On June 4, the IndieWire Honors Spring 2026 awards ceremony will honor the creators and stars behind the year's best television series. Selected by IndieWire's editorial team, the IndieWire Honors are a celebration of the creators, artists, and performers behind acclaimed shows. Ahead of the Los Angeles event, IndieWire is highlighting their work with new interviews and tributes from fellow creators.
Next, Vince Gilligan tells IndieWire about the creative chemistry, emotional trust, and unique on-screen presence that made Best Actress winner Rhea Seehorn the centerpiece of his new Apple TV series, Pluribus.
I've been fortunate to work with so many amazing actors across numerous shows, from The X-Files to Breaking Bad to Better Call Saul. So I don't say what I'm about to say lightly: there's something about Rhea Seehorn that sets her apart.
She can do it all. She can be incredibly dramatic, but she's also one of the funniest people I've ever met. She has the full spectrum of talent, everything you could want in an artist. But it's not just about skill. It's about her worldview.
She has an incredible work ethic. She truly wants to be the best artist she can be. She might not call herself that, but she's an artist through and through. And she approaches acting seriously and in the most positive way. It's never annoying, never overdone.
She's also one of the most generous actresses I've ever met. A supporting actor will show up on set with one scene, someone who's listed on the cast list for maybe ten minutes, and Rhea will walk right up to them, introduce herself, and say, "Would you like to rehearse our lines together?" She does it because she wants the work to be good—not just her work, but the work of the entire show. You feel that difference. It's important.
When Peter Gould and I first cast Rhea in Better Call Saul, frankly, we didn't really understand what we had. We thought, "Jimmy McGill could probably use a little love interest, we really like this actress, we'll see if it works. And if it doesn't, we'll write her off. An accident, getting fired, something." That's how casual we were about it. I'm embarrassed to admit it now.
Rhea Seehorn and Vince Gilligan, winner of the Paddy Chayefsky Award for Best Television Series, pose in the press room during the 2025 Writers Guild Awards at The Beverly Hilton Hotel on February 15, 2025 in Beverly Hills, California. (Photo: Getty Images)
It was the same with Aaron Paul on Breaking Bad. It was about Walter White, and I thought Jesse Pinkman would maybe drag Walt into the world of crime, and then we'd kill him—great dramatic premise. And then I fell in love with the guy. It was the same evolution with Rhea. We thought Kim Wexler might evolve into something more, and maybe not. And, damn, she did. Both times, it was a miracle. The show became a two-parter. And it's all thanks to her.
This is what I think makes Rhea extraordinary, beyond her skill, hard work, and generosity: you can see everything she's thinking a mile away. Every thought, every feeling, is projected clearly and fully. The pinnacle of this art form, whether on television or film, is when you can write a scene without dialogue and hire actors who can convey it completely. Because that's how people really live. Eight times out of ten, we don't say what we think. Of course, not directly. The best drama lives in that space. And when you find an actor who can convey a character's inner world without words, you hold on tight.
Last season, we shot an episode called "The Chasm"—the seventh episode of "Pluribus"—in which Rhea and Carlos Manuel Vesca, one in New Mexico, the other traveling through South America, are alone, barely speaking to each other for long stretches of time. Both are absolutely captivating. Minutes pass. Not a word. And you can't take your eyes off them.
There's one more thing I want to say, because it's important and often overlooked: it's harder for women in this business to do what Rhea does instinctively. It's easier for a male actor to say, "Ruin me, make me look bad, I don't care how I look." The world is unfair, and the industry reflects that. Rhea doesn't care one bit. She just wants to do her job well. She wants the show to be good—not just her performance, but the show itself. That distinction is far rarer than it should be.
I'm not going to claim to have discovered her. Anyone with the gift of vision quickly noticed how talented she was. Theater directors, sitcom directors, and screenwriters knew about her long before I met her. I'm just another link in that chain. I'm proud to have been able to put her name at the top of the acting charts, where it belongs and where it should remain.
She is who she is. She treats the minibus drivers the same way she treats me. The same way she treats the young women who set the tables for the catering. It's not surprising, but we all live in the real world and know that's not the case. And that's refreshing in its own way, even though it shouldn't be.
The Pluribus crew would crawl over broken glass for Rhea Seehorn. We all would. And she deserves all the recognition she gets.
The first season of Pluribus is now available to watch on Apple TV.
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