Black Mirror (Season 7)

Creator: Charlie Brooker
Starring: Rashida Jones, Chris O' Dowd, Tracee Ellis Ross, Siena Kelly, Rosy McEwen, Ben Bailey Smith, Issa Rae, Awkwafina, Emma Corrin, Harriet Walter, Peter Capaldi, Lewis Gribben, Will Poulter, Paul Giamatti, Patsy Ferran, Cristin Milioti, Jesse Plemons, Jimmi Simpson, Billy Magnussen
Original Airdate: 2025

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

If there's a recurring complaint about Charlie Brooker's British sci-fi anthology series Black Mirror, it's that its dark edge has gradually dulled since moving to Netflix in 2016 and becoming more "Americanized." And while there may be some truth to that, the bigger concern has been consistency, especially amid a revolving door of talent in front and behind the camera. With viewers often unsure when or if another season is coming, apathy can also set in, all while its critics continue to accuse Brooker of presenting repetitive variations on a similar theme. 

There's no denying that the dangers of modern technology provide its writers with endlessly fertile ground to draw from. But if the series always adheres to a comfortable formula (tech + humans = bad), veering too close or far from it has proved risky, especially when its most memorable entries tend to hit that sweet spot in between. This season continues the tradition, irritating those put off by the series' length and pacing while still appeasing fans enthralled with its Twilight Zone-inspired storytelling.

Because of its anthology format, none of the stories directly connect, but the show's been around long enough to have its own self contained universe, full of Easter eggs, callbacks, and tiny details tied to previous episodes. Now they've taken this further with a full blown sequel and spin-off that expand on what came before, while another cribs from the series' most beloved entry, suffering in comparison. The smartest entries always put the human element first, establishing its characters before their lives are upended by a twist that reveals who they really are. As usual, it's a trip worth taking, so long as you prepare yourself for a mixed bag of high and lows.

"Common People"  ★★½ (out of ★★★★)

When schoolteacher Amanda (Rashida Jones) falls into a coma with a brain tumor in director Aly Pankiw's depressing "Common People," her welder husband Mike (Chris O' Dowd) is approached by "Rivermind" representative Gaynor (Tracee Ellis Ross). If he signs on the dotted line for a monthly fee, the company can wirelessly transfer Amanda's lost brain function from its servers, giving her a second chance at life. But after she awakens and seemingly resumes normal activity, complications arise that require frequent subscription upgrades and more money to fix. And it's cash they just don't have, leading Mike to take desperate measures.

Though lacking surprises, this has its moments, mainly involving the procedure's wacky side effects and dire consequences related to Mike's perverse method for raising funds. A timely, damning indictment of the healthcare system, this bludgeons us with a message many already agree with, even if it doesn't offer a profound statement beyond watching the couple continuously suffer. The performances help pull it through, reminding us that the talented Jones should be doing more dramatic work while O' Dowd delivers as the anguished, supportive husband. You'll see the last scene coming from a mile away, but at least it's the right ending.

"Bête Noire" ★★★½ (out of ★★★★) 

The more unpredictable "Bête Noire" focuses on ace chocolate company food scientist Maria (Siena Kelly), who's stunned to see her old high school classmate Verity (Rosy McEwan) at headquarters before being hired as the newest assistant. But when Maria starts getting blamed for mistakes around the office, she suspects the quirky, eccentric Verity is behind it. Only there's a lot more to their history than we know, including a shocking secret that has Maria fighting to keep her job and sanity.

Skillfully directed by Toby Haynes, this contains a promising premise shrouded in mystery while doubling as a character study that explores the gap between perception and reality. After teasing a clever parable about gaslighting or maybe even some kind of Mandela Effect, the story's tech angle kicks in when the rug's pulled out in an intriguing third act twist. Featuring a handful of clever tiny details and two wildly entertaining performances, it's probably the most underappreciated of the season, likely to hold up on repeated watches. It takes a big swing toward the end that isn't completely earned, but the toxic interpersonal relationship keeps viewers guessing throughout its tight, well constructed 49 minutes. 

 

"Hotel Reverie" ★★½ (out of ★★★★)

Hotel Reverie features a promising premise that just doesn't reach its full potential despite the noblest intentions. When A-list star Brandy Friday (Issa Rae) unknowingly signs on to an AI-based remake of the classic film Hotel Reverie for ReDream productions, her consciousness gets uploaded into the black and white romantic drama. But after falling in love with a digital recreation of doomed actress Dorothy Chambers (Emma Corrin), sticking to the script becomes difficult, especially as an increasingly self aware Dorothy opens her eyes and heart to a world beyond the movie. Unfortunately, Brandy's desire for them to be together doesn't just threaten the film, but both their existences. 

