Friday, 13 January 2017

Charlie Brooker's Black Mirror: Ranked and Reviewed [Updated: 10/06/2019]



Note: This article is spoiler-free.

The late, great Dennis Potter (the finest, certainly the most influential screenwriter Britain's ever produced) once described television as "the medium a nation uses to talk to itself." Now consider that statement for a moment and ask yourself exactly what kind of dialogue modern television conducts with its audience. When Potter made this observation, British television was putting out programmes such as Play for Today, Civilization, The Ascent of Man, Steptoe and Son, Letters from America, Monty Python's Flying Circus, Ways of Seeing and I, Claudius; I don't want to sound arch, but Made in Chelsea, The X Factor, Sherlock, Downton Abbey, The Only Way Is Essex, Fake or Fortune, The Jeremy Kyle Show and Our Girl only tell us that we want safe, undemanding viewing without the inconvenience of having to engage too much in the way of brainpower.

Thank Christ then for Charlie Brooker's Black Mirror: arguably the best drama series to appear on British television in the last twenty years. We see our lives reflected back at us through its warped lens, the ways in which the acceleration of technology blur our self-determinism. It's heady stuff, and essential viewing in a world growing ever more unfamiliar by the day. But enough blather: presented below is a complete list of episodes from all five series, ranked and (sort of) reviewed for your consideration. Now crack open a bottle of Jack - you're gonna need it.

* * * * *

23.
"Rachel, Jack and Ashley Too"
(d. Anne Sewitsky, 2019)
Before you all start pelting me little rocks inscribed with the words "music snob", this episode's low rating has nothing to do with the casting of Miley Cyrus: if anything, she gives a fairly solid, largely convincing performance. The problem with "Rachel, Jack and Ashley Too" is the tonal inconsistency. When a drama starts off exploring the relationship between human exploitation and AI and ends with a self-consciously 'wacky' car chase you know something's gone desperately wrong.

It looks good, though, and the way the production repurposes Nine Inch Nails' "Head Like a Hole" and "Right Where It Belongs" to make a point about emotional commodification is reasonably witty and well-observed. If, however, you want a really savage indictment of the depravity at the heart of the music industry then I suggest you check out Peter Watkins' 1968 film Privilege. On a story level it's not that dissimilar to "Rachel...," except it doesn't rely on a gimmicky CGI doll to get its message across.

22. 
"Men Against Fire"
(d. Jakob Verbruggen, 2016)
The tone may be too didactic for its own good, but "Men Against Fire" is still likely to give even the most apathetic viewer nightmares. We may find it ridiculous that a chimpanzee was hanged in early 19th century Hartlepool on suspicion of being a Frenchman, but the untraveled, uneducated populace of Britain at the time (at least, those who could read) were "reliably" informed by the proto-tabloid Morning Post that Napoleon himself was an "unclassifiable being, half-African, half Mediterranean mulatto". In "Men Against Fire" we witness the 21st century implications of this kind of cultural programming, inspired by the revelations in S.L.A. Marshall's 1947 book Men Against Fire: Problem of Battle Command that 75% of British troops in WWII fired over the heads of enemy combatants because they perceived them as men like themselves rather than sub-human targets.

Trump's been making a lot of comments recently about bolstering the power of the American armed forces: let's pray this isn't what he means.

21.
"Striking Vipers"
(d. Owen Harris, 2019)
Critics will inevitably make comparisons with Moonlight, but "Striking Vipers" isn't so much about LGBT issues in the African-American community than it is the wider phenomenon of online platforms enabling fluidity in sexual and gender identity. Unfortunately, this generalised analysis doesn't cut as deep as it could, so instead of a powerful character drama we end up with a glorified episode of Catfish (albeit without the sneering and humiliation).

Now, I'm evolved enough as a human being to understand that just because you've got two black guys on-screen together doesn't automatically mean that race has to be a talking point (consider Red Dwarf, for example: the subject hasn't been brought up once in 73 episodes, and quite rightly because the show isn't about that), but in the case of "Vipers" it does feel like a great big elephant in the room that Brooker isn't comfortable acknowledging. That said, Anthony Mackie and Yahya Abdul-Mateen realise that sweet and touching just don't cut it, and do their utmost to engage our emotions in what would otherwise have been an ultimately forgettable 60 minutes.

