Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (S2)

Available on Paramount+

It’s a great time to be a Star Trek fan. After the rocky Star Trek: Discovery, Paramount and CBS are treating us to this electrifying series, which follows the adventures of Captain Pike (Anson Mount) and company. I would be amiss if I didn’t start this review by stating just how much this show continues to feel like a love-letter to classic Trek. All of the adventures this season have felt like they were pulled straight from the most creative episodes of Next Generation. Not only does it capture the spirit of old Trek, but it blends it with sleek cinematography, fantastic production design, and visual effects that are better than most modern superhero movies.

Unlike other contemporary big budget TV, this series has a different adventure every episode, meaning we are treated to a great variety of storytelling that fuses multiple genres. While some detractors have bemoaned this season for its silliness, that’s what makes it a total riot in my eyes. For example, the crossover episode with the animated Lower Decks series was so much fun. To see Boimler and Mariner in live action interacting with the Enterprise crew was an absolute joy to behold. We are also treated to Trek’s first musical episode with the outstanding ‘Subspace Rhapsody’. Not only was it so funny to see singing and dancing from the likes of Spock and the Klingons, I also found the songs to be total earworms and the entire cast clearly put their all into performing them.

However, what really makes this show special are the characters. Obviously all our old favourites like Spock, Number One, and Pike get a lot to do, but this season I was particularly compelled by Dr. M’benga (Babs Olusanmokun) and La’an Noonien-Singh (Christina Chong). They arguably have some of the most dramatic arcs in the show and to see issues like PTSD and prejudice portrayed so well with these two is very rewarding.

Strange New Worlds continues to be a fantastic series for both newcomers to the franchise and life-long fans. It’s possibly my favourite piece of Trek media since the 2009 cinematic reboot and I cannot wait to see what they have in store for us next season, especially after that cliffhanger ending.

At Home with the Fury’s

Available on Netflix

For better or worse, reality television has become an ubiquitous aspect of our lives, to the extent where you don’t have to be a celebrity or remotely talented to document every facet of your life to the world. A global phenomenon that began with MTV’s The Osbournes and evolved into Keeping Up With the Kardashians has seemingly grown into a puzzling global demand to know the minutiae of the lives of even the most unimpressive of public figures.

Netflix’s At Home with the Fury’s promises to buck that trend, it being preoccupied with the lives of the undefeated, motor-mouthed heavyweight boxing champion Tyson Fury and his wife Paris, as well as their six children. Unlike the typical subjects of a reality series, the Fury’s reside in the more humble surroundings of Morecambe (albeit in a gargantuan mansion) and are distinctively working class, with both Tyson and Paris being admirably proud of their origins as travellers.

The former has long been one of sport’s most compelling figures, not merely due to his larger-than-life personality, but also his well-documented battle with mental health difficulties. His original comeback (not the phoney one that is documented in this series) is one of the most inspiring sporting triumphs of all time, and Fury has since worked commendably to improve mental health awareness amongst his fanbase.

It’s a shame then to see him come across so poorly in At Home with the Fury’s, during which he displays the emotional maturity of a child, frequently treats his wife with disdain, and tiresomely relates every talking point back to himself. Paris, on the other hand, is the undoubted star of the show, keeping her chaotic household running and frequently indulging her husband’s whims, all while admittedly resisting the urge to tip a trifle onto his head. Indeed, you would be forgiven for thinking that this whole ordeal is a cynical ploy to boost her own career.

Like many reality series, this is perversely entertaining fodder (I’d definitely wager that it’s the only show in which you’ll see a multi-millionaire feed their child packet pasta), just not to the extent that one would expect given the unusual premise and personalities involved. And for the Gypsy King himself, it’s a puzzling PR misstep that, reputationally at least, is likely to do more harm than good.

Fifteen-Love

Available on Amazon Prime

It’s a shame that this gripping six-part drama from Hania Elkington feel as timely as it does, given that it is concerned with an abusive relationship between a tennis prodigy and her coach, an older man who uses his position of power to take what he wants, when he wants it, and with scant regard for any resulting damage.