Those classifying this as a poor man's "San Junipero" may actually be on to something beyond the obvious plot similarities of a romance defying constraints of time and space. It's almost as if there's a deliberate attempt by Brooker and director Haolu Wang an to recreate the magic of that Emmy winning episode, which is ironic for a script that revolves entirely around a remake. But Brooker's constant callbacks to that episode have actually done the series a disservice by setting other entries up for failure. This feels like one of them.

The real highlight is Emma Corrin's frighteningly believable turn as a golden age Hollywood star with personal demons who must face a sudden, shocking truth about herself. Issa Rae impresses less, though some of that can be attributed to playing a character already out of her element. They also lack chemistry, even if the bits within the film's AI universe do visually dazzle, providing a glimpse into what many hope won't be the future of movies. While marginally successful as a cautionary tale, sluggish pacing keeps the story at an arm's length. If nothing else, it's worth catching for Corrin's performance.

 

"Plaything" ★★★ (out of ★★★★)

An unofficial sequel to Black Mirror's 2018 interactive film Banderswitch, "Plaything" takes place in 2034, as manic, disheveled shoplifter Cameron Walker (Peter Capaldi) is linked by police to the murder of an unidentified victim decades ago. While interrogated, he opens up about the crime, which took place when the former PC Zone writer was invited by genius programmer Colin Ritman (Will Poulter) to review Tuckersoft's latest simulation game, "Thronglets." Ahead of its time, the game features no conflict, instead requiring the player to raise digital, sentient creatures. But when an obsessive Cameron becomes overly devoted to caring for them, tragedy strikes, causing him to go off the deep end.

Director David Slade keeps it simple, to the point that seeing Banderswitch is hardly a prerequisite to understanding or appreciating what unfolds. There's also a refreshingly direct throughline about human cruelty that may temporarily silence detractors who feel the series has lost its bite, with this episode coming closest to capturing the pessimistic world view of its early installments. And as good as Capaldi is in his unhinged turn, Lewis Gribbon equals him as younger Cameron, showing us how this awkward, supercharged bundle of nerves gets sucked into the addictive world of Colin's groundbreaking creation.  But it's really the juxtaposition of these innocent Minion-like creatures alongside an eventual eruption of violence that gives this episode its resonance. The implications are larger and wider reaching than the story's scale would suggest, leaving us with more to consider after the credits roll.

 

"Eulogy" ★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Deeply human and personal, "Eulogy" transfixes from start to finish, as lonely, middle-aged Phillip (Paul Giamatti) receives news from a company called "Eulogy" that his ex-girlfriend Carol (Hazel Monaghan) recently died. Despite having not seen her in decades, he's asked to contribute to the memorial via a kit that enables users to virtually step into their old photos. 

While taken through this process by The Guide (Patsy Ferran), an irritated, resistant Phillip realizes that he defaced all pictures of Carol after their break-up, adversely affecting memory retrieval. But as he walks through these photos, the pain and joy he experienced comes flooding back, forcing him to confront the actual truth about their relationship.

The concept of nostalgia therapy has been explored in Black Mirror a few times before, but never to this extent, and rarely as powerfully. Carrying thematic echoes of Serling's classic Twilight Zone episode "Walking Distance," there's no funny business here, as the episode's technological hook organically intertwines with its narrative to enhance this extremely relatable story of missed opportunity and regret. A touching treatise on the lies people tell themselves to make sense of their past choices, the episode isn't just Phillip's personal therapy session, but a virtual time capsule of sorts. 

Visually, directors Chris Barrett and Luke Taylor make the most of their photographic locations with Phillip physically traveling from one memory to the next, aided by an increasingly opinionated guide who extracts new truths from him at each stop. What results is something akin to a puzzle, with small clues gradually pushing the protagonist to drop his guard and acknowledge he wasn't exactly an innocent victim. It also shows how memories can positively and negatively co-exist in our minds, frequently clouding facts and obscuring objectivity. 

Giamatti hits all these heartbreaking beats with just the right mix of despair and bitterness, invoking genuine empathy for a cranky, irascible man who gets a front row seat to his biggest mistake. And as the dryly bemused guide with a secret, Farran makes for an ideal onscreen counterpart. The big twist is a slam dunk not just because it makes sense, but stands in stark contrast to the gloom and doom that's defined the series, this time using the technology to bring our protagonist closer to a more authentic version of himself and his past.

