At this point in the film, it is undeniable that the photography and settings in Vince Gilligan's series are especially carefully crafted (Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul are good examples of this). His latest creation, the intriguing dystopia of Pluribus, offers a panorama inspired by the technological advances of contemporary society that relies on science as a fundamental pillar, which makes possible in the plot the detection of an extraterrestrial signal 600 light-years away or work with the genome in advanced laboratories. Avant-garde or futuristic-tinted architecture usually accompanies plots of this nature to reinforce that sense of palpable novelty. This is observed in films like Passengers, Ex Machina, or in many episodes of Black Mirror.
However, this is not the case in Pluribus, or at least not in the protagonist's domestic environment. Carol Sturka, a writer of romantic and fantasy novels, lives in a housing development on the outskirts of Albuquerque where the dwellings share an aesthetic based on earthy tones that show their wooden structures to the exterior, totally distant from the futuristic concept. Carol lives at the end of the cul-de-sac, the last dwelling in the development, which in some way gives her the necessary singularity of the series protagonist, but which is actually just another house in the suburban development model. Inside, wooden beams supported on corbels with volutes can be observed. The walls, between segmental arches, present light earth tones with attenuated and rounded edges more typical of traditional architecture than the sharp and rectilinear strokes of futuristic forms, and their materials reproduce plasters and stuccoes instead of pure and modern metallic whites.
Indeed, the protagonist's house is in the style that Americans came to call colonial. Specifically, it resembles Castilian dwellings whose model the Spanish reproduced in America since the late 15th century. This house in New Mexico drinks from past models by reproducing its aesthetic elements that identify it. However, the organizational structure and distribution are alien to those traditional models, so in the end this colonial style in Carol's dwelling could be seen as an artifact, a historicist-tinted coating on a contemporary suburban house.
This can be interpreted as a dissonance sought by Gilligan, another touch of originality in this dystopia, or perhaps he is trying to convey to us that the taste for these revivals in certain contexts is precisely a sign of our time and a forecast for the near future. In the following image, a ceiling of log beams and gypsum vault can be observed, typical of traditional Spanish architecture. However, the large windows are a clear contribution of our time.
There is also an intention to show certain pavements applied in spaces that we would not precisely consider the most noble in the house. Thus, in Carol's bathroom, a very interesting hydraulic tile floor appears. Let's remember that this type of tile emerged in Spain in the mid-19th century and enriched lounges and various rooms with its colorful and varied patterns.
In any case, it is curious that in the second episode of the series, the Calatrava-esque Bilbao airport was chosen as the meeting place for characters of various nationalities. In this case, it does add a futuristic touch that moves away from the domestic and serves as a meeting scenario for a few individuals who have escaped the pluribus. The land from which the architecture reproduced in the Albuquerque dwellings originates, converted into an emblem of modernity. Without a doubt, Gilligan's visual games and great style never cease to amaze me.