“Logo text For several years, you could set your watch by a series of recurring columns written by TV critics. In June, there was, “Why Emmy Voters Would Be Dumb To Ignore Better Call Saul Star Rhea Seahorn!” followed in July by, “Why Emmy Voters Were Dumb to Ignore Rhea Seehorn!” That evolved in the”, — write: www.hollywoodreporter.com
For several years, you could set your watch by a series of recurring columns written by TV critics. In June, there was, “Why Emmy Voters Would Be Dumb To Ignore Better Call Saul Star Rhea Seahorn!” followed in July by, “Why Emmy Voters Were Dumb to Ignore Rhea Seehorn!” That evolved in the AMC drama’s last two seasons to, “Holy Cow, Emmy Voters Nominated Rhea Seehorn!” and finally “Man, Emmy Voters Really Loved Not Giving Emmys to Better Call Saul!” It was a roller coaster.
One person who didn’t need the annual reminder, of course, was Better Call Saul co-creator Vince Gilligan, frequent up-close beneficiary of the wry, romantic, tormented brilliance that Seehorn and Kim Wexler contributed to the Breaking Bad prequel.
Air date: Friday, Nov. 7 (Apple TV)
Cast: Rhea Seehorn
Creator: Vince Gilligan
Like several of my peers, I had concerns about the kind of parts that Seehorn might be offered once Better Call Saul ended. When Gilligan announced that she would be the star of his follow-up series, his first creation or co-creation outside of that television universe since The Lone Gunman in 2001 (unless you count CBS’ Battle Creekwhich you probably shouldn’t), it was cause for celebration. If anybody knew how to make a Rhea Seehorn vehicle, it would be Gilligan. Right?
That question can be answered simply: Correct!
Pluribuswhich premieres its nine-episode first season (a second was part of the original pickup) Friday on Apple TV, is a Rhea Seehorn vehicle through-and-through. It’s a pure and, at times, solo showcase that might have worked to some degree with other actresses of a similar quality, but delivers its blend of emotional drama, broad comedy and unsettling horror thanks to Seehorn’s versatility.
That’s the easy answer to the easiest question one can ask about Pluribus and perhaps the last time I’ll be able to give you a straightforward answer on a show announced, developed and promoted with great secrecy by Apple. Pluribus simultaneously benefits from audiences not knowing EVERYTHING about it going in, but may not be designed to bear up under the pressure of Gilligan-based expectations or the weight of a complete and total blackout. It’s a big target to put on a show and I think audiences and readers probably benefit from knowing… a bit.
If you want to go in knowing nothing other than its basic auspices, prepare to stop reading. It’s an extremely funny, somewhat unsettling, impressively odd show that gains in confidence across the seven episodes sent to critics. Expect a new ritual of “Why Emmy Voters Would Be Dumb To Ignore Pluribus Star Rhea Seahorn!” pieces starting next spring. There you go. Nothing spoiled.
I promise the rest of this review will say more, but the actual, tangible spoilers, especially related to anything after the first episode, written and directed by Gilligan, will be kept to an absolute minimum.
But curious readers will probably still have questions.
What, in broad strokes, is Pluribus about?
Well, Seehorn plays Carol Sturka, author of a series of successful novels that bookstores describe as “speculative historical romance literature.” Think Diana Gabaldon.
As the show begins, Carol is completing the tour for her latest book, accompanied by Helen (Miriam Shor), her manager and life partner. Carol is tired of writing speculative historical romance literature. She’s tired of answering dumb questions from dedicated fans. She’s tired of keeping her relationship with Helen a bit of a secret and tired of the fact that she has to blow into a breathalyzer to start her car.
Carol is just tired. She has aspirations of finally completing a “serious” novel, but she knows her publisher isn’t excited to have her branch out beyond her popular Wycaro franchise.
Actually, that’s not entirely how Pluribus begins. It begins with a countdown and with scientists at a listening post receiving a message from deep in space. The message contains instructions. The instructions lead additional scientists to research. And the research leads to the moment the countdown reaches zero, which happens to be the moment when Carol and Helen return home to Albuquerque.
Very quickly, Carol realizes that the people of Albuquerque have changed a little. The people of the world are a little changed. Carol may, in fact, be one of the few people who remains the way she used to be, which is ironic, because before all of this happened, Carol wasn’t particularly comfortable with any part of her identity.
That’s all you’re giving us?