 

"USS Callister: Into Infinity" ★★★½ (out of ★★★★)  

Exciting and briskly paced, "USS Callister: Into Infinity" picks up after Callister Inc. employee Nanette (Cristin Milioti) discovered that deceased company CTO Robert Daly (Jesse Plemons) was harvesting her and other co-workers' DNA to create digital clones for his game. Now with sleazy CEO James Walton (Jimmi Simpson) being questioned by a reporter about Daly's technology, he and Nanette enter "Infinity" to help. But while Nanette's game avatar struggles to ensure her crew's survival by stealing space credits, a dark secret at the heart of Daly's creation puts them in further peril.  

The biggest surprise isn't how Brooker and returning director Toby Haynes seamlessly continue where Season 4's highly acclaimed, Star Trek-inspired space adventure left off, but that every original participant returns 7 years later. Of all the episodes, this is easily the most fun, immediately alleviating all concerns about remembering the previous chapter's details with a brief synopsis. But even those who missed the original should still find themselves immersed without confusion, investing in these quirky characters as the action shifts between the real world and this multiplayer universe.  

Milioti and Simpson entertainingly carry this in dual roles as the already blurry line separating game from reality is further obliterated by Daly, whose technological reach extends from beyond the grave. And while Plemons' screen time is less, he adds such a different dimension to his toxic, antisocial programmer it may as well be another part entirely. And in some ways it is, with Nanette and her crew finding that out the hard way, despite her best efforts to obtain a different result. Comedic and suspenseful, it's hour and a half flies by, raising the stakes while reaping the benefits of not being as heavy a watch as the other episodes. It's a worthy follow-up that not only builds on the original, but frequently surpasses it.                                 

American Fiction

Director: Cord Jefferson
Starring: Jeffrey Wright, Tracee Ellis Ross, Issa Rae, Sterling K. Brown, John Ortiz, Erika Alexander, Leslie Uggams, Adam Brody, Keith David, Okieriete Onaodowan, Myra Lucretia Taylor, Raymond Anthony Thomas, Michael Cyril Creighton
Running Time: 117 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

American Fiction revolves around a thought provoking premise that tackles issues of race, art and hypocrisy head on, as writer/director Cord Jefferson strikes a different kind of chord in adapting Percival Everett's 2001 novel, Erasure. His script handles a potentially controversial topic with brutal honesty, uncomfortably intersecting with the fictitious book it spoofs to examine the current cultural climate. It's far from perfect, but even with an overabundance of family drama and a bizarre ending, much of this works. 

A brilliant Jeffrey Wright plays a misunderstood genius too smart for his own good, going to extreme lengths to prove his point to a society he no longer recognizes. The plan works both better and worse than expected, but for a protagonist so hard on himself, unexpected success only magnifies his own insecurities and biting criticisms about a system too broken to fix. It's delightfully ironic watching this stubborn intellectual embraced for what he most detests, with Jefferson not only exploring themes of diversity, but how this idea of "selling out" complicates the already shaky balance between art and commerce. 

Los Angeles based African-American writer and professor Thelonious "Monk" Ellison (Wright) has just been put on temporary leave by his university for offending students during racially sensitive discussions. Per the board's request, he reluctantly returns to Boston to spend time with his family and attend a literary seminar. But his panel is overshadowed by popular author Sintara Golden's (Issa Rae) newest bestseller, We's Lives in Da Ghetto, which pedals in Black stereotypes such as gang violence, drugs and incarceration. It also stands in stark contrast to Monk's output, which his agent Arthur (John Ortiz) describes as not being "Black enough" to sell. 

Resented by his physician sister Lisa (Tracie Ellis Ross) for being the favorite son, Monk clashes with hard partying plastic surgeon brother Cliff (Sterling K. Brown), as they consider admitting their Alzheimer's afflicted mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams) into a care facility. But after dating lawyer Coraline (Erika Alexander), Monk begins writing My Pafology, a satirical novel exaggerating and spoofing the most offensive Black stereotypes. 

After mockingly submitting this book, the publishers are blown away, giving Monk a huge monetary advance as he adopts the fake persona of fugitive author "Stagg R. Leigh" for authenticity's sake. But while intentionally trying to sabotage the deal by demanding its title be changed to Fuck, hotshot Hollywood producer Wiley Valdespino (Adam Brody) expresses interest in adapting it into a feature film. Now, a mortified Monk must decide whether to reveal himself as being behind this literary masterpiece he intended as a big joke.

