The first season of Pantheon is a classic example of a show that got lost in the deluge of Stuff, a heady animated sci-fi thriller based on a collection of short stories by Ken Liu that didn’t quite get the attention it deserved. While it was originally greenlit for two seasons at AMC+ and HIDIVE, it got canceled partway through the production of its second batch of episodes and was eventually removed from these services altogether. But that wasn’t the end of the show’s convoluted journey. Amazon Prime Video picked it up and brought the second season over the finish line before releasing it exclusively in… New Zealand and Australia for some reason?
But wait, there’s more! After Prime Video also dropped it from their service, Netflix picked the show up last year and is finally releasing season two in the US. And much like its real-world journey, this run of episodes goes places no one could expect, interrogating what it means to be human amidst rapid technological change before swerving in an awe-inspiring direction. It also crams way too much into its last three episodes. In some ways, it’s a bit of a mess, but a rather brain-expanding one.
For those who didn’t catch the first season on one of its many streaming services, the story follows two tech geniuses teens, Maddie (Katie Chang) and Caspian (Paul Dano), who are pulled into a Silicon Valley-fueled conspiracy. Specifically, events kick into motion after an Apple/Microsoft-esque tech company called Logorhythms discovers something with massive implications: they’ve found a way to upload human minds into a machine. Of course, there’s the little caveat that this process kills the uploader because the method of “transferring” people into the cloud involves scanning their brain with a deadly laser, but for those willing to undergo the procedure, immortality is within reach. Unsurprisingly, the new beings created from the process, known as Uploaded Intelligences (UIs), introduce a whole host of ethical questions and practical concerns—intelligence agencies almost immediately start using UIs to conduct deadly hacking attacks. The second season picks up after the existence of this technology goes public, causing a massive global panic.
While the first season began to portray the masses’ reactions to these sudden paradigm shifts, the second successfully doubles down on this by capturing the anxiety and unrest of suddenly being thrust into the future. It all feels grounded and deeply inspired by recent events, as red-tied politicians appeal towards ignorance by implying that all this talk of UIs is a “hoax” and that they should immediately turn back on the internet (which was switched off to silo the Uis) so they can “fix” the economy.
As societies across the world reel from these events, Caspian and Maddie find themselves on the run from the dastardly tech company behind these innovations, as the series smoothly transitions from last season’s high school drama to being a full-blown paranoid techno-thriller. It works because this story has been preoccupied with the terrifying reach and influence of modern tech companies from the start, making it easy to believe what they’re capable of when our protagonists end up in their crosshairs.
But beyond working as an exciting page-turner, Pantheon’s greatest aims are more cerebral, centered around one of sci-fi’s classic questions: what makes us human? The UIs, now unfettered from physical forms, reckon with their new existences. Is it our ability to experience the physical world that makes us who we are? Is it the inevitability of death or something else altogether? The series pushes on these transhumanist inquiries in subversive ways, approaching these concepts from multiple angles as the cast grapples with these dilemmas and others, like questions of genetic determinism and how to balance political relations between UIs and their fleshy counterparts.
These philosophical inquiries are quite head-scratching, but what really elevates them is how Maddie and Caspian’s journey takes these questions from abstract hypotheticals to emotionally devastating choices that impact their loved ones. Yes, there is an abundance of jargon (the series is not afraid to throw real-world computer science terms at you), but it often feels like the script is working in a language of compassion rather than one of tech mumbo jumbo. For instance, Maddie and Caspian’s motivations are often centered around family, given that the former’s dad was uploaded and the latter is stuck in a Truman Show situation, making the stakes relatable despite how theoretical and abstract the proceedings eventually become.
Similarly, there are plenty of fascinating explorations of what it means to live as an uploaded person. Perhaps the best example is a love story between former rivals who come to fully know and directly empathize with each other in ways that were impossible before, experiencing each other’s memories firsthand. Along the way, these digital worlds are realized through animation that livens up these ideas with fantastical sights and fights: we witness worlds of impossible architecture, and eventually, there is a series of reality-bending action scenes where a guy who looks like Steve Jobs is framed like Darth Vader as he blasts our protagonists through digital buildings.
However, while I’m sure most of the big beat-em-up scenes will be crowd-pleasers, the absolutely gonzo final few episodes will likely prove a tad more divisive. On the one hand, the series packs in way too much during this frantic stretch, hurriedly wrapping up existing storylines and cramming in exposition to bring us up to speed, only to then jolt in another direction. I imagine this is a somewhat deliberate storytelling decision to represent how it feels to live through exponential leaps in technology, but in the process, these leaps hurdle over the characters and conflicts we were invested in.
However, at the same time, this denouement is also a staggering, galaxy-sized swing that goes to some truly fascinating places, contrasting the mind-boggling hugeness of the universe against a desperate and very human decision. These final few episodes have the density of a neutron star, recontextualizing the story through a sequence that mirrors the famously phantasmagorical conclusions of 2001: A Space Odyssey and Neon Genesis Evangelion before heading off a climax that is tragic, hopeful, and very messy. But perhaps most impressively, the finale takes a topic that sounds like something a college stoner would bring up while desperately trying to be profound and wrings genuine thematic and emotional substance out of it, honing in on the planet-destroying weight of human grief. Thankfully, despite its cancellation, this story has a definitive ending; sure, it could have used another season to get there, but it still leaves an impact.
In some ways, Pantheon’s reach exceeded its grasp. It tried to layer multiple overlapping storylines alongside grandiose questions of free will, consciousness, and digital existence. The plot somewhat inelegantly switched modes at the 11th hour, stuffing in as many ideas as it could before credits rolled. But even despite its issues, this story aimed for the stars, melding its high-flying ideas with affecting drama. The result is an ambitious, imperfect, and thought-provoking sci-fi series that forces you to stop and look toward the future, however uncertain and frightening that may be.
Pantheon Season 2 (re)premieres February 21 on Netflix.
Elijah Gonzalez is an assistant Games and TV Editor for Paste Magazine. In addition to playing and watching the latest on the small screen, he also loves film, creating large lists of media he’ll probably never actually get to, and dreaming of the day he finally gets through all the Like a Dragon games. You can follow him on Bluesky @elijahgonzalez.bsky.social.
