Editor’s note: The below contains spoilers for the Pluribus Season 1 finale.As an alum of The X-Files, Vince Gilliganunderstands the eternal power of the unknown. By leaving viewers in the dark, you’ll keep them wanting more. The creator of Breaking Badand theacclaimed Apple TV series Pluribus, Gilligan forces his audience to sit through episodes of methodical plot-building and character development, but he rewards their patience with some of the most intense, probing, and dynamic episodes of television in history. When recommending Breaking Bad to friends, everyone was obligated to preface it by saying, “It starts out slow.” With its spin-off series, Better Call Saul, Gilligan and co-creator Peter Gouldupped the ante by crafting multiple deliberately paced seasons without an explosive resolution.
Pluribus, which reunites Gilligan with Better Call Saul breakout star Rhea Seehorn, is the showrunner’s apex as a patient storyteller, so much so that many audiences have turned against it after its first season due to its pacing. However, to suggest that the show is boring, repetitive, or anticlimactic is agrave misreading of Gilligan’s artistic touch that has defined his legendary career in television.
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‘Pluribus’ Leaves Most of Its Questions Unanswered
The first episode of Pluribus introduces viewers to Carol Sturka (Seehorn), a cynical author residing in Gilligan’s favorite city, Albuquerque, who finds herself in the middle of a traumatic global takeover by an unknown entity. Like Carol, who witnesses the death of her wife, Helen (Miriam Shor), amid the chaos of the world, viewers are perplexed, if not horrified, at what is occurring. Why are all these people dying? How do all the survivors know Carol’s name, including a White House staff member? Most importantly, why is everyone so peculiarly nice? It’s a dazzling episode that drops viewers into this ostentatious scenario and trusts them to make their own judgments.
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Collider Exclusive · Sci-Fi Survival Quiz Which Sci-Fi World Would You Survive? The Matrix · Mad Max · Blade Runner · Dune · Star Wars
Five universes. Five completely different ways the future went wrong — or sideways, or up in flames. Only one of them is the world your instincts were built for. Eight questions will figure out which dystopia, galaxy, or desert wasteland you’d actually make it out of alive.
💊The Matrix
🔥Mad Max
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🌧️Blade Runner
🏜️Dune
🚀Star Wars
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01
You sense something is deeply wrong with the world around you. What do you do? The first instinct is often the truest one.
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02
In a world of scarcity, what resource do you guard most fiercely? What we protect reveals what we believe survival actually requires.
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03
What kind of threat keeps you up at night? Fear is useful data — if you’re honest about what you’re actually afraid of.
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04
How do you deal with authority you don’t trust? Every dystopia has a power structure. Your approach to it determines everything.
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05
Which environment could you actually endure long-term? Survival isn’t just tactical — it’s physical, psychological, and very much about where you are.
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06
Who do you want in your corner when things fall apart? The company you keep is the clearest signal of who you actually are.
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07
Where do you draw the line — if you draw one at all? Every survivor eventually faces a moment that tests what they’re actually made of.
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08
What would actually make survival worth it? Staying alive is one thing. Having a reason to is another.
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Your Fate Has Been Calculated You’d Survive In…
Your answers point to the world your instincts were built for. This is the universe your temperament, your survival instincts, and your particular brand of stubbornness were made for.
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The Resistance, Zion
The Matrix
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You took the red pill a long time ago — probably before anyone offered it to you. You’re a systems thinker who can’t help but notice the seams in things.
You’re drawn to understanding how the system works before figuring out how to break it.
You’d find the Resistance, or it would find you — your instinct for spotting constructed realities is the machines’ worst nightmare.
You function best when you have access to information and the freedom to act on it.
The Matrix built an airtight prison. You’d be the one probing the walls for the door.
The Wasteland
Mad Max
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The wasteland doesn’t reward the clever or the well-connected — it rewards those who are hard to kill and harder to break. That’s you.
You don’t need comfort, community, or a cause larger than the next horizon.
You need a vehicle, a clear threat, and enough fuel to outrun it — and you’re good at all three.
You are unsentimental enough to survive that world, and decent enough — just barely — to be something more than another raider.
In the wasteland, that distinction is everything.
Los Angeles, 2049
Blade Runner
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You’d survive here because you know how to exist in moral grey areas without losing yourself completely.
You read people accurately, keep your circle small, and ask the questions others prefer not to answer.
In a city where humanity is a legal designation rather than a feeling, you hold onto something that keeps you functional.
You’re not a hero. But you’re not lost, either.
In Blade Runner’s world, that distinction is everything.
Arrakis
Dune
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Arrakis is the most hostile environment in the known universe — and you are precisely the kind of person it rewards.
Patience, discipline, and political awareness are your core strengths — and on Arrakis, they’re survival tools.
You understand that the long game matters more than any single victory.
Others come to Dune and are consumed by it. You’d learn its logic and earn its respect.