I’m being evasive here, but the show itself is evasive. Some viewers will be frustrated at the pace information is distributed in Pluribus. Others will recognize that the show is driven by Carol’s perspective and that information is distributed based on her interest and logic. That she is, initially, disinterested in asking the questions many in the audience will want asked is infuriating and intentional. She learns things as she changes and becomes more curious and receptive. It’s a key journey of the show.
What does the title mean?
I’m not here to explain Latin to you.
What, in broad strokes, is Pluribus thematically about?
Well, It’s about the internet and about AI, about anything that offers the simulacrum of community and togetherness, with the after-effect of leaving us feeling more lonely and more disconnected from community than we were before, a modernity in which algorithms and virtual assistants and intrusive surveillance can make us feel seen, when we’re actually being watched and quantified.
Or something like that. It’s perhaps a little thematically evasive too, or at least resistant to on-the-nose readings, which makes attempted analysis fun.
What, in broad strokes, will Pluribus remind me of?
Well, it’s a little 3 Body Problem and a little Last Man on Earth. Carol actually references several movies that it’s like, and if you want a version of the show that’s less subtle and more amenable to on-the-nose readings, there are at least two shows from the great Robert and Michelle King that would fit that bill.
Wait. Given the Gilligan and Seehorn of it all, will Pluribus remind me of Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul?
If you watch the closing credits, it certainly will. It’s a glorious reunion of talented people, including writer-producers Gordon Smith and Alison Tatlock, plus much of the technical crew, like cinematographer Marshall Adams, production designer Denise Pizzini, editor Skip Macdonald, composer Dave Porter, costumer Jennifer L. Bryan and music supervisor Thomas Golubic.
For a while, you may need to reach to find other similarities, but as Carol starts trying to find a solution for humanity’s predicament, it becomes an elaborate “process” show — lots of cheeky “Somebody’s got a convoluted plan!” montages — in ways that have a lot in common with Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad.
For Emmy purposes, what is Apple likely to do with Pluribus?
Well, episodes are between 40 minutes and an hour, so I assume it will be submitted as a drama. It has dramatic things in it. What’s happening in Albuquerque and around the globe isn’t great, but a lot of people seem happy. It’s a little horror and a little sci-fi and since the Emmys don’t recognize genres other than “comedy” or “drama,” those don’t count. So “drama.”
But it’s a comedy, or at least it functions best as a comedy, one in which sometimes nightmarishly dark things happen and other times nightmarishly dark things are implied.
A lot of the tonal peculiarity of Pluribuswhich I liked very much, comes from Gilligan’s direction of the first two episodes. I’m not sure there’s a director currently working in TV who gets as much value out of every corner of the frame as Gilligan does, which is why so many of his episodes improve upon second viewing. That’s true of the Pluribus pilot
Sometimes he uses the depth of his field to build suspense or terror, like several scenes in which Carol is driving through her changed world and it’s necessary to monitor the unrest in the background almost as much as what Seehorn is doing in the foreground. But just as often, he uses it to capture the banal absurdities adjacent to the high drama of everyday life. Pluribus and The Lowdown are two of the funniest shows of the fall but I expect both to be treated as dramas by awards groups.
As the show progresses, there are long stretches that the snobby among our ranks will compare to Jacques Tati, with droll commentary on contemporary life baked equally into throwaway sight gags and deceptively elaborate set pieces. Pluribus has plenty of both.
Seehorn is less Monsieur Hulot, however, and more Buster Keaton. When she purses her lips and sets her chin, Seehorn conveys immediate sternness and sourness. Carol may not ask the questions you want asked, but if you think the show’s particular circumstances might warrant irritation, incredulity and liberal swearing, Seehorn makes Carol into your end-of-the-world avatar.
When Seehorn opens up and lightens up, though, when she goes behind the grouchy facade, she’s exactly the kind of actress you want steering a one-woman show. She’s broad and raw one moment and rays of light burst out the next and she barely needs dialogue to present a full character arc. If you’ve ever wondered why critics have built a Cult of Rhea Seehorn, just watch the first half of Pluribus‘seventh episode.
So is the show really ALL about Rhea Seehorn?
Honestly? Mostly, though to explain further would spoil things. There are very good guest performances, from veteran soap star Peter Bergman in the pilot to a joyful and amusing Samba Schutte — well chosen for being nearly Seehorn’s opposite in projected attitude — to the properly enigmatic Karolina Wydra. But mostly, it’s about Seehorn and Gilligan and Albuquerque and a plot that kept me just curious enough to ignore the surplus of genre familiarity, plus a tricky tone that hit right on my wavelength.
I’ll have to see the season’s last two episodes to know if Pluribus is one of the year’s best shows, but the potential is there.