Even if many of Monk's viewpoints are on target, what ends up plaguing him is the self-destructive ways he goes about proving it. You can't help but feel a little empathy for someone who wants to be published for all the right reasons and create art of lasting significance. But his definition of quality differs greatly from the public, who he feels are being dishonest with themselves by celebrating the "poverty porn" in Sintara's book. 

Besides finding Sintara to be cashing in on racist tropes, Monk's astounded at the stupidity of anyone impressed by literature so transparently exploitive. For him it cuts deeper than just a mere difference in taste, but even when he pushes the envelope too far, Wright depicts this character with a dignity that still makes him seem like the smartest, most rational person in the room. There's a particularly humorous scene where Sintara reads embarrassing excerpts from her acclaimed novel and you can see the exasperation on Wright's face that the audience is somehow eating this all up. 

Whether Monk's correctly assessing trash is almost beside the point once we realize most of his anger is rooted in unresolved family turmoil. This does creates a bit of a dilemma for the film since that plot pales in comparison to the hijinks surrounding his novel. Jefferson may not completely succeed in tying both together, but Sterling K. Brown gives a breakout performance as Cliff, whose reckless persona buries a history of repressed pain. Leslie Uggams is subtly heartbreaking as the matriarch in mental decline, Tracee Ellis Ross makes maximum impact with her limited screen time, while Erika Alexander's Coraline has the patience of a saint. That is until Monk totally implodes, causing her to draw a line in the sand when it comes to his erratic behavior. 

It takes almost an hour for Jefferson to get to the meat of this story, but when he does there's plenty of insightful commentary about institutional bias. Monk's invitation to be a Literary Award judge backfires spectacularly, leading to an argument with Sintara that cuts to the core of the script's best ideas. There's no telling how high the film's ceiling could have been with more scenes like this. Instead, we get a tantalizing meta development in the vein of Stranger Than Fiction or Adaptation, teeing up a tease that flies off the rails without any clear resolution.

Whether Monk does turn some kind of a corner is definitely up for debate and analysis, like much of what occurs. It's also one of the few recent cinematic efforts dealing with race that takes real risks and could continue provoking discussions long after the credits roll. Frustrating and rewarding, it's ultimately about a writer banging his head against the wall, consumed by how everyone fails to see what's right in front of their faces.   

Barbie

Director: Greta Gerwig
Starring: Margot Robbie, Ryan Gosling, America Ferrera, Kate McKinnon, Issa Rae, Rhea Perlman, Will Ferrell, Simu Liu, Ariana Greenblatt, Michael Cera, Helen Mirren, Alexandra Shipp, Emma Mackey
Running Time: 114 min.
Rating: PG-13 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The toughest challenge facing a film based on Barbie is convincing viewers to set aside their worst preconceived notions, some of which may seem justified. As a concept, there's little reason to believe anyone other than Mattel and Warner Bros. benefits from bringing the most famous doll in contemporary culture to the big screen. And there are countless ways for this to go wrong, making all that trepidation understandable. But co-writer/director Greta Gerwig gets this, incorporating those potential criticisms into the plot and boldly addressing them head on.

The script stays about four or five steps ahead, disarming reluctant audiences by deconstructing the entire Barbie myth and using it to convey bigger ideas about gender, conformity, aging, masculinity, femininity, capitalism, consumerism and social change. And if that reads more like a syllabus than an easily accessible mainstream blockbuster based on a toy line, it's not. This still manages to be ridiculously fun, with a subversive, self-deprecating sense of humor to go along with the surprising performances and ambitiously elaborate comedic sequences. 

Closer to The Truman Show than The Lego Movie, it's obvious from its opening 2001: a Space Odyssey spoof and accompanying Helen Mirren narration that this will be something. We haven't a clue exactly what, though that becomes part of the charm. Immersing us in a universe that visually astounds and serves as the backdrop around which its entire meta fantasy revolves, Gerwig not only conceives a populist film, but a smart one that's worth revisiting to fully appreciate all it has to offer. 

"Stereotypical" Barbie (Margot Robbie) lives in Barbieland, a brightly colored community inhabited by various versions of Barbies and Kens, some current and others discontinued. While Kens spend most of their days at the beach hanging out, Barbies hold prestigious occupations like doctors, scientists, lawyers and politicians, garnering greater respect within society. One particular Ken (Ryan Gosling) exists solely to gain the attention and affections of Barbie, who appears uninterested in taking their relationship to another level. But when Barbie awakens in her Dreamhouse like every other morning, she realizes that something's gone horribly wrong. 