In time, you wouldn’t just survive Arrakis — you’d begin to reshape it.
A Galaxy Far, Far Away
Star Wars
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The galaxy far, far away is vast, loud, and in a constant state of violent political upheaval — and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
You find meaning in being part of something larger than yourself — a cause, a crew, a rebellion.
You’d gravitate toward the Rebellion, or the fringes, or whatever pocket of the galaxy still believes the Empire’s grip can be broken.
You fight — not because you have to, but because standing aside isn’t something you’re capable of.
In Star Wars, that willingness is what makes all the difference.
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As the nine-episode season progresses, the audience is given little crumbs that explain the origin and existence of this hivemind, known as “The Others,” who dutifully serve Carol with the intent of making her happy, something she’s certainly not interested in. She first tries to commission assistance from the remaining people in the world unaffected by the virus. Then she turns to performing her own sleuthing and undermining the hive, which embodies what Artificial Intelligence would look like as a cult. After tiresome resistance, Carol begins exhibiting signs of Stockholm syndrome, learning to accept the comfortable but inhuman lifestyle propagated by the Others.
‘Pluribus’ Carol Sturka Is a More Passive Protagonist Than Walter White or Saul Goodman
After its enticing setup, Pluribus does not indulge the audience with a thrilling second act and conclusion. In Gilligan’s previous shows, Walter White (Bryan Cranston) shaves his head and transforms into the first phase of Heisenberg in Breaking Bad, and in Better Call Saul, Jimmy McGill (Bob Odenkirk) can’t help but lay the groundwork for his titular alter ego by performing numerous cons. Pluribus, which ends with Carol and fellow immune Manousos Oviedo (Carlos-Manuel Vesga) receiving a package containing an atom bomb (an item that Carol previously asked if she could request from the Others), indicates that the story is only starting. The show more or less remains in the same place from the end of Episode 1 through its finale, drawing the ire of some viewers who felt cheated out of dramatic stakes.
Despite Gilligan’s fascination with change and character evolution, Pluribus deals with a protagonist stubborn to change her pessimistic ways in the face of her perpetually happy neighbors. As a reluctant hero, a woman already stuck in a malaise as a frustrated novelist writing low-brow fantasy books,it would be disingenuous to Carol’s characterization if she solved the world’s problems within a season. While it slows the development of the story, her exasperation at the Others’ robotic friendliness is an essential component to the show’s dark humor and grounded quality. The series may be science fiction, but living with advanced technology with the potential to take over humanity is eerily reflective of our present day.
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‘Pluribus’ Proves that Slow-Burn Filmmaking Is Vince Gilligan’s Secret Weapon
John Cena in PluribusImage via Apple TV
Having attained the highest levels of critical adoration during the peak of the prestige television boom, Gilligan has nothing to prove, and Pluribus represents an artist in complete control of his uncompromising vision. Even when Breaking Bad was at its most heart-pounding, Gilligan and his creative team always returned to slow-burn filmmaking, visualized by unbroken wide shots of a sweeping vista. Characters who concoct elaborate schemes, investigate documents, and build machinery complement his love for process and procedure, leaving no stone unturned in the world and story-building department. Preternatural private eye/hitman Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks) in the Heisenberg-verse is perhaps the North Star of Gilligan’s style, as both shows depict him laboriously dismantling devices and tailing his enemies.
Gilligan’s love for process comes alive in Pluribus, resulting in low-energy scenes without a direct resolution. However, the series is more suited to slow-burning sequences than Breaking Bad or Saul, as the plot machinations are limited to merely watching Carol try to make sense of her surroundings. The series wisely keeps its scope measured — forcing us to focus on one tiny aspect of this global takeover rather than diving into the life-or-death consequences in its first season.
Although time has passed since the nadir of 2020, the listless nature of Carol’s life recalls how we all hunkered down and dealt with grave uncertainty during the pandemic, and this feeling should resonate with all audiences. Interstitials track the progression of time since the Others’ takeover, yet nothing has changed. Slow-burn pacing is not just an artistic flex on the showrunner or director’s part, but also an actor’s showcase. Off the momentum as Kim Wexler in Better Call Saul, Seehorn uses the narrative flexibility of Pluribus to express a wide range of emotions, starting with disdain towards Carol’s audience to a strange affection for her chaperone, Zosia (Karolina Wydra).
Pluribus is never boring, but it refuses to hold the audience’s hand — a challenge for those engaging in passive or second-screen viewing. The series taps into your feelings of being stuck in a dead end. First, you try to fight against it, then you begrudgingly accept these circumstances after futile efforts, and then you find yourself longing to stay in a place of eternal comfort. Rather than conveying these ideas out loud, Gilligan uses methodical pacing to track Carol’s psychological status, which has devolved from a noble rebel to being romantically involved with her captor. For some, Pluribus perhaps just hits too close to home as a reflection of recent history and our attachment to technological assistance that enables loneliness.
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