Transcription
In its first season, Plurvus proved to be a lot of things. It started with a mystery marketing campaign that left fans wondering if the team that brought us Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul could return to its sci-fi roots to deliver another hit. While this was a fun way to build anticipation, it also set the tone for a show that had the luxury of getting a two-season order in advance. It promised something mysterious would change the world, but didn't guarantee that getting answers would be the point.
The premise was straightforward, if not quirky. Could the most miserable person on Earth save the world from happiness? And why would she want to? For eight episodes, Vince Gilligan's new show had been building toward a finale where the fate of human individuality and possibly life in the galaxy at large was at stake. To process the ending of season 1, we first need to look back briefly at how we got there and examine the main forces at play that put us in a spot where the only thing left to do is make good on that premise.
The world as we know it ended when a signal from space containing a recipe for an RNA sequence arrived from a planet 600 light years away called Kepler 22b. This was the blueprint for something like a virus that triggered the event remembered as the joining, instantly linking nearly every human into a single shared consciousness through what they describe as a psychic glue by providing a workable explanation of what happened by the end of the first episode. And if you're unclear on the details, I do have a complete breakdown video you should check out.
The show established it wasn't taking the mystery box route. The show wasn't withholding information for viewers to solve, but instead was examining how the characters reacted to the unimaginable situation they found themselves in. That's not to say there aren't mysteries and fuel for speculation and theories, but the focus is on the human drama that results from the philosophical questions life in a post-joining world raises.
The newly created hive mind exists in a state of perpetual bliss and harmony, communicating unconsciously and operating under a strict no-kill policy. While this has ushered in peace on Earth, this inflexible rule coupled with the biological imperative to assimilate everyone creates problems. The effort to preserve itself and continue to spread required an escalation from spreading the virus through bodily fluids to an aerosol delivery system unleashed on a massive scale. This led to 886 million deaths during the initial catastrophic transition, which is an outcome the Hive didn't celebrate. Still, they were able to use the byproduct to help address the caloric deficit caused by not being able to kill anything, including plants. The hive processes the remains into human-derived protein, HDP, which is mixed into a nutrient drink they consume from milk cartons.
Because the civilization that sent the recipe is too far away to contact the hive, they don't fully understand their transition. They also don't understand why 13 people were immune and remain unjoined, but are compelled to assimilate them. The particulars of how the Hive functions are the enduring mystery the show drip-feeds details about throughout the first season. It isn't in their nature to lie to the unjoined as they try to keep them happy until they make them a part of the collective. This endears them to some of the remaining immune, especially those whose loved ones and family members have joined the collective. And that puts the burden of fighting for humanity squarely on the shoulders of a cynical, misanthropic romantic novelist who claims to hate her own work.
When we meet Carol Sturka at the beginning of the series, she's successful but not satisfied. She seems to have everything a person could want to the point that it makes you wonder if she isn't one of those people who are incapable of experiencing happiness. We learn that she keeps her same-sex marriage to her manager Helen a secret and is estranged from her family who sent her to a conversion camp when she was a teenager. When the joining happens, Helen briefly joins the others before she dies, which exposes all her secrets, and the resulting perpetually smiling Hive members trying to fix her presents as a second attempt at conversion. And in an interesting twist, any extreme emotional outburst from her causes a physical glitch in the others, triggering worldwide seizures that in one case led to 11 million deaths. This levels the playing field, gives the Hive an incentive to cater to her whims to avoid further conflict, and makes the moral high ground somewhat murky. It also highlights the show's tendency not to take sides. While most humans will choose individuality and the things that make us human, the show tries to avoid making things black and white.
Carol is not the only force at play. A world away in Paraguay, we were introduced to Manus Oedo, a fanatically antisocial survivor who refused all contact with the hive. They sent his joined mother to deliver him fresh-cooked meals, which he refused. He sustained himself on sugar packets and canned dog food while he meticulously scanned every radio frequency. He even refused their help on his mini-epic through the impassable Darian Gap. Inspired by Carol's video message after refusing the hive's care at a hospital in Panama, he's finally ready to cross the border into the US to find her.
The physical and psychological test he endured set the stage for the philosophical one laid out by the show's premise. When faced with the reality of the hive's biological imperative, knowing that immune survivors can only be joined through a painful stem cell harvesting process that requires the individual's express consent, will Carol choose to fight for the abstract concept of human individuality, or was she surrendered to the comfort of connection? This is part of our biological imperative. A theme brought to the forefront in Carol's story when her choice to try to give Zosa truth serum led to her almost dying and the others abandoning Carol for 40 days. That period of isolation was the setup for a complex romantic relationship with Zosa or the entire hive if you'd prefer, which appears to run counter to the intelligence gathering she's doing to undo the joining at the same time with Manus representing an intense, uncompromising demand to save the world and Zosa embodying the seductive "love is a hell of a drug" bliss route to get the girl.