After coming down with inexplicable symptoms such as a sudden fear of death, flat feet and cellulite, Barbie seeks out disfigured outcast Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon), who reveals the only way to cure this is by traveling to the real world to find the child playing with her. So with Ken in tow, Barbie travels to Venice Beach, California to locate tween girl Sasha (Ariana Greenblatt), whose mom Gloria (America Ferrera) is a Mattel executive. But as Barbie suffers from serious culture shock and the company's bumbling CEO (Will Ferrell) plots to send her back to Barbieland, Ken picks up some damaging real world philosophies that threaten their happy community.

From the start you can tell things aren't what they appear in this seemingly utopian environment, and by the time Barbie hops in her convertible and boat for answers, the gamut of possibilities Gerwig and Noah Baumbach bring to the table start playing out. Accompanying the outrageous scenes of Barbie and Ken's attempts to assimilate into real life are crippling emotional blows to her entire sense of identity and purpose. But at least she has one, which is more than you can say for Ken, who tires of being an appendage and yearns to reinvent himself.   

Barbie realizing she doesn't have legions of female fans lined up to greet and thank her is a harsh wake-up call, but even harsher are the very valid reasons why. Spanning decades as a corporate product that's reflected both Mattel's whims and the values of those who purchased her over generations, she has a complicated history. The landscape's evolved since 1959, with the company often playing catch up, as many legitimate critiques of the toy line end up forming the script's foundation. So does the strained mother-daughter relationship Barbie lands right in the middle of, connecting like the best Toy Story installments do by bottling up nostalgic themes of outgrowing childhood. 

It's fittingly ironic this is what's garnered Margot Robbie her strongest notices and biggest box office when she's made a career cleverly evading inferior parts that could have resembled superficially written versions of Barbie. But this only makes it easier to respect everything she does to humanize a character who's also a knowing commentary on the actress playing it, as Mirren's narrator memorably acknowledges. Such a physical match for Barbie that they actually place the word "stereotypical" in front of her name, Robbie makes this a referendum on the doll's entire existence, shaken out of her complacency and contentment to see the world through real eyes rather than those of a billion dollar corporation.

If Barbie must now account for unfamiliar feelings of embarrassment and humiliation, Ken makes a different kind of discovery about himself that goes beyond pining after her. This epiphany results in the film's funniest montage, as images of horses, American flags and Sly Stallone flash before his eyes, planting the narcissistic seeds for a newfound patriarchal obsession. From there, Gosling's turn only grows more wildly unhinged, reaching its pinnacle with his show stopping "It's Ken" musical number. As a power struggle develops between the sexes, the onus is on Barbie to prevent the only home she knows from backsliding into Don't Worry Darling's retro prison. But it comes with the recognition that their former situation wasn't exactly the picture of equality either.

Nearly everyone else also get their opportunities to shine, managing to convey uniquely distinctive personalities amidst an entertaining assembly line of Kens and Barbies. America Ferrara and Ariana Greenblatt really deliver as the mother/daughter duo with a relatably strained relationship, even as the former is called upon to carry a lot of the script's trickiest material toward the end with a hugely important monologue. 

More recognizable names like Ferrell and McKinnon have rarely been used as purposefully, including a hilariously deadpan Michael Cera who steals every scene he's in as the ostracized and ignored Allan. A great Rhea Perlman plays what's best described as an essential mystery part that cuts to the story's core. It's brief, but she makes the most of every minute, radiating a warmth and sarcastic authenticity that helps sell the film's pivotal moment.

An elaborate musical beach battle squashes any lingering doubts Gerwig can't hold this all together, doing it in just under two hours to boot. And in constructing a Mattel playset come to life, production designer Sarah Greenwood's Barbieland creation is as fun to take in as the characters themselves, ensuring that the purely frivolous fluff everyone assumed this would be can still co-exist alongside biting satire.  

Even when slightly losing its grip as subtext becomes glaringly literal messaging, there's an almost immediate recovery, leading to a final act that skillfully ties all the preceding themes and ideas together. It comes as a relief in a year we've been pummeled by films about popular products, showing just how hard it is to walk that tightrope of not desecrating the brand while placating audiences weary of a feature length commercial. But what's still most mind boggling about the entire phenomenon is that when Gerwig was hired to make Barbie movie, this somehow ended up being her response.