot, it might be easier to explain what “Pluribus” isn't than what it is. It doesn't present itself as classic science fiction, but it frequently uses science to explain its fiction, often with wildly imaginative results. It's not your typical bleak and pessimistic post-apocalyptic drama, but it is a series set after a kind of apocalypse and brimming with existential angst. It's not a fast-paced thriller, but it is exciting and moves at its own deliberate pace. It's not an antihero series, but its protagonist is flawed, unpredictable, and unique.
In a few weeks, it will be easier to talk about “Pluribus.” Until then, I highly recommend paying attention to the feelings it evokes. The strangeness is key, and it's worth savoring.
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