20.
"The Waldo Moment"
(d. Bryn Higgins, 2013)
As a stark warning against voter apathy and political cynicism, "The Waldo Moment" doesn't quite cut the mustard (our old friend Dennis' magnificent 1965 drama Vote, Vote, Vote for Nigel Barton covered the same ground in a much more thorough and engaged way). It is, however, a very funny, rather touching character piece about media exploitation and the compromises of popular success. The "What are you for?" scene is an exemplary piece of drama, while the would-be relationship between Daniel Rigby and Chloe Pirrie manages to be heart-warming and bittersweet in its emotional honesty.

In the last few months, a lot of pundits have drawn parallels between "The Waldo Moment" and Trump's election campaign but this is bollocks: you might as well say the eponymous bear is an avatar of Glenda Jackson, Ronald Reagan or Arnold Schwarzenegger. If Trump had stood as an independent then maybe there would be room for comparison. As it stands, there isn't. So there.

19.
"Arkangel"
(d. Jodie Foster, 2017)
Ah, the old subject of cossetting parents... We've been here so many times over the years you'd think there was nothing left to do with the idea, wouldn't you?

And there isn't. Buuut, although "Arkangel" doesn't exactly do anything particularly new with the concept it does have a tremendous amount of fun exploring the limits of control and safeguarding through intrusive rather than nurturing technologies. It shouldn't be too much of a surprise that Jodie Foster was attached to direct this episode as she's been quite outspoken in recent years (well, the last 25, in fact) about child safety in the media age. Kudos, then, that she manages to inhabit more than one moral position as the mother-daughter relationship here reaches its inevitable crisis point.

18. 
"Playtest"
(d. Dan Trachtenberg, 2016)
The dangers of virtual games: haven't we seen this before? Well, yes - but at its heart, "Playtest" is also a very poignant drama that makes up for any criticism of its lack of originality. The notion of someone getting lost in a fantasy world to escape, however momentarily, the circumstances of their unhappiness is one of the oldest narratives there is, and an ever-potent one to boot.

I'm not a gamer, but I am a film fanatic and spend an inordinate amount of time in darkened cinemas or with the curtains drawn, watching distant, flickering images that could easily become a substitute for real life should I experience one bad day too many. As such, I connect with "Playtest" and consider its cautious message an agent of inoculation.

17.
"Smithereens"
(d. James Hawes, 2019)
Black Mirror does Dog Day Afternoon (albeit in a taxi parked off-road somewhere in the South East of England). I suspect many people will consider this the least interesting episode of series five: the science/speculative fiction element is practically absent, and the Big Reveal (when it comes) is so grounded in the here-and-now it's almost an anti-climax. Taken on its own merits, though, this is actually an expertly taut little thriller that, while not exactly original, gets its message across with more directly than perhaps any other story in the Black Mirror canon. This, of course, does leave it open to charges of being deterministic and - dare I say it - 'preachy,' but as the late, great BBC arts Czar Hugh Weldon once said: "Ignore the obvious at your peril."

Ultimately, how you respond to "Smithereens" depends on your own relationship to technology. If you're one of those bastards who sees nothing wrong with checking your smartphone in the middle of a conversation then it probably won't make much of an impact. More fool you, chum.

16.
"Crocodile"
(d. John Hillcoat, 2017)
I'll be honest, I get fed up with crime shows blocking the TV schedules. True, if it wasn't for illicit activity then 90% of literature and film wouldn't exist - but as far as television's concerned its ubiquity has led to it becoming moving wallpaper, like soap operas or game shows. And let's face it, the facile attempt by broadcasters to deceive viewers into thinking euro-crime dramas such as The Bridge or Inspector Montalbano are in some way different to Sherlock or Inspector Morse is ridiculous beyond belief.

The only way the genre can survive with its creative worth intact is for programme-makers to strip away the tired old conventions and explore new avenues of storytelling. In this respect, "Crocodile" can be seen as the first of a new breed of crime drama. Sure, it owes its inspiration to Philip K. Dick, but that's the way the world's going. This is the 21st century and we're all geeks now.

