Most discussion around Vince Gilligan’s science-fiction drama Pluribus has centered on Carol (played by Better Call Saul alum Rhea Seehorn) and her struggle after an alien pathogen causes humanity to coalesce into a communal consciousness the production team dubs “The Others.” But another pivotal figure — an “Original” who appears resistant to the contagion — returns in episode 6 to reveal crucial information and take center stage for a memorable sequence.
Koumba Diabaté (portrayed by Our Flag Means Death actor Samba Schutte) is the Original who treats Carol with the most warmth and empathy, and his viewpoint offers a counterbalance to her fear and defiance. Whereas Carol is preoccupied with resisting the hivemind, Diabaté luxuriates in the Others’ gift of unfettered fantasy — the power to go anywhere and become anyone because the Others exist to gratify the Originals. In episode 6, titled “HDP,” that indulgence takes the form of an extravagant, Bond-inspired fantasy sequence — a scene that was evidently a thrill to film. Polygon spoke with Schutte about bringing that moment to life, including the surprising detail that he had his first-ever martini for the role.
[Ed. note: Very light spoilers for Pluribus episode 6 follow.]
In “HDP,” we see a portrait of Diabaté outside his usual measured demeanor: he’s in Las Vegas, living out a cinematic James Bond reverie influenced by films such as the 2006 Casino Royale. Clad in an immaculate suit, sipping martinis and surrounded by glamorous patrons, he sits down at a high-stakes poker table opposite a menacing rival and stages a dramatic triumph. Of course the tableau is manufactured — the Others perform every role exactly as he requests — but the fantasy reads as both intoxicating for the character and joyous for the actor.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Image: Apple TV
Polygon: The poker sequence in episode 6 looks like it must have been an absolute blast to shoot. What was the atmosphere like on set?
Samba Schutte: That whole sequence felt like a fantasy come to life. When I first read the scene I couldn’t wait to film it — who wouldn’t want a James Bond moment? We actually started my shoots in Vegas with episode 6 before other episodes, which helped me fully inhabit who Mr. Diabaté has become. As soon as we arrived, people were pointing at me and saying, “You’re the guy,” and then they showed me enormous posters of my character plastered outside the casino. That’s when I realized how big this fantasy is for him: he wants to be the king of the scene.
I rewatched Casino Royale to get the cadence right, and the production even had me try a martini so I’d know what the gesture felt like. We shot the sequence across two or three overnight sessions with something like 150–200 extras. The background actors looked incredible — there were nods to icons like Elvis and Audrey Hepburn — and it felt surreal to stage such opulence inside a world that otherwise feels inhuman. Playing poker with a cinematic villain was huge fun.
Image: Apple TV
How did that first martini go?
Honestly, I hated it. I’m not a cocktail person, and that first taste was awful — but it was part of the performance, so I had to sell it. The props martinis were mostly olives and water, and after many resets my lips were so salty. By take 17 I let out an enormous burp and completely broke the mood. We kept resetting, but I learned how to make the moment read as effortless even if I didn’t enjoy the drink.
The show raises thorny questions about consent: the Others perform sexual and romantic fantasies for Originals, yet they can’t refuse. How did you approach that nuance in Diabaté’s character?
Vince and I talked about that early on. The essential idea is that Diabaté didn’t come from privilege — he grew up awkward, overlooked, and inexperienced with love. Suddenly he has what feels like a genie: everything he could imagine is handed to him. There’s an innocence to him; he’s delighted and a little overwhelmed, not predatory. That’s a difficult balance to strike — showing the seductive excess without making the character sleazy.
There are moments that probe this tension: he genuinely believes the Others want to please him and that they’re acting as individuals who adore him. He even asks Zosia if he’s behaved wrongly, and when she says no he reacts with relief. So part of his belief system is that the Others are people in their own right, even if they’re collectively controlled. That uncertainty — would they convert him if it served them? — is an intriguing power dynamic to play with.
Image: Apple TV
In the poker scene he corrects the eyepatch player — “No, you’re doing it wrong” — and shapes how others perform. How hands-on is he in staging these fantasies?
Remember, the hivemind has access to the collective knowledge of humanity. They can channel the instincts of Tom Hanks, George Clooney or any great performer. For the most part they instinctively give him what he wants. The rare moments he offers direction are because the Others, being innately compassionate and eager to please, struggle to convincingly play cruelty or menace. So he’ll coach them to be darker when needed, but otherwise they’re capable of delivering precisely the cinematic tableau he imagines.
Pluribus episodes 1–6 are available to stream on Apple TV. New episodes premiere on Fridays.
Source: Polygon
