Calling Vince Gilligan’s new sci-fi show Pluribus a twisty series is an understatement. One moment you’re laughing quietly at romantasy author Carol Sturka (Better Call Saul’s Rhea Seehorn) complaining about her books’ popularity to her exasperated agent-slash-partner Helen (Miriam Shor), and the next you’re watching entire crowds of people convulse in the grip of an unknown alien power. Then, a few days later, Carol is settling down for a relaxing evening of binge-watching Susan Harris’ legendary 1985 American sitcom, The Golden Girls. Just an average Tuesday night.
The first two episodes of Pluribus expertly set up the show’s mind-boggling premise. The third shows Carol knuckling down to assess what she knows about what’s happened to the rest of humanity. And her choice of comfort viewing in the midst of a crisis might seem pretty random — but Golden Girls has a surprising amount of resonance with what’s really going on with Carol, and with Pluribus.
[Ed. note: Spoilers ahead for Pluribus episodes 1-3.]
As it turns out, humanity has gone through a transformation — a “Joining” — that means almost everyone on the planet is now connected via a blissful, peaceful hivemind. (Your grandma knows how to fly a plane now; your child is also your gynecologist.) However, there are a handful of others worldwide who, like Carol, are not affected by this extraterrestrial outbreak.
In the second episode, Carol seeks out some of the other immune folks, only to find that they aren’t interested in figuring out how to reverse the change. With that being a bust, the lovable grouch spends time in the third episode drowning her sorrows with alcohol and episodes of The Golden Girls on DVD. The show follows four mature women who live together in Miami, which seems worlds away from Pluribus’ science fiction story. But the stark individualism of the characters in the face of the hivemind’s disturbing sameness says otherwise.
One episode Carol watches — “Dorothy’s New Friend,” from season 3 — is particularly meaningful. Harebrained but well-meaning Rose Nyland (Betty White) tells a story about a neighbor she was scared of as a kid. “One day I got up the courage to go up to Mean Old Lady Hickenlooper, and I asked her why she always frowned.” Rose explains. “Well, she had been born with no smiling muscles! I pointed out that a frown is just a smile turned upside down! So from then on, whenever I’d go by, she’d stand on her head and wave!”
On the surface, this is obviously a nudge-wink moment about Carol’s situation with the hivemind. Helen’s death and Carol’s isolation from the other hivemind-immune people has left her pretty far from smiling. And she’s watching Rose tell a story about how Hickenlooper changed herself, at the expense of her own discomfort, to ensure Rose and her friends would be happy.
Symbolically, Rose is the hivemind here: As they explain, they’re looking for ways to absorb Carol and the other immunes, not out of malice, but to make them happy — whether they want happiness on those terms or not. They more or less want to force Carol to stand on her head — to upend her world to be like them, instead of accepting her as she is.
But the use of The Golden Girls isn’t just Vince Gilligan or the episode writer, Gordon Smith, trying to make a point about Carol. It’s an indication of what’s been lost with the hivemind taking over. While Carol’s fellow non-infected Koumba Diabaté (Our Flag Means Death’s Samba Schutte) is correct in pointing out that with everyone joined, there’s no crime, prejudice, or war anymore, it comes at the cost of individuality, a price Carol considers far too great.
Much like how the characters in Friends are designed as archetypes viewers can align with, the Golden Girls characters have radically different outlooks on life. Dorothy is headstrong, Blanche is lustful, Rose is ditzy, and Sophia is blunt. Their differences often cause them to fight like cats and dogs, but ultimately, by the end of each episode, they come back together as friends, their bonds stronger than ever.
The way these four women argue with each other simply wouldn’t fly in the post-Joined world. We’ve seen that Carol’s negative emotions are effectively The Joined’s Kryptonite, causing them to fall to the ground and convulse. The first time this happens, we’re later told, tens of millions of Joined died as a result. All of which gives Carol another reason to suppress her anger and fear, and not express it to anyone.
Which raises the question: How can you form meaningful connections with anyone if you’re unable to have difficult conversations with them? The Joined are capable of conversation, and are willing to do whatever is asked of them, but their one desire seems to be keeping Carol and the other non-infected happy. In trying not to hurt anyone, they’re conversationally delicate to the point of sounding patronizing, which frustrates Carol further. The Golden Girls models a different, more honest form of interaction: If one of the women asks another’s opinion on something, they’ll often get a brutally honest response that leads to a squabble. Conflict doesn’t make these characters happy, but the straightforward, no-holds-barred approach builds a camaraderie, trust, and friendship that The Joined simply aren’t able to replicate.
In many ways, Carol is the Dorothy of the group. Dorothy is prickly and no-nonsense, often clashing with others because she holds onto even her most unpopular values. Her ability to stick to her guns and make her own choices may even be a comfort for Carol: It contrasts with the hivemind, which seemingly can’t have individual opinions or make personally motivated choices, which is why Zosia can’t choose between staying with Carol or going with Diabaté.
It’s also why Carol’s so frustrated when other immune people express that they, too, want to join the hivemind. She feels they’re throwing away what makes them special: their unique opinions, their own choices, and the ability to stand up and defend them without literally collapsing in the face of disagreement.
It shouldn’t be lost that Carol — a closeted lesbian who’s just lost the secret partner her life was built around — veers toward this particular female-centric show when she’s looking for a comfort-watch. The show was ahead of its time in its approach to the LGBTQ+ community, with sympathetic storylines about AIDS and gay marriage long before they were considered “safe” media topics.
More importantly, though, the heart of The Golden Girls is that before its four protagonists got together, they all felt like lonely outsiders for different reasons: For instance, Dorothy is divorced and feels she’s wasted her life, while Rose is a lonely widow whose children have families of their own. Carol can relate, both as a closeted queer woman who’s lived a lie all her life, and as someone who’s lost her partner. She’s even isolated herself from the other non-infected.
Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, and Sophia have only formed such a tight-knit community, capable of healing from their various losses and disappointments, by being honest and trusting each other. Their relationships evolve throughout the series: They start out needing one another due to their loneliness and desire for connection, but by the end of the show, all four are strong enough to have forged other connections and opportunities.
That comes to a head when Dorothy moves away with her new love, which prompts more arguments from the others, who don’t want her to leave them. Again, they’re open and honest about their feelings, and that ultimately brings them closer together. In The Golden Girls, each relationship is a journey. The hivemind, knowing everything its constituent humans ever knew, believes they’ve already arrived at their destination, and have no desire to go anywhere else. Like a lot of things in Pluribus, that attitude is the complete antithesis to human existence. No wonder Carol would look back at such a human show when she wants a few hours of escape.
The first three episodes of Pluribus are streaming on Apple TV now. New episodes arrive on Fridays.