Fifteen-Love, which is co-directed by Eva Riley and Toby MacDonald, is charged by the performances of its two leads, with Poldark heartthrob Aidan Turner playing against type as the coercive and manipulative antagonist and newcomer Ella Lily Hyland in stellar form as a victim who decides to defy systematic odds and bring her abuser to justice.

Hyland is more than deserving of the plaudits that have been bestowed upon her performance, which makes for an incredibly complex analysis of the oscillating emotions that victims of sexual abuse are forced to endure. Throughout the series, we see her character frequently indulge in acts of self-sabotage and act obsessively towards her former mentor, which makes it abundantly clear to Fifteen-Love’s audience that the aftermath of abuse is seldom a linear experience.

Elkington also deserves plenty of credit for the way in which she tackles such a challenging topic; her writing always feels authentic and, most importantly, respectful, which often makes Fifteen-Love feel like an enlightening experience for viewers such as I who, for reasons both obvious and fortunate, can never relate to the experiences of its protagonist.

Perhaps above all else though, this feels like a call to arms - a sombre reminder that there is still so much work to do to achieve genuine equality and to reset the socio-economic relics that allow such abhorrent misconduct to so often go unchecked.

Henpocalypse, BBC

A certain section of the British public is on constant alert for the next great British sitcom. There have been many false dawns and damp squibs, but Henpocalypse, a deeply and authentically regional affair, might just be able to hold its weight with some of the best.

Callie Cooke is a uniquely charming lead. Authentically working class and Brummie in this series, she treads the line between being a star and being an everywoman. She maximises the sardonic funny in an already funny script and with a face or a look has the ability to make any moment or any line hilarious.

Every cast member in Henpocalypse brings something to their role and enhances Caroline Moran’s beautiful script. As alluded to, the show is richly regional, showcasing an underrepresented part of the country in the West Midlands. Some do the accent and the nuances better than others, but Bernadette (Elizabeth Berrington) does it best. Her character drives a lot of the humour in Henpocalypse and most embodies the stoic, dirty and disgusting character of the show.  

The world of Henpocalypse, like all of our favourite sitcoms, is a place we want to stay in. We get into some hilarious situations (war with a trio of kegel exercising pilates instructors), and there are funny one liners (fanny humour to finally rival dick humour), but the show is also underpinned by some pretty solid story.

The narrative reveals that Shelley (Callie Cooke) has actually cheated with the groom to be through flashbacks, and another well plotted narrative thread sees Jen (Kate O Flynn) infected with gangrene and running away with a hallucination of Danny Dyer. Both story strands are engaging and joyous.

All in all, Henpocalypse is a charming triumph. Laugh out loud funny while being packed with story and intrigue.

I’m a Virgo

Available on Amazon Prime

With his entertaining, but no less unsettling, debut feature Sorry to Bother You, Boots Riley distinguished himself as a filmmaker with a singular vision, one that fuses jarring aesthetics and offbeat comedy with more profound, socio-political musings.

This mini-series continues those themes and, like its aforementioned predecessor, is a deeply personal production that draws on Riley’s own life experiences, in particular his communist worldview and long-standing activist work. Given, however, that I’m a Virgo is about Cootie (Jharrel Jerome), a 13-foot-tall black teenager that is shielded from the outside world by his overbearing but well-intentioned aunt and uncle, the undercurrent of its narrative is not immediately apparent.

Instead, its deeper meaning is gradually unravelled over the course of seven episodes which see Cootie experience the outside world through his friendship with a group of fledgling activists (played by Brett Gray, Kara Young, and Allius Barnes) and unusual romance with Flora (Olivia Washington), whose work in a popular fast-food joint does not do justice to her true capabilities.

