Black Mirror (Season 6)

Creator: Charlie Brooker
Starring: Annie Murphy, Salma Hayek, Michael Cera, Myha’la Herrold, Samuel Blenkin, Daniel Portman, Monica Dolan, John Hannah, Aaron Paul, Josh Hartnett, Kate Mara, Auden Thornton, Rory Culkin, Zazie Beetz, Clara Rugaard, Danny Ramirez, Anjana Vasan, Paapa Essiedu
Original Airdate: 2023

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Once counted among Netflix's earliest successes, Charlie Brooker's technology themed British anthology series Black Mirror hasn't aired since 2019's underwhelming 3-episode fifth season. And that's assuming you'd consider such a small amount of content a season at all. This followed 2018's interactive, "choose your own adventure" feature Bandersnatch, which garnered a mixed response, leaving viewers wondering if the series could recapture its former glory, which peaked with the third season's Emmy-winning "San Junipero."

While that episode (and to a lesser extent, season four's "USS Callister") has justifiably been cited as a series high, let's not kid ourselves into thinking consistency has been its key strength, with length and pacing issues leading to some real stinkers along the way. But now after a production rights battle had even its creator expressing uncertainty about further seasons and what incarnation those could take, it's finally back.

The good news is that this sixth season sees the series retaining much of what originally worked, while still managing to go in wildly clever new directions. Even if five episodes still doesn't feel like enough, there is a cohesiveness to the storytelling that's been lacking for a long time. Discussions and arguments will undoubtedly break out over the subjective rankings of these episodes, but at least that debate has rarely felt this purposeful. 

Less acceptable is the complaint this "isn't Black Mirror" because it supposedly skews too far from its original intentions. In actuality, this change is a relief, as the show often tripped up by shoehorning outrageous plots into its tech-themed premise rather than organically incorporating them. This new batch is given a little more room the breathe, leaning into the sci-fi, horror and dystopian elements that first invoked all those Rod Serling comparisons. And you wonder whether we'd even be hearing those criticisms if word hadn't leaked that Brooker was planning a "Red Mirror" horror anthology that was intended to showcase the season's final entry. 

These five episodes could be viewed as two halves, with a meditative psychological drama sandwiched in the middle. The season starts in slightly familiar territory before moving to darker places that deviate unexpectedly from the show's tangentially shared universe. One of the installments feels like a miscalculation, a couple linger in the mind longer than others, but it all still fits together really well, offering up a little something for everyone.

In the opener, "Joan is Awful," Annie Murphy gives a tour de force comedic turn as tech CEO Joan, who  discovers the very recent events of her life are unfolding on screen for the world to see in a new "Streamberry" series starring Salma Hayek (played by Salma Hayek). This is easily the lightest, most playful episode of the bunch, not to mention the funniest. And nearly all of it can be attributed to Murphy's wacky turn as Joan, a woman overwhelmed by awkwardly firing employees at the board's will before coming home to safe, but boring boyfriend Krish (Avi Nash). 

Between Joan's trips to her therapist and a temptation to cheat with returning ex Mac (Rob Delaney), the revelation that all of this has been adapted into a series causes humiliating embarrassment on a grand scale. Luckily, she has a plan to get the show cancelled that may or may not involve Hayek and a really disgusting public act. What works best is how the story peels back a few more layers than you'd think, capped it all off with a fun final twist that plants it firmly alongside other similarly themed Black Mirror episodes covering technology's trappings. 

Netflix also really skewers itself here, showing a surprising amount of self-awareness, with Brooker's script humorously taking aim at their "terms and conditions" and greedy business model. In tackling the issue of AI and CGI replacing actors and writers, it's one of the timelier episodes, capped off by a memorably uproarious Michael Cera cameo.   

The second episode, "Loch Henry," finds film student couple Davis (Samuel Blenkin) and Pia (Myha’la Herrold) traveling to his quaint Scottish hometown to visit his widowed mother Janet (Monica Dolan) and shoot footage for their documentary on a local conservationist. But during a stop at the bar owned by Davis's childhood friend, Stuart (Daniel Portman), a far more sordid subject piques Pia's interest

Daniel tells Pia the story of local murderer Iain Adair, who was responsible for the torture and deaths of numerous tourists in the '90's, resulting in the shooting of Davis's late policeman father Kenneth (Gregor Firth) and the town's decades-long decline. Despite Davis's obvious discomfort, Pia convinces him to focus their film on this, doing the research and even visiting the scene for additional footage. But since crime documentaries are a dime a dozen, they'll need a hook for it to stand out from the pack, And boy do they ever get one. 

When this starts you're unsure what the goal is, at least until Pia convinces Davis to shift course and an incredible musical montage featuring Melanie's "People in the Front Row" signifies they're off to the races. Blenkin and Herrold build on their natural chemistry, while a subtle Dolan convinces as a mother willingly participating to keep her husband's memory alive. 

Of all the episodes, this contains the biggest twist. And for every viewer saying they saw it coming will be others totally taken aback. What really matters is whether it lands, as this unquestionably does, with Brooker turning his retro VHS camcorder on Netflix's taste for true crime exploitation and the viewers' willingness to join in for entertainment's sake. 

"Beyond The Sea," takes place in an alternate 1969, with astronauts Cliff (Aaron Paul) and David (Josh Hartnett) aboard a ship on a six-year space mission. In between medical physicals and repairs, their consciousnesses are transferred to artificial replicas of themselves on Earth, enabling both to spend time with their respective families.. 

