Creator of “Breaking Bad” and “Better Call Saul,” Vince Gilligan’s newest series “Pluribus” reinvents the alien bodysnatcher subgenre and brings Albuquerque to centerstage once again.
Largely filmed in New Mexico, “Pluribus” features an alien, virus-like entity that comes to Earth through a mysterious radio transmission, with almost everyone on Earth assimilated into a pacifistic hivemind, except for just 13 people worldwide, who are — for an unknown reason — immune.
The show follows a grumpy fantasy-romance writer Carol Sturka, played by Rhea Seehorn, one of the few immune to the alien mind virus on the day of the “Joining.” Sturka, resentful of the virus’ role in the death of her wife, seeks to put the world back to the way things were, but finds difficulty, as everyone seems content with the exceedingly accommodating and friendly hivemind. The hivemind members attend to the remaining humans’ every whim, unable to harm any living thing — they cannot even pick fruit due to their “biological imperative.”
Gilligan takes a new approach to the horror of the hivemind; it is frightening simply because it strips people of their originality. Unlike many stories focused on collective consciousness, the “Pluribus” hivemind comes with no threat of violence. Compare that to the pod-people from “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” or more recently the vampires from “Sinners,” these entities aren’t just threatening because they’re hiveminds, they’re also threatening because they’re aggressive and violent. The “Pluribus” hivemind, however, cannot hurt humans.
And yet, even without the threat of physical violence, the “Pluribus” hivemind is immensely sinister. Gilligan demonstrates that the threat to one’s originality, autonomy and humanity is enough to be terrifying, even if it results in world peace.
It’s impossible not to notice the similarities between the “Pluribus” hivemind — a single entity with access to all of humanity’s collective knowledge and does nothing but say “yes” to and desperately try to please humans — and AI chatbot models like ChatGPT. “Pluribus” illustrates that a threat to the mind and spirit is horrifying, even when it explicitly doesn’t threaten the body.
Sturka’s identity as an artist and art appreciator adds a layer of thematic depth. At one point, she goes to the Georgia O’Keefe museum and takes the original “Bella Donna” painting to hang in her home.
Contrary to Sturka, the hivemind of “Pluribus” is an entity that prioritizes efficiency above all else. All resources are allocated to the pleasure of the immune and the achievement of hivemind goals. Art is deemed waste and left behind.
As AI art becomes more common, a question increasingly asked of artists is why we bother creating things by hand. The insinuation is we are wasting our time making when we could just have whatever we want spat out for us in seconds.
But the waste is the point. Everything that Carol asks the hive to get back; power to museums, the sparkling city lights, the stocked shelves of her usual grocery store; are gone to begin with because the hive deemed them waste. Humans, as opposed to the hive, are not governed by “biological imperative,” we’re motivated by desire and satisfaction. The point of human life is not to get what you want, but to want. The world created by the hive is joyless, because anything you could want, you immediately get.
Gilligan makes this clear when Sturka jokes to a member of the hive that there is nothing wrong that a hand grenade couldn’t fix. Taking her at her word, the hive provides Sturka with exactly what she wanted—a live hand grenade that subsequently destroys her home.
Another subtler aspect of “Pluribus” I appreciated is the way Albuquerque is treated. Since his breakout series “Breaking Bad,” Gilligan has set most of his projects in Albuquerque; however, both of his previous projects showed the city as a rough place, riddled with drugs and crime. It’s not an entirely inaccurate depiction, but it’s not what I’d call a fair depiction either. The Albuquerque of “Pluribus,” however, is soft and hauntingly beautiful. Gilligan treats the city’s architecture, landscape and cultural history with a new sense of reverence.
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In all of Gilligan’s projects, the city is a character. In “Breaking Bad” and “Better Call Saul,” Albuquerque is a rough anti-hero, but in “Pluribus,” it plays a similar role to Sturka’s deceased wife. It’s this beautiful thing, taken and hollowed out by the hive. Albuquerque Mayor Tim Keller also had a cameo, which I loved because it made me laugh.
With “Pluribus,” Gilligan is exploring new territory compared to his previous work and artfully pushing the boundaries of the genre he’s moving into. I cannot wait to see where the rest of this series goes.
Addison Fulton is the culture editor for the Daily Lobo. She can be reached at culture@dailylobo.com or on X @dailylobo
