An awful lot happens in the first episode of Pluribus (Apple TV) and then not very much after that. Vince Gilligan’s (Breaking Bad) new series begins with a signal from outer space exciting some nerds at a remote observation centre, moves quickly on to that signal containing instructions for creating a virus, and then within minutes that virus has transferred from lab rats to the entire human population. Cue zombie apocalypse.
The difference here is that they are not actually zombies but preternaturally happy humans who wander around smiling enigmatically and generally behave like the Everything is Awesome chorus in The Lego Movie. That’s because, for them, everything is awesome: the virus has somehow connected every human together into a version of Rousseau’s ideal society.
Everyone is nice, helpful, charitable and endlessly self-sacrificing. They cannot and do not lie. They have even developed a hive mind whereby the knowledge of all the happy-clappers is linked, meaning they all know everything – and use it only for the common good.
Pluribus imagines the Earth being hit by a happy apocalypse. (Pictured: Seehorn and co-star Karolina Wydra) – Apple TV
This being a take on the zombie apocalypse trope, however, a handful of humans have been mysteriously spared infection. Chief among them is our protagonist, Carol Sturka, a bestselling author who, avant le deluge, churned out “romantasy” schlock – and hated herself for it.
Carol, played by Better Call Saul’s Rhea Seehorn, is a paid-up cynic who takes the Hobbesian view when confronted with all the virulent smilers: this is a freak show; it is the end of free will and individualism, it is wrong and something needs to be done about it.
E pluribus unum? No thanks, says Carol, who sets about bringing back some pluribus.
I say “sets about”, the first six hours of Pluribus, after that early burst of premise-setting, is remarkable mostly for its languor. The world is built with the precision and care of a matchstick house: wonderful to look at, much to admire, but as dynamic as dough.
Carol discovers that there are 11 other Faithfuls (if you like) in the world and sets about meeting them. It’s not hard for her to do so because the smiley Traitors are endlessly helpful. Carol just has to pick up the phone and they will take her there. But the other normals are all pretty useless because, frankly, they quite like this nutopia. Why, they ask Carol, does the world need saving?
Against this feast of insipid gurning and general inertia, Pluribus places Seehorn as Carol, and as Saul fans would expect, she is sensational: it is a do-not-pass-go, move straight to Emmy, performance.
You could spend a lot of time in Carol’s company, which is lucky, because in the early stages of Pluribus, you do. The demands of the high-concept set-up mean that she is the only character (in the sense of someone inspiring empathy or interest) in the whole show. Everyone else is an automaton.
Carol, a cynical romance novelist, is effectively the only character in the show who is not an automaton – Apple TV
At least, that is, until episode six, when another normie emerges who also sees the dangers in an entirely Xanax-ed society and might, just might, be able to pique our interest.
The problem is that, by this point, we are six hours in. Pluribus was commissioned for two series straight off the bat, and I would suggest that this, and Gilligan’s established modus (both Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul are slow-burners), is why it moves at such a leisurely pace.
We know that those series took several seasons to catch light yet still ended up in the all-time TV hall of fame – on that basis the drama deserves further attention. I’ve watched six hours and enjoyed every minute, but I still have no idea where, if anywhere, this show is going.
The first two episodes of Pluribus are available on Apple TV
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