While the emotionally distant Cliff lives quietly off the grid in an idyllic rural farm house with wife Lana (Kate Mara) and their son, David settles in California, making him a more recognizable celebrity. But when tragedy strikes and replicant David and his family are targeted by a violent, Manson-like hippie cult, Lana suggests Cliff lend distraught, depressed David his replica so he can unwind back at their home. As David's trips become more frequent, he becomes unhealthily attached to a life that isn't his. 

Going on cast and premise alone, this seemed a likely frontrunner for the season's best going in. And even while that designation is arguable, few could claim it disappoints. Running a robust 80 minutes, it's the longest episode, but a meditative slow burn that perfectly suits the material's melancholic tone. There's a mesmerizing, contemplative quality to how it all unfolds, thanks largely to John Crowley's steady direction and the impressive production design that goes into creating both the shuttle and Earth-bound 60's settings. It's 2001: A Space Odyssey meets Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, as its story wrestles with some heady sci-fi themes that are only bolstered by three terrific central performances.

Paul and Hartnett are devastating in their roles, with the former pulling off the tricky job of playing both Cliff and David, going home first as Cliff before sporadically returning as David occupying Cliff's body. It's sort of a Face/Off-like scenario with Paul never leaving doubt as to which character he's inhabiting, completely adjusting his mannerisms, speech and physicality to match each. And Mara doesn't have it easy either, having to react differently to both while struggling with Lana's guilt in finding David more attentive and engaged than her actual husband. 

After seemingly years away, Hartnett returns in a major role and is also apparently now five times the actor he was, capturing the loneliness, anger and jealousy of a man who's lost everything. Believing Cliff doesn't appreciate what he has, David walks up to the edge of madness before crossing that line into the unthinkable, perhaps damning both of them to share in their own separate hell together. You may generally know where Brooker's headed from the start, but this Twilight Zone-inspired morality play will benefit from repeated viewings, satisfying the most cynical series purists with its brutal ending.

In "Mazey Day," increasingly disillusioned celebrity photographer Bo (Zazie Beetz) gets a tip that missing actress Mazey Day (Clara Rugaard) may be hiding out nearby following a hit-and-run overseas. Despite recently quitting the paparazzi game, she knows photos of the starlet could command a lot of cash. Looking to dig herself out of a financial hole, she follows some leads to locate Mazey, with disastrous consequences. 

The season's shortest episode is also its most underwhelming by a large margin, testing the theory that less is necessarily more with Black Mirror. From a technical standpoint, it's fine, but despite the next entry demonstrating how the show can successfully dip into unchartered territory, there just isn't a lot of purpose behind this, regardless of genre.   

Brooker setting the action in 2006 is smart since the very idea of a celebrity "disappearing" in the current age of social media is close to impossible, especially following a vehicular assault. The paparazzi was also at their most venomous during this era so that helps in setting the stage for what could have been a promising look at media obsession. Unfortunately, this takes a lesser route that isn't poorly executed, but just very run-of-the-mill. 

After making that hard narrative pivot, the intrigue comes to a sudden halt, leaving us with an entertaining diversion in search of something larger to say. Beetz makes an effective lead but can't overcome the deflation of that sudden detour, which leaves a potentially better story on the table in favor of shocks and gore.

A beautifully bleak opening set to Art Garfunkel's "Bright Eyes," begins the final episode, "Demon 79," which takes place in a small English town of Tipley, circa 1979. It follows meek, mild mannered department store associate Nida (Anjana Vasan) into work where she puts up with a prejudiced co-worker (Katherine Rose Morley) and boss (Nick Holder). Despite fleeting daydreams of enacting violent revenge, she remains composed and polite, quietly suffering as further anti-immigrant rhetoric is spewed outside the door by campaigning conservative politician Michael Smart (David Shields). 

When Nida takes home a mysterious wooden talisman from the store's basement, she inadvertently  unleashes an aspiring demon named Gaap (Paapa Essiedu), who appears in the human form of Boney M. band member Bobby Farrell. Told she has to make three human sacrifices before May Day or the world will end, she's suddenly faced with some monumental choices as the clock winds down. While definitely not a murderer, the skeptical Nida will need Gaap's help to learn quickly, assuming the fate of the world does really lay in her hands.

This joins "Beyond The Sea" as the best directed episodes of the season, as Vasan's heartbreaking turn proves to be the real draw here, with the actress nothing short of extraordinary in depicting the emotional stages this shy woman goes through, even before this supernatural entity appears. While its premise draws heavy parallels to the recent Knock at the Cabin, a better thematic comparison might be the classic Twilight Zone episode, "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street," at least in terms of its examination of "otherness" and xenophobia. 

Gaap believes Nida's been chosen because she's a good person, but also an easily corruptible one. And you see that aspect peeking through every corner of Vasan's performance, which has her character torn between doing what's dutifully expected and finally taking a stand. The comedic banter between Vasan and Essiedu keeps everything rolling, but her fear and anger is palpable when it starts seeping through to the surface.

It's one thing to talk about preemptively doing the world a favor by killing someone like Hitler, but not as easy to actually go through with when you're the person swinging that hammer. While the possibility of Nida being mentally ill hangs over this story like a specter, Brooker and co-writer Bisha K. Ali realize what such a decision would mean, ultimately staying true to their original conceit without undermining it. Divisive as this episode is, it's ironic that an homage to 70's British horror devoid of modern technology further illuminates how challenging perceptions has always been the series' biggest strength.