The finale puts Carol in a place where she has to answer the question of the first season. Lica O Elundo, individuality or harmony? That brings us to the finale and to the value of human suffering, free will, and what we gain and lose by choosing to protect our humanity. Earlier I said there were 13 unjoined individuals and the episode 9 open reduces that number for the first time. 71 days, 13 hours, 31 minutes, and 31 seconds after the joining. We travel to Peru where we catch up with Kusamayu, who we met when Carol called the immune together for a summit in episode 2. The young woman was the candidate at the top of everyone's list to join the hive when Diabate told Carol about the stem cell procedure because Kusamayu had said that she wanted to be absorbed from the beginning. Carol made an ill-advised pitch to talk her out of it by saying, "Everything about you, that's you. Everything that's personal and individual and special. If we let this happen, you won't have that anymore." Kusamayu's response was simple but effective. She would still have those things. She would be sharing them.
In the finale, we visit her village to find her waiting. Her aunt and cousin are there and everything looks so normal. It takes a minute for it to register that this is just another example of the hive's play-acting to keep the unjoined happy. There's a drawn-out sequence of the canister arriving by plane and being transported by jeep for delivery. Her aunt opens the container. Kusamayu inhales the mist and they lay her down on a blanket as she starts to convulse. Overall, the new joining process is indistinguishable from the one when the world was converted through chemtrails in the premiere. Beyond losing one of the 13, the beautiful shots of the mountains, bright colors, and cool hats, the point is to make us consider how we feel about the hive after a whole season. Have your feelings evolved since you first heard her say she wanted to join so she could be with her family? For her part, she looked a little nervous, but willing, so her feelings hadn't changed. There are no issues with the new procedure. After some shaking, she opens her eyes and smiles and then just walks away. Everyone is in sync and they pack up the show. Kusamayu frees the animals, including a baby goat she'd been petting to keep calm while she waited. The shot of her walking off radiating bliss makes her seem completely indifferent.
Back in Albuquerque, Zosa shows Carol a live drone feed of Manus's ambulance heading her way. She reminds us that she knows nothing about him by asking if he's the guy she yelled at on the plane. And Zosa reminds us that he doesn't talk to them when she isn't able to tell Carol for sure what he wants. The main thing here is that the timing couldn't be worse. Carol is getting comfortable with having Zosa around. And when she says, "All the way from Paraguay, hell, I owe it to him, don't I?" it makes you wonder if her resolve to undo the joining is faltering. After her time alone and the prospect of that being how she spent the rest of her existence, you couldn't blame her for giving in. Zosa makes the right decision in leaving before he gets there, but can't hide that the hive is uncomfortable about his arrival. It affects Carol. And when Zosa answers that they don't think he would ever hurt Carol, instead of saying no, he's not dangerous, it plants a seed. When he pulls up in the cul-de-sac. It's been 60 days since the joining, so 11 days before the cold open in Peru. While harmony won the day there, Carol and Manus are entirely out of sync, which is funny, but it's also frustrating. He looks nervous because how could he not be? We know how much he went through to get there and how much he has riding on finally meeting the only other person in the world who might be willing to fight against the hive. He honks the horn to get her attention and then finally gets to deliver his mantra. "My name is Manus Oedo. I am not one of them. I want to save the world."
For all the buildup, it couldn't have been any more anticlimactic. Carol is understandably cautious but also not necessarily interested. And it's a little confusing because up until the last episode, we thought Carol was unquestionably devoted to changing things back to how they were. The language barrier doesn't help. And when Carol tries to use a translation app, it fully activates Manus's paranoia. He ends up throwing her phone in the drain because, "Come on, man. You know the weirdos are listening." The way it continues to translate as he uses his machete to try to fish it out, which is not an easy thing to do. And the way it always replaces "Carol Sturka" with "unknown word or name" lightens things up some, but it all adds up to the things about them that's them: everything that's personal and individual and special, making it impossible for them to connect in this moment. His uncompromising purity of purpose clashes with Carol's current compromised state. This goes on for a while and culminates after a will-they-won't-they situation involving standing under an umbrella together, which forces each of their hands. Manus has made this journey because her video led him to believe Carol was against the hive and he asked her directly why the hive would have given him that to bring together two people who want to destroy them. Something that Carol takes immediate issue with. If there was any question whether Carol's feelings about the hive had evolved, when she starts talking about them like Laxmi did when she insisted Robbie was still her son. We see that her connection with Zosa has complicated things. It's not a complete flip. Carol has been operating on the idea that the joining can be undone since episode 4. So, it does make sense that she would push back on the idea that they're no longer human. This will all work itself out once he gets a look under the hood. So, the key takeaways here are that Carol protects the hive and her current arrangement with a lie. When he asks why they came back, he continues to pick up crucial details that'll help him figure out how to get around her. And his inherent dickishness, which is underlined beautifully with the snapping, rubs against her chromoginess. In case you forgot, Carol is also quite the jerk. It all puts things on a course to significant change by episode's end. The path to get there is messy, and Carol needs a drink like he needed that pink umbrella.