15.
"Hated in the Nation"
(d. James Hawes, 2016)
 An acquaintance of mine describes this episode, after Friends, as "The One With The Apocalypse" - which is pretty apt, I'd say. Brooker has stated in interviews that "Hated in the Nation" is an homage to Scandinavian Noir. It is to a degree, but there's more than a passing resemblance to The Purge (which, putting it mildly, isn't a film I cared for that much): here, however, societal breakdown and the onset of anarchy is a reflection of online anonymity and the way hate campaigns can be spearheaded by tech-literate strangers.
 
Kelly Macdonald, who I've always thought of as one of the most underrated actors of her generation, delivers what could prove to be a career-defining performance in a story of great scope and vision: if you disagree, though, feel free to Tweet her name or mine alongside the hashtag #DeathTo.
 
14.
"Bandersnatch"
(d. David Slade, 2018)
Since "Bandersnatch" allows you to determine the episode's outcome, it's only fair that this thumbnail review has the same flexibility. So depending on which version you follow:

1) The psychology of the piece, while effective in places, ends up being compromised by what is essentially a gimmicky and intrusive narrative device.
2) The character drama element - the dynamo that drives this, or indeed any, plot - becomes almost redundant once we know we can take control of the protagonist's choices via a gimmicky and intrusive narrative device.
3) While the horror element is suitably disturbing, it feels more the result of a gimmicky and intrusive narrative device rather than something growing organically from the story itself.
4) The episode's satirical take on interactive technologies virtually disappears the minute the audience is invited to influence events using what becomes a gimmicky and intrusive narrative device.
 
...Well, you see the problem. For the record, the best Choose Your Own Adventure story is Marvel Comics' Ren and Stimpy Space Cadet Summer Special from 1994: whatever path you choose mischievously ends with the intrepid but dim-witted duo getting stuck in a time warp.

13.
"Black Museum"
(d. Colm McCarthy, 2017)
Whatever happened to the portmanteau horror movie? So you get the odd one here and there (usually low budget, limited release stuff like Trapped Ashes or Ghost Stories): where's the modern-day equivalent of Amicus Films, that's what I want to know. Remember the ill-fated train passengers/narrators in Dr Terror's House of Horror? Richard Greene enduring the agony of living death in Tales from the Crypt? Tom Baker using voodoo to silence art critics in Vault of Horror? People still talk about this stuff, but sadly the cinematic tradition just doesn't exist any more.

"Black Museum" is one of two Black Mirror episodes to draw inspiration from horror anthology cinema, and although it isn't the better of these two ventures it offers the kind of chills that resonate long after you've switched off the television and drawn the curtains. Sci-fi and horror make great bedfellows, and although I'm personally more predisposed towards the latter than the former this episode practically obliterates the distinction. In years to come, the fate of Babs Olusanmokun's Clayton Leigh will surely join that of Greene and Baker as one of the popular imagination's most cherished nightmares.

12.
"Hang the DJ"
(d. Tim Van Patten, 2017)
Since "San Junipero" it's becoming routine to include at least one 'uplifting' episode of Black Mirror each series. That's perfectly reasonable (we'll go into this in a bit more detail once we get to #3), but it does place a quite a burden on those particular stories. For one thing, they've got to deliver a positive resolution without seeming contrived, and for another by going against the grain in the popular conception of the programme they're inevitably going to draw harsher criticism from the fan base. (Most people think 'dark' is better. Most people are idiots.)

The best word to describe "Hang the DJ" is bittersweet. It isn't saccharine or sentimental, sparkling or slushy: it knows that the promise of true happiness comes with effort, dedication and - more than anything else - a great big dollop of good fortune. If you've ever used a dating app, or met someone entirely by chance and felt that it seems too good to be true, "Hang the DJ" is the ur-text of modern romantic anxiety.

  11. 
"The Entire History of You"
(d. Brian Welsh, 2011)
Without doubt this is one the most uncomfortable and emotionally resonant episodes of Black Mirror. Scripted by Jesse Armstrong of Peep Show fame, it's a sombre, solipsistic affair about the way one's memories can be downloaded and played back like the latest episode of your favourite Netflix or Amazon TV show. Of course, masochism and self-censure/deception are the price we pay for the power of recall - which is why memory, as the ever-wonderful Joseph Cotten observes in Citizen Kane, is the greatest curse inflicted upon humankind.
 

