‘Black Mirror’ Review: Things You Must Know about Charlie Brooker’s Sixth Season

Netflix reintroduces the highly acclaimed anthology with five gripping episodes delving into the realms of technology, media, and human nature. Esteemed stars such as Salma Hayek Pinault, Zazie Beetz, Aaron Paul, and Kate Mara take the center stage.

Black Mirror Review, Black Mirror Season 6 Review, 

In retrospect, it seemed almost inevitable for reality to align with the essence of ''Black Mirror''. I'm not referring to the literal sense, as we have yet to witness the advent of cookies or grains, for which we can be grateful. However, the spiritual resonance is undeniable. When the series first debuted in 2011, it stood out as a beacon of skepticism amidst the era of unabated technological optimism. Fast forward to the present, where actual news headlines about artificial intelligence replacing human workers or social media algorithms upending entire democracies appear eerily reminiscent of Black Mirror plotlines. It's akin to the Trump era surpassing the cynicism of Veep and witnessing the most sardonic gags from 30 Rock materialize into our reality through the medium of Peak TV.

Compounded by the notion that creator Charlie Brooker may be growing weary of the entire endeavor, as evidenced by the lackluster entries in season five, it's hardly surprising that the latest batch of episodes feels somewhat less prophetic than their predecessors. However, Black Mirror possesses one final trick up its sleeve: throughout season six, it breaks free from its core premise, emerging as a more unpredictable version of itself.

Similar to previous years, each of the five new standalone narratives on Netflix, ranging from 40 to 80 minutes in duration, is only loosely interconnected, with sporadic Easter eggs subtly linking them. Yet, when viewed collectively, it becomes apparent that the focus has shifted significantly from extrapolating the future of platforms like TikTok or ChatGPT. Instead, it delves deeper into the realities of our past and present that we have already experienced. Notably, three of these tales unfold in earlier decades, while a fourth predominantly revolves around present events intertwined with the past.

The only exception to this retrospective perspective is the premiere episode, "Joan Is Awful." It playfully embraces a Charlie Kaufman-esque approach to the present moment. Picture yourself sitting down to watch "Joan Is Awful" on Netflix, and within this precise moment, its protagonist, Joan (portrayed by Annie Murphy), discovers a Salma Hayek Pinault drama on the streaming service (apologies, "Streamberry") that intricately portrays the intimate details of her day. I am restrained by embargoes from divulging too much about the unfolding predicament. However, I can assure you that it embodies the quintessential essence of Black Mirror—a darkly humorous mind-bender that seamlessly weaves together contemporary anxieties surrounding surveillance, the hollowness of "content," and the consequences of our carelessly accepted terms and conditions.

The sole other sci-fi excursion within this set is "Beyond the Sea," set in a stylish alternate version of 1969, where astronauts can transfer their consciousness between their space-bound bodies and lifelike robot replicas on Earth. Black Mirror has consistently explored the intersection of human nature and scientific progress, with its most thought-provoking chapters delving into the intricate interplay between the two. However, "Beyond the Sea" squanders its captivating central concept and Aaron Paul's finely tuned performance on a relatively mundane personal conflict, offering disappointingly little insight into the transformative potential of these wondrous mechanical forms or their impact on human identity and relationships. Nevertheless, the episode concludes with a jolting twist that leaves a lasting impact.

If anything, the prevailing concern this time lies in the cost of our trivial entertainments. Regrettably, only "Joan Is Awful" manages to successfully embody this theme. "Mazey Day," set in 2006 and centered around a paparazzo (Zazie Beetz) pursuing a troubled starlet (Clara Rugaard), theoretically aligns with the contemporary trend of scrutinizing the most toxic excesses of celebrity culture from the early 2000s. However, despite an intriguing twist, it covers territory that has already been dissected by works like "Pam & Tommy" or "Framing Britney Spears." Similarly, "Loch Henry," a plodding horror tale following a group of young filmmakers (Myha'la Herrold, Daniel Portman, and Samuel Blenkin) documenting a series of gruesome murders from the 1990s, arrives at least three years too late, with its reprimanding commentary on the morbid allure of true crime.

Nonetheless, these episodes mark a turning point for Black Mirror, where the focus shifts away from the particular anxieties surrounding the visions of Mark Zuckerberg or Elon Musk. Instead, "Mazey Day" and "Loch Henry" delve into the realms of past eras, centering around VHS tapes and digital cameras, shedding light on a new direction for the show. Instead, it embraces a broader sense of unease. In this context, the finale, "Demon 79," occupies an ideal position, representing Black Mirror's final stage of transformation from an anthology centered around technology to an anthology that encompasses whatever themes Brooker (who penned most of the season alone, but co-wrote "Demon 79" with Ms. Marvel's Bisha K. Ali) wishes to explore.

"Demon 79" tells the story of Nida (Anjana Vasan), a timid saleswoman coerced by a disarmingly affable disco-glam demon (Paapa Essiedu) into committing atrocious acts to prevent an impending apocalypse. The plot strays from Black Mirror's sci-fi origins and its usual concerns about the future, instead unfolding as a straightforward supernatural horror set against the backdrop of Thatcher-era Britain's xenophobia. Even the episode's label distinguishes it; the opening credits designate it as a "Red Mirror" episode, presumably to signify the shift in genre.

In short, this marks a radical departure from the Black Mirror we have grown accustomed to. It also breathes new life into the series, evoking a freshness reminiscent of its prime in 2017, if not more so. Director Toby Haynes infuses the episode with a grainy '70s aesthetic, occasionally veering into the realm of scratchy video-nasty visuals when Nida's fantasies give way to pulp-infused violence. The chemistry between Vasan and Essiedu elicits ample dark humor and, though the episode does not present a straightforward solution to the genuine issue at its core—Nida's marginalization as a woman of color—it effectively captures her exhaustion and rage.

For Nida, catharsis ultimately arises from the opportunity to dismantle the suffocating existence to which she has been relegated, in search of something better. Likewise, over the course of season six, the show itself undergoes a similar transformation. Fans of the series' techno-dystopian thought experiments may be disheartened to see them cast aside entirely, and the shift in focus yields as many missteps as successes. However, by breaking free from those established confines, Black Mirror paves the way for a more uninhibited, audacious, and captivating future.

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