Pluribus Doubles Down On Its Woke Elements As Nothing Happens Again In Episode 8

Vince Gilligan’s Pluribus reached new lows in its eighth episode, delivering 50 minutes of television where the only notable event is a gratuitous lesbian sex scene between the protagonist and an alien avatar. After eight episodes and a reported budget exceeding $200 million, the Apple TV+ series has devolved into expensive navel-gazing that mistakes atmosphere for storytelling and representation for character development.

The Budget: $200 Million for a Show That Goes Nowhere

Pluribus is one of Apple TV+’s most expensive productions. While Apple doesn’t publicly disclose budgets, industry reports suggest the series cost approximately $200-250 million for its nine-episode first season, or roughly $22-28 million per episode. That puts it in the same budget tier as The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power and House of the Dragon, shows with massive battle sequences, elaborate costumes, and extensive visual effects.

What does Pluribus spend that money on? According to the official Apple TV+ podcast accompanying the series, the production built an entire cul-de-sac in Santa Fe, New Mexico. They composited shots of the Las Vegas Strip without people, a process that took months of painstaking VFX work. In episode eight, they built a functioning diner from scratch in two days and filled an arena with extras for a single scene.

The production team was told to “go bigger” with their work, focusing on ambitious shots and elaborate set pieces. The result is a show that looks expensive but feels empty. The technical craftsmanship is impressive—the cinematography is beautiful, the production design is meticulous, and the visual effects are seamless. But none of that matters when the story doesn’t go anywhere, and the characters don’t do anything.

The Story: Alien Invasion as Background Noise

Pluribus follows Carol (Rhea Seehorn), a woman living in a world where an alien phenomenon called “the pluribus” has caused most of humanity to vanish. The first two episodes establish an eerie, unsettling atmosphere with strange lights in the sky, people disappearing, and Carol discovering she’s one of the few left behind. The setup suggests a mystery thriller about survival and alien contact.

Then the show stops moving. Episodes three through eight are slice-of-life vignettes where Molly wanders through empty cities, interacts with the few remaining people, and contemplates her loneliness. The alien invasion becomes background noise. We learn almost nothing about the pluribus, why it’s happening, or what Carol can do about it. The show settles into a rhythm of beautiful shots, atmospheric music, and characters having conversations that don’t advance the plot.

Episode eight continues this pattern. Carol, isolated and lonely, summons the aliens through an unexplained process. They send an avatar named Zosia. Zosia and Carol spend the episode building a romantic relationship that’s been telegraphed since episode one. The episode culminates in a sex scene that’s shot with the same meticulous attention to lighting and composition as everything else in the series.

Nothing else happens. We don’t learn more about the aliens. We don’t see Carol formulate a plan to fight back or escape or communicate with other survivors. The episode exists to deliver the lesbian romance the show has been building toward, and once that’s accomplished, it ends.

The Woke Problem: Representation Without Story

Apple TV+ has a pattern. Nearly every original series on the platform features LGBT leads or prominent LGBT storylines. The Morning Show, For All Mankind, Severance, Silo, Foundation and more all include gay or lesbian characters in central roles which makes every show into a propadganda piece for these deviant lifestyles.

Pluribus kept its LGBT themes relatively subtle for the first seven episodes. Carol’s attraction to women was implied but not foregrounded. The show focused on atmosphere and mystery, and the representation felt organic rather than performative. Episode eight abandons that restraint. The lesbian relationship becomes the episode’s focus, and the alien invasion through their virus fades into irrelevance.

This is pandering. The show knows its audience includes LGBT viewers who will applaud the representation regardless of whether the story justifies it. So the writers deliver a romance that’s been telegraphed for eight episodes, film it beautifully, and call it character development. When nothing happens in the plot it’s a naked show of woke ideology that destroys an already boring show.

The Decompression Problem: One X-Files Episode Stretched to Nine Hours

Pluribus suffers from the same decompression problem plaguing modern television. The premise of woman survives alien phenomenon that makes most of humanity vanish could support a tight 44-minute X-Files episode. Establish the mystery, investigate the phenomenon, discover the truth, resolve the conflict. Done.

Instead, Pluribus stretches that premise across nine hours. The first two episodes establish atmosphere. Episodes three through seven meander through slice-of-life vignettes. Episode eight delivers the lesbian romance. Presumably, episode nine will provide some kind of resolution, but after eight episodes of nothing happening, it’s hard to care.

This is what happens when writers prioritize mood over plot. Pluribus is atmospheric, beautifully shot, and meticulously crafted. But atmosphere isn’t story. Mood isn’t character development. You can’t sustain nine hours of television on vibes alone, no matter how expensive those vibes are.

The X-Files told complete stories in 44 minutes while building larger mythology arcs across seasons. Pluribus has had nine hours and still hasn’t answered basic questions about its premise. What is the pluribus? Why did it happen? What does it want? Can it be stopped? Should it be stopped? We’re one episode from the end of its first season, and we don’t know.

Rhea Seehorn Deserves Better

Rhea Seehorn is a talented actress. Her performance as Kim Wexler in Better Call Saul was one of the best in television, earning her multiple Emmy nominations. She brought depth, nuance, and emotional complexity to a character who could have been a generic love interest. Seehorn can act.

Pluribus wastes her. Carol is underwritten and passive. She reacts to events rather than driving them. She wanders through empty cities looking sad. She summons an alien girlfriend and has sex. Seehorn does what she can with the material, but there’s only so much an actor can do when the script doesn’t give them anything to work with.

Why Is Apple Doing This?

Apple TV+ has positioned itself as the prestige streaming service. They don’t chase mass appeal, but chase critical acclaim and awards. Shows like Ted Lasso, Severance, and For All Mankind have won Emmys and generated positive press. Apple is willing to spend enormous amounts of money on shows that don’t attract huge audiences because they want the platform to be associated with quality.

But Pluribus isn’t quality as of eight episodes. It’s expensive, it’s beautifully made, and it’s empty. The show has all the trappings of prestige television with an acclaimed creator, talented cast, massive budget, meticulous craftsmanship, but it doesn’t have a story worth telling so far. It’s the television equivalent of a luxury car with no engine. It looks impressive sitting in the driveway, but it doesn’t go anywhere.

Apple also prioritizes LGBTQ propaganda in its original programming. Every major Apple TV+ series features diverse casts and LGBT characters. That’s a deliberate strategy to appeal to progressive audiences and generate positive press from media outlets that value representation.

Episode Eight: Three Out of Ten

Episode eight earns a three out of ten. The production values are impressive—the cinematography is beautiful, the set design is meticulous, and the technical execution is flawless. But none of that matters when nothing happens. The episode exists to deliver a lesbian sex scene that’s been telegraphed since episode one, and once that’s accomplished, it ends.

One episode remains. Maybe episode nine will justify the eight hours of setup. Maybe it will answer the questions the show has been withholding. Maybe Molly will finally do something heroic.

But after eight episodes of nothing, it’s hard to care.

What do you think? Can Pluribus stick the landing in episode nine, or is this another example of decompressed storytelling wasting everyone’s time?