"The Entire History of You" borrows a great deal of its visual design from Rainer Werner Fassbinder's sci-fi classic World on a Wire (which anticipates The Matrix by a good 30 years, and ranks alongside Edgar Reisz's Heimat, also about the power of memory, as one of the great works of German television drama). Rather than being a straightforward case of grand larceny, this homage establishes the thematic principle of a world within a world and - for this viewer, anyway - was evidence on first encountering this extraordinary show that Black Mirror was a programme that demanded serious attention.

10.
"Metalhead"
(d. David Slade, 2017)
Professional Northerner™ Maxine Peake finds herself being hunted by robotic 'dogs' in a monochrome, post-Expressionist dystopian nightmare, with the end result falling somewhere in between Eraserhead and The Terminator. Predictable stylistic homage aside, though, this is certainly one of the most artful episodes of Black Mirror, skilfully fusing theme and form to create a work that like, say, James McTaggart's Robin Redbreast or Jonathan Miller's Alice in Wonderland could easily have a life outside the confines of television.

We talk a lot about high concept, but that doesn't automatically mean superhero movies or convoluted fantasy series like Good Omens or Lucifer: the term sits equally as well on the more artistic side of the cinematic and televisual spectrum. I for one would be happy to see more television with the bravery of "Metalhead", demonstrating that for everything the medium is capable of doing its greatest power is reaching into your head and giving you a different perspective on reality.

9.
"Shut Up and Dance"
(d. James Watkins, 2016)
"Shut Up and Dance" prompted me to stick a lump of blu-tack over my webcam, although I should point out my online activities alternate between tapping away on Blogger, laughing at inaccuracies on Wikipedia, and sighing wistfully at pictures of Cate Blanchett.

I don't want to say too much about this episode because it's such a tightly plotted piece where minor, apparently throwaway events take on greater significance as the story unfolds - and there's a delightfully wicked surprise once the pieces all fall into place. Watch and grow, folks.

8.
"Be Right Back"
(d. Owen Harris, 2013)
I recently watched Ex Machina, and I have to say writer-director Alex Garland's pretence that the film had anything original or profound to say about artificial intelligence really pissed me off. (I can't believe he got an Academy Award nomination for the screenplay: it's a cliché-strewn cesspool of banality, for Christ's sake.)
 
But anyway, yeah - Black Mirror. Anyone looking for a genuinely profound statement on artificial intelligence and its psychological ramifications should check out "Be Right Back." A nuanced rumination on love, loss and moving on, this episode packs a hefty emotional punch.

7.
"USS Callister"
(d. Toby Haynes, 2017)
Star Trek parodies have been old hat since... oh, I dunno: the late '80s, maybe? We all know the jokes about redshirts, the Captain's corset, doctors who aren't engineers/plumbers/bricklayers, etc - but what Brooker and co-author William Bridges achieve here is really quite remarkable. Yes, the 'gag' is based around what can only be described as an elaborate form of cosplay, but what makes it work is the emotional resonance behind the parody.

"USS Callister" uses Star Trek (or rather, a thinly-disguised version of that franchise) in much the same way Dennis Potter's masterpiece The Singing Detective borrows the conventions of detective fiction to explore the neuroses of its central protagonist. It's using a particular genre - in this case, Space Opera (and let's be honest, that's what Star Trek is) - as a vehicle to tell a universal story about inadequacy, vulnerability and dejection. And being able to do that while paying tribute to your adopted narrative-style instead of taking pot-shots is the mark of a satirist at the height of their abilities.

6. 
"Nosedive"
(d. Joe Wright, 2016)

We used to call them fair-weather friends, now they're the people we befriend on Facebook. I once dated a girl who had over 150 contacts in her profile, less than a third of which she knew in real life. She used to avoid posting anything negative (a bad day at work, issues with her landlord, etc.) because she "didn't want to look bad" in front of the, so to speak, faceless legion of young professionals in her "friend" list. In a fit of pique after being made redundant, she posted an understandably bitter status report explaining how she'd been let down by her employer after several years of service and her concern at finding a comparable job... You can probably guess why I mention this anecdote, and anyone who's seen "Nosedive" will recognise why it's so horribly, horribly relevant.

I understand Bryce Dallas Howard (Ron's daughter) has been nominated for a Screen Actors' Guild Award for her performance in this episode. If she doesn't get it there's something terribly wrong with the industry.