Jerome is typically wonderful in the lead role, bringing the same sensibility that he brought to his roles in Moonlight and the outstanding When They See Us. Whether Cootie’s gargantuan stature is intended to be an allegory for the experience of a young black man growing up in contemporary America is never made explicit, but both he and his cohorts are certainly displayed by Riley as being ‘other’. Moreover, the protagonists of I’m a Virgo are something which the established order, embodied most clearly by Walton Goggins’ comic book author turned crimefighter, wish to subjugate and control.

This, along with the odd and infrequent Parking Tickets cartoon sketches, distinguish the show as something completely out of the norm, a challenging and absorbing thesis on contemporary culture and the everyday experience of young African-Americans. Riley’s stylings may not be immediately accessible, but he is undoubtedly a creator of serious intellect and bravado.

Good Omens (Season Two)

There’s something of the great British literary tradition that oozes from every corner of Good Omens.

The setting, the cast and even the theme music have a Harry Potter-esque feel to them. Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) indulges in his quintessentially British book shop on the corner of a London street…and so do we.

Neil Gaimann, who by all accounts retains a hands on role with the series, remains a conduit between us and the establishment of British books, having originally co-wrote the series with a man responsible for building it: Terry Pratchett. For these reasons, there is something fundamentally cosy, comforting and British in the fabric of Good Omens that is retained in Season Two.

The new series opens on a bewildering note, as Archangel Gabriel (Jon Hamm) arrives naked and afraid at the door of Aziraphale’s bookshop, looking for help. The following six episodes work to bring us neatly back to this starting point, revealing why Gabriel appeared there in the first place. It’s a tidy and satisfying narrative arc that only a master like Gaimann could so easily pull off.

Season Two of Good Omens is as epic in scope as the first series and aims to tackle one of the universe’s biggest questions: where is the line between good and evil? Through Aziraphale and Crowley’s (David Tennant) timeline, we go back to the story of Job, in which heaven orders the death of Job’s children to test how loyal he is to God.

Following that, we visit the site of a 19th century grave robber, a girl stealing bodies and selling them on so she can afford to stay alive. In the process she is also advancing the study of medicine (she sells the bodies to a local surgeon).

Positing these two fables next to each other exposes the nuances of good and evil, and shows heaven and hell off as equally undesirable sides of the same coin.

The other main preoccupation of Season Two is unlikely love, with the most unlikely romance of the series occurring between Aziraphale and Crowley - Michale Sheen and David Tennant themselves. They are paired and partnered romantically throughout the series and their romance culminates in a kiss in the season finale. It’s a weird kiss. One you might expect of two old friends that didn’t actually want to kiss each other…

Good Omens Season Two manages to cover quite a lot of ground in six short episodes. Weighing good against evil in a quintessentially British setting is as enjoyable as you might imagine.

Secret Invasion

Available on Disney+ now

Marvel appear to have put the brakes on their small-screen output as of late, which - given the mixed success of their releases last year - may not be such a bad thing. While series such as WandaVision and Loki proved that the comic book powerhouse can deliver smart and affecting television, outings such as Ms. Marvel and She-Hulk felt more like a case of making content for the sake of it.

Secret Invasion doesn’t entirely represent an upgrade on those shows, but does feel distinctly more mature from much of the MCU’s more puerile showings, with the vibe of Kyle Bradstreet’s contained series being more that of Cold War espionage than your usual superhero antics. Above all else, the show serves as a great vehicle for Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury, who has oddly had to wait 11 movies before being placed front and centre of his own narrative.

Jackson is supported by a pretty impressive ensemble cast, with Emilia Clarke and Olivia Colman notably making their MCU bows (albeit in fairly perfunctory roles), and Kingsley Ben-Adir making for a more noteworthy villain than we have grown accustomed to. Franchise regulars Ben Mendhelson and Don Cheadle are also back, with the latter particularly having fun in a role that pleasingly plays against type.

