The Problem With 'Black Mirror'

Black Mirror is a grim, boundary-pushing anthology series created by Charlie Brooker, intended to explore the dark side of technology, raising questions about morality, ethics, and relationships in the modern age.

Or, at least, it used to be.

What began as a relatively small Channel 4 miniseries has grown into a monstrous, Americanised machine with mere echoes of its former charm. Following Netflix buying the rights to the series, there has been a change in content and form, with a lack of its previous nuance and subtlety, and the anthology aspect being replaced by a large, sprawling in-show universe which, although exciting for fans, completely misses the point.

Now, I’m not saying Black Mirror is a bad show. It’s not. With some episodes, such as Shut Up and Dance, there are original ideas and the trademark Black Mirror twist that we grew to love. Unfortunately, it’s not the show it used to be.

Even with episodes I greatly enjoyed, such as USS Callister, I couldn’t help but feel I was watching a typical, sci-fi show instead of the unpredictable and shocking series that it began as. As well as this, this episode is an example of the writers being at a clear loss for ideas. Or else, they have simply become stuck on one idea – that of a consciousness being placed into an inanimate object or, in the case of USS Callister, a video game. This idea originated in White Christmas, with the ‘Cookies’. Although initially shocking, it has becoming a recurring motif throughout the newer seasons, to the point where it’s not even interesting anymore. Perhaps Brooker should have started a separate series for this concept, so that episodes such as USS Callister, San Junipero and Black Museum could have existed in their own, bubble universe, without tainting Black Mirror.

As we can see, the anthology aspect, the exploration of different worlds has dissipated. Is this an inherently bad thing? No. But I can’t help but miss the stark contrast between episodes, not knowing what to expect – one minute you’re watching a prime minister have sex with a pig, and the next you’re in a dystopian future where the only “escape” from a mundane existence is to participate in a horrifying parallel to the X-Factor.

The stories were less flashy, simpler, and not a part of a larger narrative – but much more effective. White Bear, one of my personal favourites, is a perfect example of the twisted, mind-bending storytelling that the early seasons offered. It was a contained, intelligent story, and it forced the audience to really think about their own beliefs and ethics, and whether a person without their memory is the same person at all. Viewers came away with a question in their minds. In regard to the newest season, all most people seemed to come away with was the line ‘I fucked a polar bear.’ Not quite the same impact.

Easter eggs started to appear between various episodes, hinting to a shared universe, culminating in Black Museum in which items from almost every story are seen being kept in a museum together, confirming that, somehow, all of these stories are connected. This is a common theme I’ve noticed with anthology shows that run out of ways to be interesting. For example, American Horror Story, which began as a show in which each season was a separate story, forced a confusing connection in its most recent season, having characters appear together from different seasons despite being played by the same actors. Although this excited the fanbase by confirming long-held theories, it was not ultimately well-received, showing that sometimes, theories should remain theories.

Instead of coming up with new, creative ideas, it’s easier for the writers to throw in a few Easter eggs and hope this will make them seem clever. But it’s not a replacement for good writing, or originality. To me, it’s just lazy.

Does this mean I can never enjoy Black Mirror again? Of course not. But it’s hard, knowing what it once was, and could have been, to just enjoy it for what it is.

Perhaps whatever comes next in Black Mirror will be good, satisfying, and clever. Or maybe they’ll just play ‘Anyone Who Knows What Love Is’ for the millionth time and hope people will think this is smart, or that it holds some sort of significance. Hint: it doesn’t.