With the first season of Pluribus ending in December and the second seemingly a long way off, we decided to reflect on all nine episodes and how they fit into the contemporary streaming landscape.
Back to square one
Where did we leave Carol Sturka, bestselling fantasy romance novelist grappling with an alien invasion? Among the twelve individuals worldwide who did not fall victim to the mutation that created a sort of collective consciousness for the rest of humanity, the protagonist is still coming to terms with the disappearance of her manager/partner.
At the same time, unlike the other “immune” individuals who have decided to exploit the situation to their advantage, she still does not accept this new extraterrestrial society, in which individuals have unlimited knowledge but are deprived of their previous identities. Despite everything, Carol is determined to find a way to reverse the process, even if it means bringing back into the world the suffering, injustices, and all the imperfections that have characterized typical human existence since the dawn of time.
A genuinely original science fiction series, it mixes elements of The Twilight Zone (1959-1964) and Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) with various and assorted remakes, interpreted through Gilligan’s authorial sensibility and a comedy-drama approach with tragicomic twists. What more could you ask for? The series has continued along the path set out in the very first episodes, further developing the protagonist’s search for a possible “cure,” but also marking a potential change of direction after a key event that threatened to throw everything back into question.
Look who’s talking
The dialogue, whether direct through the figure of the “consultant” Zosia or remote following the trauma that temporarily separated Carol from the rest of that new world, offers unlimited possibilities on paper, since any request made by the writer is granted by those who seek to please her at all costs, in the hope that she will eventually agree to be assimilated herself.
Carol is an unpleasant character, who requires the audience to empathize with her in a problematic way: selfish, bitter, incapable of healthy relationships, closed off in a narcissism that often makes her incapable of genuine empathy towards others. In her defense, it must be said that it is very difficult to feel emotions towards someone who no longer shows any emotions, and so Rhea Seehorn‘s nuanced performance manages to win her, if not the sympathy, at least the understanding of the viewer, who is called upon to ask themselves how they would behave in such paradoxical circumstances.
The script raises profound philosophical questions about the meaning of happiness, the importance of free will, the sense of individuality, and the danger/resource represented by artificial intelligence, without ever providing ready-made answers, deliberately leaving it up to the viewer to interpret the implications of the allegory.
Expectations and results already in place
In the season finale, the prominent appearance of a character who had previously only been hinted at sparks further speculation about the future of the story, with that epilogue—already hinted at—promising a literally explosive second season. But in the meantime, there is no shortage of surprises, from John Cena playing himself as a “slave” who appears on television, as a recognizable and marketable face to those who have not yet accepted the transformation, to frightening discoveries that point to conspiratorial tensions, only to be motivated by a logic as cold as it is impeccable for those who are now deprived of feelings.
The big picture emerges from the illuminated cities that suddenly go dark in unison, viewed from that house on the hill that has become a sort of hermitage where one can witness, alone or not, the apocalypse of our times, where the hive community has very specific plans and any attempt to resist seems, ironically, pure science fiction. Some may complain about a partial lack of action, but certain scenes alone are worth the price of an Apple TV+ subscription: from empty supermarkets that are restocked in the blink of an eye to bags of rubbish taken away by drone, Pluribus has no shortage of imagination and the desire to put it into practice, challenging genre conventions and creating a unique hybrid, where the body snatchers smile at you and ask nothing more than for you to join them, apparently with good intentions.
After watching the nine episodes and completing the first season of Pluribus, the audience can only wait anxiously for what is to come, with that ending—apparently suggested by the producers—that opens up interesting possibilities for the second season. Science fiction and comedy, with a dash of drama here and there in the over-the-top characterization of a protagonist who was already an eccentric and aloof figure well before the appearance of the assimilating alien collective. Vince Gilligan and a magnificent Rhea Seehorn bring to life a story of excess, where being outside the box takes on extra meaning, and the very personal odyssey of a writer in search of herself, grappling with a humanity that has lost its individuality, becomes a catalyst for metaphors and reflections on the complicated times we are living in, in a reality even more disturbing than fiction.
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