Black Mirror returns to our silver screens in 2023 after a four-year absence in what is undoubtedly a very different cultural environment, a post-Covid, post-post modernism, post-AI explosion media landscape. Its first two episodes take square aim at the viewer itself, with the ad campaign for 'Joan is Awful' quite literally plastering the audience's own names and photos (consensually acquired, of course) in public spaces, reminding us of the slippery slope of big tech's increasing encroachment into our personal lives, but also our complicity in this process in the name of entertainment. 'Loch Henry's' found-footage horror is a neat little tale in itself, but pulls back in its denouement to award the episode BAFTA honours in a fictional ceremony, the meta twist affixing scrutiny on the exploitative nature of the true crime genre; content for the sake of content. The Streamberry branding emblazoned front and centre on both of these stories makes it clear that Brooker is turning on the hand that feeds. Some lament how obvious this is and would rather the episodes remain enclosed; others feel that they don't go far enough, ultimately indulging in the same pop allure that it critiques. For what it's worth, these narratives have more integrity than Bandersnatch, provoking thought beyond an absent press of your remote under the guise of interactivity.
These are more than gimmicks, to be sure. Much of the bemoaning from season 6's audience has less to do with the episodes themselves and more on the loss of the series' thematic cohesion, no longer a cautionary tale on the pitfalls of technology. But is that what solely keeps the Black Mirror name respectable? You'll notice that each of the five new stories take place either in the present, or in the case for the remaining three episodes, in the past. 'Beyond the Sea' is a taut, locked room of a thriller taking place in the 60s, its sci-fi aesthetic ripped straight from Kubrick, but its dissection of toxic masculinity and ego isn't dissimilar to how some still view woman in this day and age (something something Roe v. Wade). 'Mazey Day' instantly dates itself through a reference to Suri Cruise's birth, and while its surprise supernatural twist does pull the rug from under our feet, dispelling much tension and internal logic, the core message of resisting dehumanisation, even of the ultra-rich and privileged, still resonates. If this is the worst BM episode, then that's a pretty solid bar (I still haven't rewatched 'The Waldo Moment', but no doubt its prescience rings truer and a lot less cynical than in those halcyon days of 2013, which feels far longer ago than a mere decade). So whilst this new turn may not be predominantly speculative fiction, those reflections in the mirror still lurk beneath the surface of our current reality. Give me this any day over the easy caricatures of something like The Boys, satire so smug that it can barely conceal the congratulatory pat on the back that it offers its viewers for recognising its skewering of corporate commodification.
Sometimes, that mirror isn't black, but red. So begins 'Demon 79', the final, near feature-length film harking back to a time in Britain when folks were a bit more obvious about their racism, when you could push a man into the canal and the police would have no idea, and when danger lurked behind each cottage corner. Toby Haynes developed his period-piece chops with BBC and nails the visual 'texture' of the era from the opening shot: the flickering, grainy footage, the screeching sound design, the overly ornate title card that all but jumps at you, and those unnerving zoom shots (you might be reminded of British horror classics with similar moods such as Don't Look Now and The Wicker Man). When Nida, our meek store clerk protagonist, first experiences an imaginary moment of fleeting bloodlust, wishing to strangle a leering and inappropriate customer, violin strings shriek as the camera thrusts us up close into her expression, a vicious grin accompanied by gleaming eyes that wouldn't be out of place in some retro cartoon serial. She practically eats him up; delicious, delicious stuff. Upon being banished to the basement on account of not eating "normal food" (the first of a series of racial microaggressions against Nida, who shares a last name with Brooker's wife - surely reflective of real-life experiences), she discovers an ancient talisman and, pricking her finger and drawing blood, inadvertently summons a demon-in-training, Gaap.
Most of us have experienced these 'call of the void' moments before, and many have even imagined having a demon accomplice who will grant us the destructive power to wield and carry out our own karmic justice. It's not a new trope, but Brooker's take keeps it fresh because of how the script squeezes every bit of dark humour out of the premise (Nida's slap fight in the kitchen where both flail at each other, unwilling to fully engage - hilarious until it's not). The back-and-forth between Anjana Vasan and Paapa Essiedu is an ironic delight, the latter first appearing as a stock-standard demon, complete with curled horns and an echoing, smoky voice, before settling for a more appropriate avatar for the mortal world: Bobby Farrell from Boney M. Never has hellspawn been so sexy, and in bell-bottoms and 6-inch heels, too. For all the talk of the dreaded Americanisation of Black Mirror after moving over to Netflix, his performance encapsulates the essence of British deadpan, his delivery bone dry (see how his call to hell's 'tech support' could be taken straight out of a Monday morning in the office). If much of contemporary spec fic is cynical and overly self-serious in its warnings, 'Demon 79' finds the right note of whimsy, recognising the inherent comedy in connecting with your own personal spectral assistant.