5. 
"The National Anthem"
(d. Otto Bathurst, 2011)
It's a premise that could easily have come from one of Charlie Brooker's rants on Newswipe: unless the Prime Minister performs an indecent act on live television, a beloved public figure dies (in this case a fictional heir to the throne). Ridiculous? Perhaps - but not when social media and public consensus pierce deeper than any bullet. Once security services have exhausted every possible escape route, an emotionally-broken Michael Callow, PM (in a brilliantly-realised performance from Rory Kinnear) drops his trousers and gives the public what it thinks it wants.

"The National Anthem" dives headlong into the chasm between personal dignity and popular opinion and explores how far down the two actually meet. And inevitably, it's a lot more shallow than we care to think. But then - as long as we're watching someone else debase themselves we're happy, aren't we? 

4.
"White Bear"
(d. Carl Tibbetts, 2013)
A master class in misdirection, "White Bear" is without doubt the boldest and ballsiest episode in the entire Black Mirror canon. The first half hour purposefully bombards us with clichés and plot holes until we reach that reveal - and my God, what a reveal it is. While Leonora Critchlow is marvellous as a seemingly innocent woman lost in a hostile world she neither understands nor recognises, it's the sheer humanity of Brooker's writing that impresses the most. In refusing to adopt a moral position where we would expect one, "White Bear" forces us to look at our own reflection and ask whose ugly mug it is we see staring back

If you haven't seen Black Mirror, this is as close as television gets to a pairing of Jonathan Swift and Peter Watkins' Punishment Park. Challenging, enthralling, frustrating - take your pick: "White Bear" is satire of the highest order.

3. 
"San Junipero"
(d. Owen Harris, 2016)
If you're already a Black Mirror fan, chances are you're aware of the "What if phones, but too much" meme, taken from Mallory Ortberg's desperately unfunny spoof of the programme's storylines in The Toast. To be honest, there was a point halfway through the third series when I started to wonder if Ortberg had a point: while Black Mirror isn't technophobic, its scepticism occasionally teeters on the brink of alarmism and misanthropy. Then along came "San Junipero" and my heart melted.

This deeply human inquiry into the power of memory and the way technology can be used (positively in this case) as a means of giving full expression to our true selves is one of the most beautiful, emotionally honest pieces of television I've seen in a very, very long time. There is a measure of cynicism at the heart of contemporary culture, which Black Mirror frequently acknowledges, but it doesn't have to be the informing principle. "San Junipero" is a much-needed antidote.

2. 
"Fifteen Million Merits"
(d. Euros Lyn, 2011)
If broadcasters and the viewing public had paid attention to Nigel Kneale's The Year of the Sex Olympics back in 1969, "Fifteen Million Merits" wouldn't exist. I'm pleased it does, even if its observations about the predatory nature of reality television, the way the plasma screen is rapidly becoming a focal point in modern architecture and how body fascism pervades social consciousness make the drama less a warning against the horror of things to come than a countdown to when we can expect everything to finally go tits up. At the heart of this dystopian vision sits a tender, ultimately tragic love story so expertly woven into the narrative that it bridges the gap between the personal and political, making us reflect on how far the culture of aspiration corrupts genuine virtue. Daniel Kaluuya and Jessica Brown Findlay are delightful as the star-crossed near-lovers, their tenderness towards each other bursting with genuine feeling.

If you can still switch over to ITV3 for the highlights of Britain's Got Talent after watching this you're dead inside.

1. 
"White Christmas"
 (d. Carl Tibbetts, 2014)
Readers of a certain age will remember a time when British television's Christmas schedules regularly featured a ghost story as a welcome alternative to the saccharine offerings of more conventional programming, a tradition that's slowly starting to creep back onto our screens (often accompanied by the dreaded words, 'Written by Mark Gatiss'). "White Christmas" is every inch a ghost story, albeit in a metaphorical sense, where technology itself has the power to turn people into ghosts. Every time I log on to Blogger and get that fucking annoying message about the use of Cookies, I can't help thinking about Oona Chaplin - or wondering if there's a mini Rafe Spall (who, incidentally, looks a little bit like a more svelte version of me) trapped inside my laptop.

By turns a darkly humorous commentary about the ever-increasing influence of social media on our personal relationships and a heart-breaking study of the alienating after-effects, "White Christmas" is a ferociously intelligent and astonishingly original piece of television. Sod it: it's a masterpiece.