How Black Mirror learned to stop worrying about the future and cope with the present

In the show's seventh season, Charlie Brooker asks himself—and us—how to deal with what's already here.

How Black Mirror learned to stop worrying about the future and cope with the present
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When Black Mirror debuted back in 2011 on Channel 4, the premise of its first episode, “The National Anthem,” was simple: Social media creates a firestorm around the kidnapping of a British princess, and her captor blackmails the prime minister into having sex with a pig to secure her release. That was followed up with an exploration of toxic TV talent shows (“Fifteen Million Merits”) and an installment set in a world where people lose the ability to forget, thus destroying their relationships (“The Entire History Of You”). At the time, these pieces set in a near future—ones that speculated how the seemingly innocuous technology around us could turn dark and twisted— broke the internet. But 14 years later, those once shocking episodes feel relatively tame.

After the show’s first season, British newspapers printed accusations that then-prime minister David Cameron had allegedly been intimate with a dead pig (and no one was even holding a royal family member ransom at the time); talent shows were exposed for their exploitative practices and lack of safeguarding for the vulnerable, a sentiment that resurfaced last year following the passing of Liam Payne; and we became even more attached to our devices, documenting nearly every moment of our lives and unable to truly forget.

Watching season two’s “The Waldo Moment,” in which a crude TV star becomes the face of the new world order, now feels positively quaint after scrolling through today’s headlines. Even after the series moved to Netflix—with “Nosedive” presenting a society in which access to the finer things in life depends on public ratings and “Men Against Fire” depicting soldiers who are implanted with tech that makes their enemies appear as monsters—its scenarios today don’t seem so far-fetched. Anyone with access to a computer faces living in a world where influencer endorsements shape presidential campaigns, aid workers are being murdered with impunity, and genocide is livestreamed from Gaza.

During a brief charity Zoom conversation I had with series creator Charlie Brooker, I joked about how prophetic “The National Anthem” was. He sighed and said he used to try and think of the most messed-up thing possible for Black Mirror, but reality kept beating it. He expressed a similar point to The Guardian earlier this month, saying of the show’s recent seventh season: “I’d say there’s a little less dystopia. If you want that, there’s a 24-hour panel showing it called your window. You don’t necessarily want to see something saying: Things are going to get worse.”

That so much of what Brooker has created now feels plausible is a testament to how salient a satirist he is. It also explains why, in its new season, Black Mirror’s approach has shifted. The show hasn’t always committed to nihilism: Arguably its most beloved episode, “San Junipero,” which is referenced approximately a billion times in season seven, was a delightful love story; and “USS Callister” and “Hang The DJ showcased Brooker’s propensity for sweetness. But season seven carries the tone of a creator no longer content to simply despair and shake his fist at the clouds. He’s done pointing out everything he fears might happen. Instead, he’s asking himself—and us—how we can cope with what’s already here.

One of the most notable aspects of these new episodes is the purposeful unoriginality of the tech. We see cursed video games in “Plaything”; devices that allow you to re-enter old memories in “Eulogy”; a technology that is essentially just magic in “Bête Noire”; and, in  “USS Callister: Into Infinity,” a return to the Star Trek-like immersive gameplay of that episode’s predecessor. And while one particular ending ranks among Brooker’s bleakest, for the most part, these are largely tales of triumph, forgiveness, and love against all odds.

Black Mirror fans may find themselves perplexed by this softer approach, where characters are surrounded by the evils of tech but still manage to retain their humanity. But in troubled times like these, that may be the most satirically powerful choice. In a world where great evil overwhelms you every time you pick up a newspaper, the easiest thing to do is to retreat, shrink your bubble, and disengage as a form of self-preservation. But Brooker asks a different question: What if we had grander ambitions for ourselves? What if raging against the machine could itself be a form of self-actualization?

“Hotel Reverie” sees Issa Rae as a movie actor cast in a remake of a classic film who gets trapped within its world. If this ran earlier in Black Mirror‘s run, she might’ve been doomed to an endless hell fueled by her own hubris. But this time, she finds joy, love, and creative fulfillment in a hopeless place. In “Eulogy,” when Phillip (a perfectly cast Paul Giamatti) is transported back through memories of “the one who got away,” it can feel like a sort of inverse of “The Entire History Of You.” Here, revisiting the past brings closure and the ability to forgive yourself for the impulsivity of youth.

This season may disappoint those hoping for bone-chilling twists like the ones in “Crocodile” or “Shut Up And Dance.” There are fewer straightforward evil villains this time around (though Tracee Ellis Ross’ predatory sales rep Gaynor is awful). Instead, the show focuses on how, even under dark and overwhelming circumstances, there are still connections to forge, hope to cling to, and small acts of kindness the machines haven’t accounted for.

It’s no coincidence that this season is largely led by Black women (aside from Giamatti’s “Eulogy” and “USS Callister: Into Infinity,” which understandably returns Cristin Milioti to the captain’s seat). Rashida Jones, Michele Austin, Issa Rae, Tracee Ellis Ross, and the astonishing Siena Kelly—whose character faces a nightmarish workplace Karen in “Bête Noire”—deliver an array of performances that make you wish there were more categories at the Emmys. Their presence alone makes a powerful point in a world where diversity, equity, and inclusion are being demonized. Part of how we cope is through being inspired by undeniable excellence, and watching these women portray such a range of the human experience is a testament to how one can still rise in a toxic world. 

Brooker could have stayed in his lane, dreaming up more Sisyphean nightmares, speculating on how tech billionaires are the new oligarchs of an increasingly fascistic world, and thinking up new ways AI might lead to our downfall. But the thing is: We know all that. And just because he warned us about it 14 years ago didn’t stop any of it from happening. So now Black Mirror is no longer about warning us about the future. It’s asking how we survive the present. These technologies can’t be uninvented. But while they exist, Black Mirror shows us how we can still hold on to our humanity—no matter what nightmares they bring.   

 
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