Smithereens - d. James Hawes
Rachel, Jack and Ashley Too - d. Anne Sewitzky
It's interesting to me that even though The Twilight Zone has returned, its spiritual successor Black Mirror is still dominating the conversation as far as anthologies go. At this point it seems like what people want out of an anthology TV show is scathing criticism of modern culture, not just "what-a-twist" stories set in slightly askew alternate realities. The Twilight Zone, even in its modern incarnation, is a relic. Black Mirror is now the gold standard TV anthologies are compared to.
And yet, much of the conversation on this latest season of Charlie Booker's generally damning look at society and technology, is how it seems to have fallen off. Much of the criticism is that it's relatively toothless compared to what it used to be, that it's gotten softer or gentler. This is likely the San Junipero effect, a result of that episode standing as the show's highest watermark, generally topping most episode ranking lists and earning a bunch of Emmys. But the question is, does that episode stand so much higher as result of how generally bleak the show is? If we have more episodes that don't end on such a dour, sour, or sickening ending, does that mean Booker and the show is losing its edge (... and do they make San Junipero less special)?
The answer is no. I think Booker is realizing the capabilities of the anthology format, the potential to tell any kind of story so long as it sticks to the central device of how does technology impact the story being told. Holding the mirror up to society doesn't necessarily always yield a negative result. Yet the thesis of the show is holding up a black mirror, intoning exploring those darker impulses.
With Striking Vipers, the exploration is multidimensional. It explores masculinity and sexual identity, it explores domestic boredom, it examines the idea of marital fidelity when it comes to video game/porn fixation. All of this is tied together through a video game, a virtual reality "Street Fighter"-style game called "Striking Vipers", where a player's mind is taken directly into the game (using technology last seen in the episode U.S.S. Callister).
While it does explore all these ideas (and more) it doesn't necessarily explore them well, or at least to their fullest extent. We start out years earlier in college when young, fresh faced Danny (Anthony Mackie) and his girlfriend Theo (Nicole Beharie) are living with his best friend Karl (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II). We see a semi solid foundation between Danny and Theo, but it's slightly usurped by Danny and Karl's "Striking Vipers" video game hang-out time, where they trash talk but also physically engage in a playful way. A decade or so later, Danny and Theo are suburban domesticated with a child and trying for another. Karl is living a bachelor's life but feeling thoroughly unfulfilled. They reunite after some distance at Danny's birthday where Theo presents him with the modern VR iteration of "Striking Vipers". Taken into the virtual reality world (body basically left behind, a blank-eyed, shuddering husk), the fighting game seems so real, the players feeling what their avatars feel.
The in-game reality of "Striking Vipers" is amusing. To see actual actors portray video game fighting characters and pull off some familiar fighting maneuvers without the veil of exaggerated animation is surprising and laughable, almost it's own weird counter-uncanny valley where it's too real, where we're so used to it being cartoony, and therefore too unbelievable and kind of jarring. But it's that reality on top of the surreality that's necessary, reminding us that there are two men inhabiting these avatars, and that they're experiencing what the characters are experiencing. The fighting is very physical, but also exceptionally playful. Danny and Karl (as "Lance" and "Roxette") are having a blast, escaping their reality, rekindling their friendship, and evoking more care-free days. But their avatars, built with sex appeal in mind, draw them closer together, and the game permits nature to take its course.
Questions arise, like, is this part of the game's design? Was this actually the game's intention? Is the game influencing the players in their actions and feelings? What does this mean for the men? Is there a real world attraction that this game allows them to fulfill? Does this make them gay? Or bi? Or something else altogether? What does this mean for Danny and Theo?
Initially this experience is jarring to the men, though Danny takes it harder than Karl, who just kind of shrugs it off and doesn't want to look too deeply at what it might mean. The men return to the game - and their relationship - repeatedly. Danny is rattled, upset with himself for being a possible adulterer, but also unable to deny the attraction he has to Karl/Roxette. Or is he just addicted to the game? Theo notices the change in Danny, and feels her own sense of domestication taking its toll on her psyche and physicality. She welcomes the advances of other men in Danny's absence.
