When I started the first two episodes of Vince Gilligan’s new Apple TV+ series, Pluribus, I felt a familiar mix of excitement and apprehension. Gilligan’s pedigree — from The X-Files to Breaking Bad — promised intelligent genre storytelling, but I worried the show might favor concept over character and slip into the common sci‑fi pitfall of skimming emotional depth in service of plot mechanics.
Reassuringly, Pluribus avoids that trap. Gilligan marries the investigative curiosity of The X‑Files with the intimate, morally nuanced character work that made Breaking Bad so compelling, producing a story that feels recognizably his without rehashing old beats.
Editor’s note: significant spoilers for Pluribus episodes 1–2 follow.
The series wastes no time. Episode one begins with astronomers intercepting what appears to be an extraterrestrial communication, and Gilligan immediately grounds the spectacle by introducing his protagonist, Carol Sturka (Rhea Seehorn). Carol — a novelist who writes romantic fantasy and is currently on a book tour — provides a human center for the larger mystery.
Gilligan’s skill for crafting endearingly flawed characters remains intact. Carol is prickly, sarcastic, and often impatient with her own circumstances; she can be infuriating, but she’s never uninteresting. Her partner and agent, Helen (Miriam Shor), counters her dour streak with warmth and a knack for reframing Carol’s pessimism. Their rapport feels lived‑in and specific, recalling the layered relationships Gilligan has written before — the emotional core that anchored shows like Better Call Saul.
The contrast between Carol’s glass‑half‑empty view and Helen’s sunnier outlook gives their relationship real texture — which is why Helen’s sudden death roughly 28 minutes into episode one lands so cruelly. The show doesn’t just pose a scientific puzzle; it asks how ordinary people process grief and loss amid a global crisis. Helen’s passing echoes the devastating emotional ruptures Gilligan has explored before, and Carol’s descent into addiction is portrayed with brutal empathy rather than melodrama.
Many genre shows tease mystery over feeling: What is this phenomenon? How does it function? Why now? Gilligan instead answers many surface‑level questions quickly, even staging an unsettlingly genial press‑conference scene in which a member of the hivemind cheerfully explains its presence. That choice shifts the drama inward: by episode two, my attention had moved away from mechanism and toward motive and character history.
The show raises compelling personal questions: Why were Carol and Helen closeted? What circumstances led to Carol’s car being fitted with a breathalyzer? And, given Carol’s professional success and the stability of her relationship, why was she so dissatisfied before tragedy struck? Those are the sorts of mysteries Gilligan excels at — the human puzzles that compel you to keep watching.
At its best, Pluribus uses its speculative hook to illuminate real, messy human behavior. Gilligan doesn’t rush the emotional work: he sketches characters who are contradictory and sometimes infuriating, but who feel undeniably authentic. Carol is selfish at times, petulant at others, yet she also demonstrates moments of genuine care — including an act at the end of episode two in which she rescues a hivemind member from someone with morally alarming intentions.
It’s impressive that Gilligan builds so much character in such a short span. With a second season already greenlit and talk of planning at least one additional season, he appears to have the runway to deepen both the characters and the world he’s begun to assemble (read more).
The first two episodes of Pluribus are streaming now on Apple TV+. New episodes premiere on Fridays.
Source: Polygon
