[Header Photo by Ahmed Nishaath on Unsplash]

Starring Charlton Heston, Soylent Green was released in 1973 and set in 2022. Heston, in fact, starred in several classic science fiction films and is the face on some of the most memorable scenes and lines in cinema, including the Big Reveal in Soylent Green:

This film perfectly demonstrates the cross-genre power of blending science fiction and horror, usually a sort of slow boil horror pervading everything else in the film.

Heston starred in Planet of the Apes, but also Omega Man, released a couple years before Soylent Green. Omega Man is very much a slow boil film that emphasizes being terrifyingly alone as a human (also a key motif of Planet of the Apes).

Watching the first season of Pluribus, I was reminded of these classic science fiction films because of the motifs shared as well as some disturbing direct connections (more of that below). The main character, Carol, plays the role of “last human” similar to the Heston films above.

The horror here is not only losing her own humanity but also the end of all humanity.

Pluribus has been criticized by some as being too slow, but for me, that pace is essential for the dread that Carol feels, the existential angst that is her character even though for much of the first season she feels relatively safe because of the strict moral code exhibited by the infected (all but about a dozen are infected or dead).

I think Pluribus can be viewed (and read) many ways, but I have seen several posts noting that the show may be a commentary on religious fundamentalism.

I find that lens compelling and see the show as an allegory of religion, a dark satire of black-and-white moral codes and missionary zeal.

Season 1 builds to a Big Reveal in the final episode; that reveal depends strongly on the core elements of the show as an allegory of religion:

• The infected view all life as sacred, likely speaking into the extreme “pro-life” movement that has successfully banned and even criminalized abortion.
• That view of all life as sacred creates for the infected a paradox about their own survival, resulting in one of the most horrifying elements of the show; they consume HDP (human-derived protein) created from deceased humans.
• And the infected are both happy and certain that everyone must join them in that happiness; their relentless niceness and efforts to convert the few remaining uninfected (their moral code requires the remaining humans must consent to the conversion) often feels like some parts Jehovah’s Witnesses and some parts Hare Krishnas.

One of the most well crafted aspects of the show, I think, is Carol proves again and again that she is a miserable human, and possibly a not very endearing person (even before the infection).

The obvious tension of the show, then, is that the infected are eerily and resolutely happy in contrast with Carol’s not-so-subtle perpetual state of misery and anger.

Carol’s seething rage, in fact, threatens the infected in dramatic ways that seem far worse than the power the infected have to convert her (again, she is ostensibly safe due to the moral code of their needing her consent).

This happy motif is far more complex than a clever element to create plot and tension.

Like the religious happiness running through major religions (being religious, the argument goes, brings happiness and contentment to the believers), however, I see the infected as miserable people unable to acknowledge or confront that their happiness is a veneer.

Concurrent with the release of Pluribus, the year 2025 has demonstrated the misery and even hate lurking beneath those most vocal about being religious.

The Trump agenda has knocked down the wall separating church and state with the consequences being anything except happiness for all.

The infected’s moral code seems naive and even a bit silly at first, but there is a Stepford Wives vibe lurking throughout, with both the HDP and final episodes exposing that, yes, this is an alien invasion of the horror kind.

The infected seem the product of some distant higher power, and they, like fundamentalists, have fixed moral codes and an insatiable missionary zeal.

The infected know what is best for everyone.

Few things are more horrifying than their certainty always offered with a smile.

Pluribus isn’t a show about happiness; it is an allegory summarized in a cliche—misery loves company.

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