TV Series: Pluribus - ep 1 & 2

Roll out the red carpet ! Mr Vince Gilligan is back and what a return this is!

Pluribus is the latest creative child of the mind behind Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul and what potential this series has.

We follow Carol, played by Rhea Seehorn, who fans will instantly recognise as the methodical, sharp, and quietly ruthless lawyer from Better Call Saul. Here, she plays a moderately successful novelist who writes fantasy-romance books that attract a loyal audience, mostly women at different stages of a life crisis. The twist? Carol hates her books. She calls them ‘mindless crap’

Seehorn has a real gift for playing characters with a controlled fury simmering just below the surface and she brings that here too. You can feel the tension even in her quieter moments, especially when her best friend and manager, Helen, tries to comfort or guide her.

Meanwhile, across the world, a lab experiment goes wrong when a mouse escapes, bites a scientist and infects her with something unexpected. The scientist briefly convulses, then smiles a genuine, serene smile. Soon, the virus spreads across the globe. But instead of turning people into mindless zombies, it turns them into happy, peaceful human beings.

When the infection finally reaches Carol, she turns out to be the only one immune. Because of that, the infected treat her like royalty. And here’s the hook (as the posters and trailers say) she might be the most miserable person in the world, forced to save humanity from happiness.

It’s a brilliant premise, one that allows the story to go in any direction. It’s grounded science fiction, part social satire, part noir. It’s pure Vince Gilligan.

In regards to visuals, if you’ve seen Breaking Bad or Better Call Saul, you’ll recognise his signature immediately: perfect framing, long, deliberate shots of people doing mundane things (walking, digging, construction work) and then those sudden, precise cuts that reveal a detail, move the story forward or tell you something about the characters without a single line of dialogue. The subtext, the hints, the visual storytelling, it’s all here.

The biggest difference this time is the genre. Pluribus is sci-fi rather than crime drama, but there are no spaceships, aliens, or laser beams. The people infected by the virus don’t even know why they’re infected. And yet, the world feels entirely believable because the writing sets its own rules and sticks to them.

Gilligan understands that with any sci-fi story, you have to build a world with clear boundaries and then play within them. Add to those rules later, sure, but do it carefully or you’ll lose your audience.

Here’s what we learn about this world: the virus makes everyone happy. It also links all infected minds, allowing them to share knowledge and memories instantly like a kind of distributed intelligence. A ten-year-old can perform heart surgery or fly a plane. Society becomes efficient and harmonious, but everyone knows everyone’s deepest secrets. The infected can’t hurt anything or anyone, and if an uninfected person like Carol yells at or lashes out at them, every infected person in the world experiences a simultaneous seizure.

That rule alone creates huge tension. When Carol inevitably loses her temper - as anyone in her situation would - the result is catastrophic. Planes crash, cars collide, people die. Against her nature, she has to suppress her anger or risk killing thousands if not more.

It’s a clever setup that creates both external and internal conflict.

The infected refer to themselves only as ‘us/we’. They’re efficient, eerily cooperative and unnervingly calm. They can summon helicopters, repair engines or save lives without hesitation. It’s fascinating and deeply unsettling.

By Episode 2, Carol learns she’s not the only uninfected person left. There are twelve others scattered across the globe. Unlike her, they’ve adjusted to this new reality. They still have family, though those loved ones are infected, which means they’ll never argue, disappoint or disobey. Their version of happiness feels almost appealing, at least for now.

That’s where Pluribus becomes something special. It isn’t just about infection or control. It’s about what happiness really means and whether humanity as we know it is even worth saving. What happens when a ‘better’ version of us emerges? What happens when Carol becomes the anomaly, the unhappy relic of an obsolete world?

In an earlier creepy scene, the infected believe they can ‘fix’ her within four months. They mean it kindly. They promise she’ll be able to join them. But what happens if she doesn’t want to? Will she be convinced to join them willingly over the 4 months or be forced to?

That’s what makes Pluribus such an exciting watch. It’s layered, unpredictable and bursting with ideas. Gilligan has built a world that could expand in countless directions, each one logical, haunting and thought-provoking.

This is shaping up to be the event series of the year and I’m all here for it !