Manus's insistence on searching for listening devices leads to the discovery that Helen had been using a motion sensor to monitor Carol's drinking, which reminds her of the eggs we've all been thinking about since they were introduced back in the ice hotel cold open in episode 3. A detail that will become the key to the Hive's upcoming betrayal of Carol. It also puts Zosa on Manus's radar when Carol makes the call to find out if they were spying after he picks up on her getting all Diabate about it when she was getting off the phone saying, "I'll see you later," in a suggestive way. His asking who she was talking to makes her realize she has the pressing matter of Golden Girls episodes that aren't going to watch themselves to get to. So, she moves to table the motion to save the world until tomorrow. She takes him next door to stay at her neighbor's place and he complains that it would essentially be like stealing, which goes against his code. She points out the stolen ambulance he's been driving around in, but by then she's pretty much over it and leaves him to sort out his feelings on his own. It turns out he's not above using their phone. And when he asks the hive member who answers to talk to the person Carol was talking to, you know, things are going to take a turn. The setup is fantastic because it gives us a chance to remember that yeah, Carol was kind of annoying during this meetup, is kind of annoying more broadly, but is also our main character. After dropping her empty vodka glass does the job that the Golden Girls theme couldn't, wakes her up after she passed out on her couch. She realizes that Zosa's car is outside of the house where Manus is staying. She bursts in to see them sitting together talking, the thing she encouraged him to do. Only she didn't mean it like that. She didn't mean he should speak to Zosa, which is kind of rich considering she knows it's the same as him talking to any Hive member. But the kicker is that when she asks what they were talking about, he simply answers, "Toto, everything." She told him everything.
The immediate potential consequences of this have Carol grabbing up Zosa and telling her it's time to leave. And as they go, it starts to set in that they're approaching the point where she's going to have to make a decision. The revelation that his stranger status doesn't change how they treat him, forces Carol to think about how they treat her. She insists it should be different, but on some level always knew it wasn't. While there may be more going on between her and Zosa, whatever that means in this situation, the Hive loves Manus the same as it loves her. It's just what they do. And if it's confusing, she can refer back to the initial list she wrote on her whiteboard. Number three, doesn't play faves. Loves all jerks the same. It's a lot to process, but there isn't time. Because as soon as they left him, Manus picked up the phone and ordered a replacement. While Carol was asking Zosa what she had told him, we saw the headlights of a car pull up. And by the time they reached the pivotal point in their conversation, something was already happening next door. Just as Carol almost reaches the point of calling Zosa her partner, pulling back to default to calling Zosa her chaperone, but then adding the word "mine" to say the quiet part out loud, Manus starts putting what he learned into action. As Zosa reassures her that it's true, she is her chaperone. With the hint that she acknowledges what Carol's implying, she gets distracted and then moves to lie down on the floor as she warns Carol that something is about to happen. Manus has figured out how to make them seize up. And when Carol runs over, she finds him hovering over a Hive member who is shaking on his couch. Manus is examining what's happening. And when Carol tries to get him to stop, he walks out to the ambulance and checks his notebook for the frequency he discovered. He tunes his radio to it, and it sounds different from how it did when we heard it before, until the Hive member wakes up. When that happens, it goes back to normal. Carol is fully committed to protecting the hive and implies that he may have just killed many of them. This barely registers because he thinks he's discovered something and screams at the other again to make the seasoning start over. The radio sound changes immediately. He puts it in the hive member's hands, positions it on his chest, and then tries to talk to him in an attempt to get him to break free. There are no immediate results and Carol ends the session when she grabs the shotgun we watched her stash in her golf bag as she left the country club and fires it into the living room wall.
