The world is ending in seven months. A massive planet is hurtling toward Earth, and there is absolutely nothing anyone can do about it. No Bruce Willis, no nuclear missiles, no last-minute scientific miracles. Just a countdown. Most people in this situation go understandably wild. They skydive without parachutes, they do all the drugs, they have massive orgies in the street, or they travel to the most remote corners of the globe to "find themselves" before the lights go out.
Then there’s Carol.
Carol & The End of the World isn't your typical apocalypse story. Created by Dan Guterman—who worked on Rick and Morty and The Colbert Report—this Netflix limited series is a bizarre, meditative, and surprisingly hilarious look at what happens when you just want a routine while the world burns. Carol Kohl, a soft-spoken, middle-aged woman in a sea of hedonism, doesn't want to party. She doesn't want to "live every day like it's her last." Honestly, she just wants to find a stable job and maybe some printer toner.
It’s a vibe. A very specific, quiet, beige vibe.
The terrifying comfort of the mundane
Most end-of-the-world fiction focuses on the "bang." We want to see the tidal waves hitting New York or the chaos in the streets. But this show focuses on the "whimper." When the Keppler planet first appeared in the sky, humanity went through its collective crisis, but by the time we meet Carol, everyone has settled into a state of manic "living." They’re checking off bucket lists with a desperate, sweaty intensity.
Carol is different. She's "boring."
She wanders through her life feeling a profound sense of guilt because she isn't having the time of her life. Her parents are living on a cruise ship in a throuple with their nurse. Her sister is jumping out of planes and filming it for a nonexistent audience. Carol? Carol just wants to find a place where she can belong without the pressure of being "extraordinary." This leads her to "The Distraction," a mysterious, windowless office building where people show up to perform meaningless administrative tasks.
It's a brilliant commentary on corporate culture. In a world with no future, the most rebellious thing you can do is file paperwork. The Distraction offers something the outside world can't: a sense of normalcy. There’s something deeply human about the way the office workers cling to their cubicles. They aren't there for the paycheck—money is worthless now. They’re there for the rhythmic clicking of keyboards and the shared frustration of a jammed copier.
✨ Don't miss: Temuera Morrison as Boba Fett: Why Fans Are Still Divided Over the Daimyo of Tatooine
Why the animation style actually matters
If you look at the show, it has this very distinct, "thick-line" aesthetic. It looks a bit like a Sunday morning comic strip from the 90s, or maybe something you’d see on Adult Swim at 2:00 AM. This wasn't an accident. The visual style, handled by Bardel Entertainment, feels grounded and intentionally un-flashy.
It contrasts perfectly with the neon-soaked, chaotic world outside. When Carol is in her apartment or at the office, the colors are muted, almost dusty. When the show cuts to the "extinction hedonists" outside, the world is a blur of motion and bright lights. This visual storytelling does a lot of the heavy lifting. You feel Carol's sensory overload. You understand why she finds a windowless office so soothing.
The character designs are also wonderfully "average." Carol isn't a Hollywood version of a plain woman; she looks like someone you’d see at a CVS at 10:00 PM buying unscented laundry detergent. Martha Kelly’s voice performance is the secret sauce here. Her deadpan, slightly shaky delivery makes Carol’s small victories feel monumental. When she finally learns a coworker's name, it feels as high-stakes as a season finale of an action show.
Addressing the "nothing happens" criticism
I’ve heard people complain that the show is slow. They aren't wrong, but they're missing the point.
Carol & The End of the World is a show about the space between the big moments. It’s an exploration of the "liminal space." There is an entire episode dedicated to Carol trying to find a specific brand of BBQ sauce. Another episode follows her sister, Elena, as she travels the world, but even that feels melancholic because it’s fueled by a fear of standing still.
The show asks a really uncomfortable question: If you knew the world was ending, would you actually change?
Most of us like to think we’d become these bold, adventurous versions of ourselves. But the reality is that many of us would just be scared and looking for a way to kill time. The show treats this with incredible empathy. It doesn't judge the people partying, but it fiercely defends the people who just want to do the dishes.
