(Warning: Spoilers ahead.)
It takes Carol Sturka (Rhea Seehorn) eight days to alienate the entire human race in Pluribus.
In this week’s new episode of the Apple TV series, the hive mind community departs Albuquerque because they need a little space. Yes, the Others want to take a break. Given that Carol nearly killed Zosia (Karolina Wydra) during a recent experiment, it is hard to blame them.
The uninfected author is now alone to ruminate further on her investigation into how to reverse this Invasion-of-the-Body-Snatchers-type virus linking the majority of the global population via psychic glue. Call this a one-woman show because Carol has no one to rebuff or spar with after her latest attempt to get answers to this unique apocalypse.
Okay, she isn’t truly alone. Wolves are stalking the neighborhood, looking for food. When Carol takes out the trash, the next port of call for the hunting pack is the freshly dug grave in Carol’s garden. Even in a world with no crime or war, Carol’s nightmare continues, and the Apple TV sci-fi series continues to be one of the year’s best and most thought-provoking—and gasp-worthy.
One of Carol’s defining attributes is her stubbornness. The dozen immune people have mostly welcomed the Others with open arms, but Carol has gone to great lengths to find a cure. Refusing to let them take the body of her romantic partner, Helen (Miriam Shor), is an extension of this. Who knows where the Others took the nearly one billion remains of those who didn’t survive the transformation? Carol sure as s–t isn’t going to let animals chow down on the love of her life.
So far, every episode is a Seehorn showcase, doubling as a reminder that she didn’t win an Emmy for playing Kim Wexler on Better Call Saul (a show that won zero Emmys). Carol is cut from the same protagonist cloth as Carrie Coon’s Nora Durst in The Leftovers, whose rage and grief make a potent mix—another title the Television Academy did not reward.
Creator Vince Gilligan is doing everything to ensure this Emmys mistake isn’t repeated: I’d better see Seehorn on that stage, gold statue in hand, come September 2026. Any episode could be Seehorn’s submission so far, but “Got Milk” is a clear frontrunner. Aside from the opening scene and recorded phone messages, it is a solo outing and one that plays to all of Seehorn’s strengths.
Take the wolves’ first appearance. Carol has not slept in the bed she shared with Helen since the world-changing incident. Passing out on the floor or sofa has been preferable. The minute a tentative Carol finally lays her head down in their bed, she hears a noise from outside. Upon seeing the wolf pack, her repeated “no” speaks to how little time Carol has for the trespassing creatures as she deals with her own pain.
All it takes for the pack to disperse is Carol, angrily yelling from behind a closed door. Problem solved! Okay, that isn’t entirely true. Litter is scattered across the ground, which Carol collects the following day. Because the Others need space, a drone completes tasks. In this case, taking out the trash. It also goes awry because the bag is heavier than the stipulated amount.
Disposing of the garbage in various dumpsters moves the story forward when Carol discovers an unusually high amount of empty milk cartons—and the absence of anything else. The rabbit hole this sends Carol down ends with a discovery that leaves her reeling (we don’t get to see what causes her audible shock). While this is the big cliffhanger, Helen’s grave getting disturbed makes me recoil like Carol.
When the wolves return, Carol is experimenting with the substance she discovered at the dairy—milk is not in those cartons. For once, pouring a glass of Writers’ Tears whiskey (this excellent Irish brand is very real) feels less like deadening her pain and more like a celebratory tipple.
Before she even has a sip, a noise similar to the night before catches her attention. Throughout this episode, Seehorn has the challenge of acting (and reacting) alone; the way her face subtly shifts as she scans the backyard before seeing what the wolves are targeting is a masterclass in changing emotions. Her “no” isn’t yelled or a question but a statement of disbelief. The second “No!” at this violation is laced with fury.
Emboldened by an almost-feral protection running through her body, she opens the door to stare down the predators with little worry for her safety. Quickly, Carol realizes she has misjudged the scenario. The delivery of swear words is one I consider to be an art form, and Seehorn already proved in Better Call Saul that she is one of our best. As the wolves show their teeth and snarl in her direction, the elongated “f—” is music to my ears.
Running back into the house cranks up the tension and horror: Carol versus the home invaders. Except they aren’t trying to get inside, and the golf club she is holding is not enough. The police cruiser that Carol has been driving contains the necessary weapon. Unfortunately, Carol can’t free the shotgun from its rack.
Much like a scary movie heroine (aka the Final Girl), Carol finds an alternative. In this case, the car is the quickest way to handle the hunting pack. With the sirens blaring, she drives through the fence without any wolf getting harmed in the process. Helen is still dead, but her resting place is safe. Relief, adrenaline, and the heartbreaking reminder that Helen is gone reverberate through Carol’s shaking body.
Watching Carol’s ‘getting s–t done’ mode proves she is long past getting wasted and watching Golden Girls DVDs (though I would understand, after this incident, if she returns to comfort TV). A trip to the hardware store offers a solution to the scavenger problem. It almost feels like Carol is auditioning for HGTV, if such a network still existed. She lays paving stones on top of Helen’s resting place. Rather than put another real orchid on top, Carol paints a flower as a permanent marker that won’t get eaten.
The emotionally and physically taxing experience leaves its mark on Carol. But the day isn’t done. Having already established Carol’s tenacious streak means that her trip to the supermarket to scan the barcode of a mysterious feed bag isn’t out of character.
It is also the most overt reference to The X-Files, underscoring Gilligan’s deep TV roots. The final sequence heads down a Mulder and Scully path, with Carol and a bright torch entering a food warehouse and a creepy storage room, where a plastic tarp covers produce. Cutting to black, then hearing a gasp has me clamoring for the next episode. Still, while new horrors await Carol, nothing will be as heartbreaking—and a reminder of her solitude—as having to protect Helen over and over again.
