Don’t miss the magnetic Rhea Seehorn in Vince Gilligan’s Pluribus, the Australian version of hit UK comedy Ghosts and Aimee Lou Wood’s next move after The White Lotus.
Pluribus ★★★★½ (Apple TV)
Time after time in Vince Gilligan’s canonised crime drama Breaking Bad, there appeared to be no way out for teacher-turned-methamphetamine-baron Walter White, only for an escape hatch to be ingeniously revealed. Gilligan’s fascinating new show, the science-fiction conundrum Pluribus, reverses that. Set in a radically altered world of today, the show is so awash with possibilities that the boundaries are never clear. That this puzzle box is nonetheless compelling is testament to the masterful control exerted by Gilligan and star Rhea Seehorn.
Rhea Seehorn in Pluribus.
Exactly what changed life on this planet is one of the show’s many secrets, but it’s safe to say it unfolds with gripping precision and there’s an unlikely exception to this turning point: Seehorn’s Carol Sturka. An author with self-loathing issues, Carol is the bewildered bellwether for the audience – her WTF moments, and there are many, are also ours. If Walter White was the definitive 2010s anti-hero, Carol is the apt 2025 hero. She’s confused, quick to snarl and convinced something must be done, even when no one else agrees.
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Seehorn, who was quietly magnetic in Gilligan’s Breaking Bad prequel, Better Call Saul, carries Pluribus. She’s in virtually every scene, often by herself, and her reactions guide the narrative through a raft of genres. The narrative folds in otherworldly horror, the blackest of humour, and wrenching loss, but the transitions never jar, even if you’re sometimes left with your own nagging what-if scenarios. Seehorn reveals how someone might actually think about the unthinkable, and what that can do to their flaws.
Set, like Gilligan’s previous hits, in the desert city of Albuquerque, the project certainly carries his stamp. There are, for example, Gilligan’s signature cold opens to episodes that eerily linger over what unfolds. The narrative is exceptionally good at not going in the direction you guess. A concept that suggests control will instead be a gateway to vulnerability, and as the season unfolds – the first six episodes were available for review – there is an unexpected presence amid the new world order: positivity.
Rhea Seehorn in Pluribus, the series written for her by Vince Gilligan.Credit: Apple TV
Scale takes hold in beguiling ways. The spaciousness of Albuquerque is the ideal backdrop for mass choreography, but beyond that, Pluribus is always contrasting the individual and the whole. At times, it feels as if Carol’s quest is a form of therapy session in which her intimate privacy is opened up to global scrutiny. Will the show be too conceptual for some? Possibly. But as we’ve recently learnt from Baby Reindeer and Severance, few tales are as arresting as a staggering shift in reality. Pluribus takes that huge swing and connects.
Rowan Witt as Sean and Tamala as Kate in Ghosts Australia.
Ghosts Australia ★★★ (Paramount+)
As pioneered by the creative troupe Them There, the supernatural sitcom Ghosts is a wonderful concept: young couple inherit a crumbling mansion, plus the ghosts of those who died on the property over the centuries, only for an accident to make one of the newcomers a medium who can interact with the self-obsessed spirits. The original British version was delightfully silly, the American hit has a sharp comic energy, and for now, the new Australian edition is solid.
If you haven’t seen an iteration of Ghosts before, then the set-up of young professional couple Kate (Tamala) and Sean (Rowan Witt) discovering the many spectral lodgers of Ramshead Manor has a blithe charm. Gideon (Brent Hill) is a pompous British officer from the Third Fleet, while Miranda (Ines English) is a snooty escapee from My Brilliant Career. The different eras and outlooks of the half-dozen main ghosts makes for farcical friction.
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If, like me, this is your third go-around with the show, then you’re waiting for the Australian team to put their stamp on the comic storytelling. There are progressive hints over the first four episodes, which isn’t surprising. Ghosts is a surreptitiously broad canvas, whether in terms of cultural commentary or otherworldly plot twists; the pithiness can even be slyly matched with pathos. Sticking with this franchise has always been rewarded.
Aimee-Lou Wood and Suranne Jones in Film Club.
Film Club ★★★ (Binge)
In Daddy Issues and The White Lotus, Aimee Lou Wood plays a cheerfully lippy straight shooter. Possibly to showcase her range, the British actor has created this fanciful if melancholy-tinged comedy in which she stars as Evie, a young woman from Manchester who hasn’t left home since a mental health setback that’s only referred to in shorthand.
Living with her unsettling mother, Suz (Suranne Jones), Evie’s crutch is an elaborate weekly film screening in the garage with best friend Noa (Nabhaan Rizwan). When that status quo is threatened, an awkward resolution is set off.
Jack Patten in Robin Hood
Robin Hood ★★½ (Stan)
The outlaw character of Robin Hood has been a part of English folklore for more than 600 years, and there have been numerous screen adaptations in the past 100 or so, so it’s not altogether surprising this latest version can sometimes struggle to escape the generic. Emphasising the 12th-century divide between the Norman rulers and the Saxon population, this is a mix of rebellion and romance with Braveheart echoes. Robin (Australian Jack Patten), Marian (Lauren McQueen), and the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham (Sean Bean) all deliver as fans of the genre would hope.
Leo Suter and Sofia Barclay in Lynley.
Lynley ★★★ (BritBox)
As a case-of-the-week crime mystery, the 90-minute episodes in the BBC’s reboot of its 2000s mainstay The Inspector Lynley Mysteries are efficiently paced and structurally sound; there’s genuine detective work required.
But the show is truly powered by the fractious dynamics between its leads, Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley (Leo Suter) and Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers (Sofia Barclay). He’s the Oxford-educated son of an earl, and she’s a working-class woman of colour – there are enough misconceptions and barbs to make their personal feelings lag behind their professional respect.
Tessa Thompson in Hedda.
Hedda ★★★★ (Amazon Prime Video)
US filmmaker Nia DaCosta bounces back from the superhero misfire The Marvels with this feisty, emotionally sinuous take on desire and agency. Transposing Henrik Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler from the late 19th century to a 1950s English country house, the film stars Tessa Thompson in the title role as the wife of a craven academic, George Tesman (Tom Bateman). Hedda is hosting a grand party to benefit George’s career, but that becomes subordinate to her personal pleasure when her former lover Eileen Lovborg (Nina Hoss) turns up. The machinations, like the camera’s movement, are elegant.
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