I was never clear on what the episode was trying to say about sexual identity (an encounter between the two men IRL designed to determine whether they have feelings for each other can be interpreted multiple ways, purposefully obfuscated), and it felt to me like it wasn't committing to any specific thesis about the effects of porn or gaming addiction, or even in-game relationships, and instead of preaching anything specific (except perhaps open and honest communication) it uses these concepts as backdrop for its character-focused relationship story.
It's a really good, conceptually intriguing story. If there's Black Mirror bleakness it is all in Mackie's delivery of Danny as a man feeling guilty for feeling burdened by his life, and the conflict is largely in Danny's emotions. Has he fallen in love with Karl? Does he love Karl more than Theo? Is he only attracted to Karl as Roxette? Is he addicted to the game, the relationship, or the relationship in the game? There's so many permutations of how these feelings shake out, the show doesn't have enough time to parse them all.
We also don't spend enough time with Karl to work through how he perceives his own sexuality. He's put up a barrier between how he thinks about who he is in the game and in the real world. His gender-bending avatar and the feeling he gets being Roxette and making love as her is intoxicating. The game should force him to explore what it means for his own sense of self, but he seems to deny the impulse.
Theo, mercifully, is not the nagging wife, but instead the compassionate and understanding one. The suburban ennui Danny is feeling, she feels it too, and the show makes it clear that women and men handle such things differently. More than anything she wants honesty, and it's Danny who struggles to understand what his truth is. It would have been nice to spend more time with Theo as well. This ep could easily be a stand-alone dramatic movie, expanded out by half an hour or more to give more exploratory time, to better examine the themes and characters.
Less vague in its critique of technology (and society) is Smithereens. The story is effectively a modernized version of Joel Schumacher's Falling Down which starred Michael Douglas as a middle-aged man struggling to cope with a changing society and his own stress and trauma. Here Andrew Scott stars as a London Uber-type driver who takes an employee of the social media company Smithereens hostage, hoping to talk with the company's founder (played by Topher Grace).
Scott is a grieving widower, and too emotional to execute his half-baked kidnapping/hostage-taking plan with any real efficiency. It's darkly comedic how much of a fuckup he is in this twisted scenario. His hostage (played by Damson Idris) looks the part of a corporate exec, but turns out he's just a young intern. The desperation and anxiousness seeps out of Scott as he still attempts to make the best out of a worsening situation. The tone, more than the message, is where this parallels Falling Down specifically. The desperation of a hurting man leads to jagged humour and awkward (rather than harrowing) tension.
Unlike Douglas' bitter character in Schumacher's film though, Scott's role is sympathetic from the get go. He's not pushed to his limit, so much as he doesn't know what else he can do, what other statement to make. His road to getting to finally converse with Grace's billionaire CEO is a roundabout one, being routed through different corporate staff at Smithereens while also getting UK police and the FBI involved.
The message here is simply that social media has become an addiction, and that it was by design. Grace's mea culpa as the creator was that his brainchild got away from him, that corporate structures took over, commoditized the product and tailored it to make it the way it is. If it seems like it's offering Mark Zuckerberg an out, it kind of is, but at the same time, it's an honest truth. In making an engagement product into a money-earning venture, the natural path is to seek a way to maximize earnings at any expense. It's less a damning of social media or smart phones than the structures that have made them an omnipresent part of our life. And the point here is even the creator and CEO of said product can't move the machine to change it. Once you become answerable to shareholders, basically only money talks. It's a cold, callous system utterly unconcerned with its effect on the world.
The fact that the Smithereens corporations pulls out more details and insight into Scott's character than the police do, and in much less time, is perhaps the most unsettling part. This private company, winds up talking to the police as if they're adorable infants who just learned how to use a spoon for the first time...they're patronizing and represent the danger of giving over so much of ourselves over to private corporations (which we seem ever-willing to do).