Vasan is crucial here, able to portray the introverted sales assistant who witnesses the dredges of society stroll in and out of the department store each day without completely obscuring the murderous potential that lies within her. Less subtle is David Shields as the episode's 'big bad', his character more or less representative of the rise of conservative neo-fascist politics masquerading as populism; see the imagery of his futuristic rise with its Orwellian branding and tripartite slogan (CONTROL. RESPECT. ORDER.). We've seen this allegory before, perhaps most explicitly in this context with V for Vendetta. We can identify when the narrative switches from Nida's individualistic acts of sanctioned violence to what is really necessary to make a difference: a hammer-delivered bludgeon to the skull of systemic oppression. It's no surprise that Nida's subconscious manifests Gaap as a PoC, or that he rolls his eyes when Smart and the department store owner banter over their familial connections; both are already enshrined in privilege, despite the former presenting himself as a man of the people. No, what's perhaps most novel about 'Demon 79' is that in its close we have unwittingly assumed Nida's role and warped self-righteousness, buying into the very evil (complicity, insularity) that she claims to reject. The episode's premise only works if we can recognise a hint of that within ourselves. I thought it would commit to that idea fully, given the disappearance of Gaap for about 10 minutes before the final sequence, but alas, he does return to give us a reunion. It's lovely, and maybe the glimmer of hope that Nida deserves, but I might have preferred that they kept it a touch more ambiguous, rather than letting her off the hook entirely (smash cut from that clock hitting midnight and a needle drop to Rasputin would have been perfect). What if Gaap didn't return? Or was he even real from the beginning? What if, in the pursuit of justice, we end up normalising the same tribalism and othering inflicted upon us? That final reunion is cathartic, but too safe. Yes, fascism bad, but other dangers might lie much closer to home.
Black Mirror is and will be fine. In a golden age of television, especially of anthology series, consistency is overrated. Guillermo del Toro's Cabinet of Curiosities might be consistent to a degree in its tone, but I can barely recall anything that it wanted to say. What was the point, similarly, of Peele's Twilight Zone reboot? And yet, I still want them all to keep trying. Each new hour-plus episode of season 6 may as well be its own film, complete with production, shooting, and post. We should accept what is on the screen, rather than trying to define the series by what it is not. It might never shock our system as 'The National Anthem' did back in 2011, the frenetic, mockumentary style a tonic to conventional dramatic television, but it's still pushing the envelope. Look a little closer, because what's reflected in that mirror, black or red, may be closer than we expect.
These are more than gimmicks, to be sure. Much of the bemoaning from season 6's audience has less to do with the episodes themselves and more on the loss of the series' thematic cohesion, no longer a cautionary tale on the pitfalls of technology. But is that what solely keeps the Black Mirror name respectable? You'll notice that each of the five new stories take place either in the present, or in the case for the remaining three episodes, in the past. 'Beyond the Sea' is a taut, locked room of a thriller taking place in the 60s, its sci-fi aesthetic ripped straight from Kubrick, but its dissection of toxic masculinity and ego isn't dissimilar to how some still view woman in this day and age (something something Roe v. Wade). 'Mazey Day' instantly dates itself through a reference to Suri Cruise's birth, and while its surprise supernatural twist does pull the rug from under our feet, dispelling much tension and internal logic, the core message of resisting dehumanisation, even of the ultra-rich and privileged, still resonates. If this is the worst BM episode, then that's a pretty solid bar (I still haven't rewatched 'The Waldo Moment', but no doubt its prescience rings truer and a lot less cynical than in those halcyon days of 2013, which feels far longer ago than a mere decade). So whilst this new turn may not be predominantly speculative fiction, those reflections in the mirror still lurk beneath the surface of our current reality. Give me this any day over the easy caricatures of something like The Boys, satire so smug that it can barely conceal the congratulatory pat on the back that it offers its viewers for recognising its skewering of corporate commodification.