When she returns home, Zosa wakes up saying she'll be all right, but eventually has to break the news that given the way things played out, the hive has no choice but to leave Albuquerque again. There's another funny beat here where Carol's phone starts to ring. We assume it's Manus, but when Zosa asks if she wants to know who that is, and Carol responds that she already knows without taking her eyes off Zosa, we realize it's Lockshi calling to complain. The hive mobilizes and Zosa leaves. Carol opens the trunk of the Rolls and lets Manus out. For him, it was all worth it. He learned a lot and now believes she's right. They can put things back in place. She hears what he says, but her mind is elsewhere. He can't believe she doesn't want to help him. And we know that he needs her to. He calls out her name, "Carol Sturka." Unknown word in her name, and then pops the big one. The question I said defined the first season. "Do you want to save the world or get the girl?" He asks in Spanish, "Lica Oundo," which is the episode title. Carol doesn't answer. She gets in her car and drives away, leaving the scoreboard at so get the girl one, save the world zero.
With Manus tucked away in her neighborhood and Carol prioritizing some post-apocalyptic comfort over saving humanity, the episode transitions into what can only be described as a whirlwind romantic getaway. We see Carol and Zosa in a montage of shots so idyllic that I wasn't sure if it was a dream sequence at first. That no doubt is the point, as it is a dream for Carol that the hive can make real. Reading Ursula K. Le Guin poolside, walking on a beach in Halong Bay, sharing tea in a bubble bath in an upscale hotel, and skiing in what you have to imagine are pristine mountains. Just the two of them, no one else in sight. This is Carol as we've never seen her. Outwardly happy, visibly content. The misanthrope connects with the world by falling in love with the being that encompasses it for the small cost of abandoning her impulse to make things go back to normal. Of course, that laces it with a sense of impending doom, making it feel like it can't last, which it can't.
During a quiet moment, as they warm themselves by the fireplace, Carol asks Zosa about the happiness chemicals in the human body. Serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin. She observes that she must have every happy chemical in her bloodstream, saying, "I keep thinking it'll go away and I don't want it to." Zosa appears to be right there with her. And depending on how you read it, in a moment that's either the ultimate expression of love or the ultimate expression of the join's biological imperative, she says, "And it only gets better." Carol recognizes Zosa isn't saying our unimaginably great romance will only continue to get better. She says the feeling only gets better and is talking about the joining. Carol goes straight to the idea of consent, that they can only take her stem cells to assimilate her if she gives them permission. Zosa agrees that is technically correct. They can't take them that way. And that brings us back to what most people picked up on in episode 6, the use of lawyerly language when they agreed to not collect stem cells from her body. Carol quickly catches up and asks if there's another way to collect them. Zosa doesn't immediately answer. And this entire conversation is shot with them sharing the frame. Each time it cuts back and forth, you can see both actors as they literally lean into the conversation. It doesn't cut to a straight-on close-up of Carol until she starts to consider what Zosa's non-answer means. She puts things together to confirm what we pretty much knew was coming. It's the eggs. The same ones she froze with Helen years ago, which we were reminded of earlier in the episode. And if you were one of those commenters who felt compelled to say, "That's not how eggs work. They don't contain any stem cells," a process does exist to produce stem cells from eggs, and the hive is officially making it happen. The fact that it isn't much of a surprise doesn't strip the scene of its emotional weight. That comes from Carol's understandably irrational plea, "If you loved me, you wouldn't do this."
This whole exchange is fascinating because as their relationship started to become real in the last episode, the main question was sort of how does that work? How does the idea they introduced that the individual feels and the hive knows apply to what we're watching unfold? It was more about how much of the real Zosa is in there in that moment and then what would happen if they were able to break her free. All compelling questions, but this back and forth reframes it, adding the layer, does it matter if she drank the Kool-Aid? And that's not to say that it's all some massive manipulation. But what she says here is that she believes what she's been feeling since she became a part of this hive is greater than the feeling that anyone could experience in even the most fairy-tale romance. To take it up another notch, she answers Carol's plea that she wouldn't do it if she loved her by saying, "We have to do this because we love you. Because I love you." The shift to making it personal stands out. Even though the hive would know this is precisely what Carol would want to hear, they can't lie to her. They reminded us of this several times in this episode with Manus. The hive can't lie. I'm not sure how you could interpret this any other way than the individual Zosa is saying she loves Carol. But just like Manus's well-worn and practiced mantra fell on deaf ears, the look on Carol's face says this feels a lot more like those smiling weirdos at conversion camp trying to change her than a genuine love connection breaking through the collective's barrier.