🔗 Read more: Why Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy Actors Still Define the Modern Spy Thriller
The "Distraction" and the myth of productivity
The office in the show is a fascinating metaphor for how we use work to avoid our own thoughts. The workers at The Distraction don't even know what the company does. They just know they have to be there at 9:00 AM.
As the series progresses, you start to see the cracks. People start to care about things that don't matter—like who stole whose stapler or the office Christmas party. It’s a microcosm of human society. We build structures to keep the existential dread at bay. In our real world, we do this for retirement funds or promotions. In Carol’s world, they do it just to stay sane for the next seven months.
It’s a bit of a mirror to our current "quiet quitting" or "hustle culture" debates. Are we working to live, or are we working because we don't know what else to do with our hands?
Surprising depth in the side characters
While Carol is the anchor, the show thrives on its ensemble. You have Eric, the sensitive father struggling to connect with his son in a world that has no future for children. Then there's Donna, the tough-as-nails office worker who eventually becomes Carol’s friend.
The show takes these tropes and softens them.
There is a beautiful sequence involving a "lost" ship and a search for a person who probably doesn't want to be found. It’s these tangents that make the show feel like a real world. It’s not just a linear path to the end of the globe; it’s a web of people trying to find a reason to wake up tomorrow morning, even if "tomorrow" is a shrinking resource.
Is it a comedy or a tragedy?
Yes.
💡 You might also like: The Entire History of You: What Most People Get Wrong About the Grain
Honestly, it’s both. There are moments of genuine absurdity—like a massive group of people trying to recreate a famous painting in the middle of a wasteland—that will make you laugh. But then there’s a scene where Carol sits alone in her apartment, and the silence is so heavy you can feel it in your chest.
It’s "existential dread: the sitcom."
It reminds me a bit of The Good Place or Bojack Horseman, where the humor is a vehicle for some pretty heavy philosophical lifting. It’s about the "absurd hero," a concept from Albert Camus. Camus argued that the world is inherently meaningless, and the only way to find freedom is to acknowledge that and keep going anyway. Carol is the ultimate Sisyphean hero. She’s pushing the boulder up the hill, but she’s doing it with a smile (or at least a mild, polite expression).
The real-world impact and why you should care
We live in a time where the news feels like a constant "end of the world" reel. Climate change, political instability, global health crises—it's a lot. Carol & The End of the World feels like a hug for the overwhelmed. It tells you that it’s okay to be small. It’s okay to not be "living your best life" every second of every day.
Sometimes, just being kind to a coworker or learning a new hobby is enough. Even if the world is ending. Especially if the world is ending.
The show didn't get the massive marketing push of something like Stranger Things, but it has developed a cult following for a reason. It respects the viewer's intelligence. It doesn't over-explain the apocalypse. It just lets you sit in it with Carol.
How to actually enjoy the show (Actionable Insights)
If you're going to dive into Carol's world, don't binge it while scrolling on your phone. You’ll miss the tiny details in the background—the weird signs, the subtle character movements, the visual gags.
- Watch the "The Distraction" episode (Episode 2) twice. It sets the tone for the entire series and contains most of the core philosophy.
- Pay attention to the music. The soundtrack is curated to feel both nostalgic and slightly "off," mirroring the feeling of a world that is out of time.
- Don't wait for a "twist." This isn't a mystery box show. There’s no secret government plot to stop the planet. The ending is fixed. The journey is the only thing that matters.
- Look for the "Easter eggs" in the office. The paperwork they are doing is actually consistent if you look closely at the frames. It’s a testament to the animators' dedication to the bit.
- Reflect on your own "Distraction." Ask yourself what routines you cling to when things get stressful. Is it a specific game? A way you organize your desk? The show is a great prompt for some mild self-reflection.
Stop looking for the "next big thing" and spend a little time with the most average woman on Earth. You might find that Carol has more to teach us about living than any "life coach" jumping out of a plane on Instagram.