Sometimes, that mirror isn't black, but red. So begins 'Demon 79', the final, near feature-length film harking back to a time in Britain when folks were a bit more obvious about their racism, when you could push a man into the canal and the police would have no idea, and when danger lurked behind each cottage corner. Toby Haynes developed his period-piece chops with BBC and nails the visual 'texture' of the era from the opening shot: the flickering, grainy footage, the screeching sound design, the overly ornate title card that all but jumps at you, and those unnerving zoom shots (you might be reminded of British horror classics with similar moods such as Don't Look Now and The Wicker Man). When Nida, our meek store clerk protagonist, first experiences an imaginary moment of fleeting bloodlust, wishing to strangle a leering and inappropriate customer, violin strings shriek as the camera thrusts us up close into her expression, a vicious grin accompanied by gleaming eyes that wouldn't be out of place in some retro cartoon serial. She practically eats him up; delicious, delicious stuff. Upon being banished to the basement on account of not eating "normal food" (the first of a series of racial microaggressions against Nida, who shares a last name with Brooker's wife - surely reflective of real-life experiences), she discovers an ancient talisman and, pricking her finger and drawing blood, inadvertently summons a demon-in-training, Gaap.
Most of us have experienced these 'call of the void' moments before, and many have even imagined having a demon accomplice who will grant us the destructive power to wield and carry out our own karmic justice. It's not a new trope, but Brooker's take keeps it fresh because of how the script squeezes every bit of dark humour out of the premise (Nida's slap fight in the kitchen where both flail at each other, unwilling to fully engage - hilarious until it's not). The back-and-forth between Anjana Vasan and Paapa Essiedu is an ironic delight, the latter first appearing as a stock-standard demon, complete with curled horns and an echoing, smoky voice, before settling for a more appropriate avatar for the mortal world: Bobby Farrell from Boney M. Never has hellspawn been so sexy, and in bell-bottoms and 6-inch heels, too. For all the talk of the dreaded Americanisation of Black Mirror after moving over to Netflix, his performance encapsulates the essence of British deadpan, his delivery bone dry (see how his call to hell's 'tech support' could be taken straight out of a Monday morning in the office). If much of contemporary spec fic is cynical and overly self-serious in its warnings, 'Demon 79' finds the right note of whimsy, recognising the inherent comedy in connecting with your own personal spectral assistant.
Vasan is crucial here, able to portray the introverted sales assistant who witnesses the dredges of society stroll in and out of the department store each day without completely obscuring the murderous potential that lies within her. Less subtle is David Shields as the episode's 'big bad', his character more or less representative of the rise of conservative neo-fascist politics masquerading as populism; see the imagery of his futuristic rise with its Orwellian branding and tripartite slogan (CONTROL. RESPECT. ORDER.). We've seen this allegory before, perhaps most explicitly in this context with V for Vendetta. We can identify when the narrative switches from Nida's individualistic acts of sanctioned violence to what is really necessary to make a difference: a hammer-delivered bludgeon to the skull of systemic oppression. It's no surprise that Nida's subconscious manifests Gaap as a PoC, or that he rolls his eyes when Smart and the department store owner banter over their familial connections; both are already enshrined in privilege, despite the former presenting himself as a man of the people. No, what's perhaps most novel about 'Demon 79' is that in its close we have unwittingly assumed Nida's role and warped self-righteousness, buying into the very evil (complicity, insularity) that she claims to reject. The episode's premise only works if we can recognise a hint of that within ourselves. I thought it would commit to that idea fully, given the disappearance of Gaap for about 10 minutes before the final sequence, but alas, he does return to give us a reunion. It's lovely, and maybe the glimmer of hope that Nida deserves, but I might have preferred that they kept it a touch more ambiguous, rather than letting her off the hook entirely (smash cut from that clock hitting midnight and a needle drop to Rasputin would have been perfect). What if Gaap didn't return? Or was he even real from the beginning? What if, in the pursuit of justice, we end up normalising the same tribalism and othering inflicted upon us? That final reunion is cathartic, but too safe. Yes, fascism bad, but other dangers might lie much closer to home.
Black Mirror is and will be fine. In a golden age of television, especially of anthology series, consistency is overrated. Guillermo del Toro's Cabinet of Curiosities might be consistent to a degree in its tone, but I can barely recall anything that it wanted to say. What was the point, similarly, of Peele's Twilight Zone reboot? And yet, I still want them all to keep trying. Each new hour-plus episode of season 6 may as well be its own film, complete with production, shooting, and post. We should accept what is on the screen, rather than trying to define the series by what it is not. It might never shock our system as 'The National Anthem' did back in 2011, the frenetic, mockumentary style a tonic to conventional dramatic television, but it's still pushing the envelope. Look a little closer, because what's reflected in that mirror, black or red, may be closer than we expect.