This presents a point of no return for Carol. Zosa admits the plan is to convert her in about a month, hopefully not more than two or three. The decision to get the girl is no longer a viable option, and the way it played out restores her faith that individuality is worth fighting for. Leaving becomes the ultimate act of self-preservation, and the new countdown clock they introduced makes rejecting the hive a necessity. What Zosa feels is genuine. She insists she must do this because she loves Carol. But in the context of the Hive's biological imperative, that love is functionally indistinguishable from conversion. While that would certainly break Carol's heart, it makes her choice to leave easy. The only way to retain herself is to fight.
Back in Albuquerque, the old countdown clock tells us it's been 71 days since the joining, or about 2 weeks since Manus arrived, and 3 days since Kusamayu joined the hive. The new clock confirms Manus hasn't been wasting time while Carol was away exploring her cross-cultural relationship. They have a month or slightly longer, and he's been cracking the books in an effort to understand what he learned from his last encounter with the Hive. I looked up all the book titles I could see on his table. As a layman, I would guess he's studying physics to confirm his suspicion that the Hive's telepathy is related to an observable electromagnetic wave phenomenon, and trying to make a sensor or antenna to capture it and find a way to undo the joining. From what we see, he dedicated his time in isolation to picking up where Carol left off before she was left wandering in the desert. We'll have to wait until next season for confirmation on what he's building because the sound of a chopper pulls him away from his research. And shifting the question to whether these two will be better synced up next time around when we see him again.
When we get a look inside the cockpit, we see that Zosa is flying Carol home, and they're transporting a conspicuous metal container. The glow is gone from Carol's face. This is someone who's had some time to let it sink in that while she was running around like a distracted, horny teenager, the hive was working behind the scenes to use the egg she saved for her future with her wife to force her to join the team, which, if you really think about it, is also responsible for killing Helen during the joining. There doesn't seem to be any pretense. Zosa doesn't say anything as she touches down in the cul-de-sac where Carol wrote "come back" to get them to return and drops her off in front of her driveway. They share a final look in the cabin and Carol looks inside one more time before she steps away, but it feels like an end. As Zosha flies off, the absence of any final words between them leaves the dramatic heft on Carol's shoulders and more specifically on Ray Seahorn's face as she watches her go. There's no indication of the hive's perspective on things, which underscores the idea that the ending is all about Carol's individual choice. Watching from a distance at first, it wouldn't be hard for Manus to figure out that this means that things are moving towards plan B or El Mundo. Carol confirms this without fanfare, saying, "You win, we save the world." This is undoubtedly good news, but he can't help but wonder how the metal container fits into the equation. When he asks what it is, Carol deadpans the final definitive reveal, "Adam Bomb," as she keeps walking into her house. This ties back to episode 3 when the DHL guy was forced to tell Carol that they would provide her with an atom bomb if she wanted one. They wouldn't feel good about it, but their reasoning led them to believe it was better to appease Carol than risk upsetting her. Because the last time she glitched them out, 11 million people died. You can add this to the long list of Chekhov's guns in this season, a physical representation of the threat she poses to the hive. Carol's rejection of Lica is not going to stop the hive from pursuing its biological imperative. Once they develop the induced pluripotent stem cells, they will try to assimilate her. So, the bomb's presence might be a necessary deterrent to slow them down.
Back in episode 2, the other immune asks Carol why something needed to be done. She wondered if they meant why save the world. And Mr. Diabate clarified that he meant why does the world need saving? This new world with no crime and peace on Earth. The question implies that the answer might be that the bliss and contentment the hive offers might not be worth the loss of things that make us human. But ultimately, the feelings that question stirs up in you are what's most important. The show has consistently presented us with a series of binary either-or questions. Did Carol break in her isolation or was it part of her plan? Would Manus accept help from the hive or would he die? The title of the finale is the same thing: the girl or the world. In most of these cases, the answer ends up being both or yes, and Carol is forced out of her choice for Lica by the Hive's betrayal, which ultimately leaves her with no option but Elm Mundo. And I still believe them when they say they love everyone and everything the same. Even that little baby goat they left behind in Peru, which is a fine example of how there's a messiness in that much love, too. As I stated many times, if you love everything all the time, it just becomes the same. So, at the end of the first season, the Hive is closer to assimilating the Unjoined and broadcasting its code to the next planet. The only thing that can stop them is two jerks who share a cul-de-sac, and who I should clarify aren't wrong. This feels like a pretty good place to be and I think that's a great place to leave things. Please like this video if you enjoyed it. Please subscribe to my channel if you haven't already and thanks for watching. I'll talk to you.