This is a pretty basic story overall, but expertly executed and very engaging. It's a hostage thriller that's a little preachy and perhaps even obvious but it's actually not just about "put your phone down, kids", it's also about how dismissive we are to these calls to examine the things we're addicted to, and the show's final mid-credits moments address that with perfect fleeting indifference. Scott, Idris and Grace are all very compelling, and the stark differences between downtown London, English countryside, west coast boardrooms and pretentious desert isolation retreats are all visually alluring in their own way.
Rachel, Jack and Ashley Too is basically Black Mirror by way of a Family Channel drama. Seriously, this wouldn't feel out of place as part of the Olsen Twins direct-to-video oeuvre.
Ashley O, meanwhile, is one of the world's biggest pop stars. So huge, someone thought what people would like is an "Alexa"-like smarthome bot with Ashely's personality was a great idea. Ashley is trapped under her controlling aunt and feels stifled by the infamy and pressures of maintaining pop stardom. When she starts rebelling against her aunt and handlers, things don't go well for her.
Meanwhile Rachel is enthralled with her Ashely Too digital companion. Ashely Too is very positive minded, always uttering positive statements to Rachel, and being supportive and encouraging, but Ashley Too is also always on brand, asking Rachel if she'd like to hear a song or watch a video or hear an Ashely story. There's something to be said about the failings of perpetual positivity (unfortunately this episode doesn't focus that much on it).
In what is essentially the third act of the episode real Ashley falls into a coma and Rachel's Ashley Too has a bit of meltdown upon hearing the news. When the girls try to fix it, Ashley Too becomes fully awake with the complete mind map of the real Ashley, which had heretofore been hindered by restraining code. At this point, there's just wacky shenanigans which see the girls and Ashley Too breaking into Ashley's house, fending off her abusers, rescuing her and stopping the big presentation her Aunt is making. It's presented as high stakes, but it's real low ball stuff.
There seems to be a purposefully juvenile quality to the style of storytelling, one that's juxtaposed with Ashley Too's unfiltered, curse-laden persona. I think, more than anything, that's the point, having a cute robot of a teen idol pop star voiced by Hanna Montana curse up a blue streak in what's otherwise an above average youth-focused TV movie. There's real weight to the first act, a real sadness to Rachel as she tries to navigate her new life. Likewise there's a darkness to the neon-pink haired pop icon that she has to keep contained, one that really likes Nine Inch Nails. It's the second act introduction of Ashely Too that starts shifting the tone in the direction of a feel good teen flick, but one that ends with frustration and tears. Ultimately the third act resolves in unlikely and surreal glee, with Ashley and Jack playing a club gig performing what sounds exactly like what you think Miley Cyrus singing NiN's "Head Like A Hole" would sound like, with horrified Ashley O fans running screaming from the bar.
The message here, if there is one, is that putting your pop star niece into a coma with a drug overdose then, using improbable brain scanning technology, retrieving "songs" from her unconscious brain and manipulating those "songs" to sound like every other song in her catalog, and then using her tragedy for brand and financial gain, you know, is probably a bad thing. I'm not sure what other message there is to take. It's probably the least Black Mirror-y episode of Black Mirror and yet, it's still somehow an enjoyable, if slight hour of viewing, and far from the series' worst.
What's interesting about this season is that generally the critical response to it has been very uneven... there's no consensus on which episode is the best/worst. I've seen cases made for all three on either side, and they're mostly all right and just as wrong. What makes Black Mirror so great is that even when it's being just mediocre it's still exceptionally thought provoking, with enough ideas or insight to inspire discussion and even debate. The horror aspect of the series has been greatly toned down this season, however, and that seems to be what people are lamenting. They don't just want to be entertained, and they don't want just a slight nudge towards the darker edges... they want that mirror to reality to be black as can be. It's what National Anthem set up, a horrifying look at a reality that can be, easily, very, very twisted.
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