While series director Ali Selim does a good job of crafting a show that feels more akin to Homeland than anything Avengers-related, Secret Invasion does ultimately fall foul of the general Marvel adage, in the sense that its finale essentially consists of two CGI-heavy, super-powered nemeses smashing and crashing through their differences. Nonetheless, that tiresome ending aside, this is a mostly engaging series that features some stellar acting from its impressive cast.

The Bear (Season 2)

Available on Disney+ now

The second season of Christopher Storer’s acclaimed culinary drama is every bit as intense as its first, with much of its story focused on the efforts of Carmy (the outstanding Jeremy Allen White) to transform his deceased brother’s tired sandwich shop into a critically acclaimed foodie hotspot. Storer’s clear affection for the state of Chicago and indie music is still clear for all to see, but this latest ten-episode run displays the writer-director’s penchant for empathetic analysis of the restaurant industry in the wake of COVID-19.

The Bear demonstrates not only the excruciating detail that chefs apply when serving up delicious food, but the ridiculous amount of hoops they have to jump through just to open their doors and then keep them open. The effects of the pandemic are also keenly felt, offering a stark reminder to viewers that, whilst many of our freedoms might have been restored, many are still navigating the aftermath of that sorry affair.

Allen White continues to excel in the lead role, delivering a performance that is filled to the brim with painstaking anxiety, irrepressible anger, and, most profoundly of all, deep sadness. His efforts, however, are once again matched by a stellar supporting cast that includes Ebon Moss-Bachrach, Ayo Edebiri, Lionel Boyce, Abby Elliot, and Liza Colón-Zayas, all of which are given ample time to shine over the course of the series, with Moss-Bachrach and Boyce particularly benefiting from their own character-focused episodes.

In terms of standout episodes, it is the sixth (Fishes) and tenth (The Bear) which stand out, with the former shining a light on the dysfunctional Berzatto family (with some help from an impressive roster of guest actors) and the latter providing an appropriately tense, despondent end to a show that is steadfast in its refusal to give its audience the neatly wrapped conclusions we so cravenly desire.

This is truly immaculately written television that marks its creator out as one of the industry’s brightest lights, and its leading actor as a talent worth keeping an eye on.

The Sixth Commandment, BBC

The Sixth Commandment has one of the strongest openings of the year. Accurately researched and recreated in line with true events, the first episode of this new BBC series saw an intricate and nuanced love story play out between Peter Farquhar (Timothy Spall) and Ben Field (Eanna Hardwicke).

Peter is an academic and a homosexual man in late age, who has lost any hope of finding love. When restrictions and loneliness imposed on him by his age, his religion and his sexuality are transcended by the arrival of Ben, we root for the two of them, hoping that their nuanced but beautiful corner of the world is preserved and protected.

The way the audience are duped mimics how Ben Field duped his victims. By the second episode of the series, we realise that Ben’s motives are impure and sadistic as he moves on to an entirely different love affair, this time with Ann Moore-Martin (Anne Reid). At this point we implicitly understand that Ben is systematically preying on and murdering elderly victims in the name of God, in order to benefit from them financially.

The second half of The Sixth Commandment takes on a different perspective and flips from showing Ben’s victims fall in love with him, to seeing him arrested and convicted in the courts. It’s a matter of personal preference, but watching Ben at work in the homes of Peter and Ann in episodes one and two does seem to elicit more drama, emotion, character and feeling than the courtroom scenes do. Despite being a manipulator and orator in court, Ben Field meets a satisfying end as he is sentenced to life imprisonment.

The Sixth Commandment’s themes of religion and literature lend it gravity, seriousness and weight and Ben, despite being lifted from real life, is a villain of Shakesperian proportions in this deeply gripping series.

Dave (Season 3)

Available on Disney+ now

The latest series of this semi-autobiographical comedy series by Dave Burd, otherwise known by his stage name of Lil Dicky, doesn’t stray too far away from the formula that made its previous two entries so entertaining. We are essentially still watching Burd navigate fame and, more pressingly, his own neuroses while seeking critical and commercial approval and the love of a woman he is yet to meet.

Once again, Dave is peppered with some riotous celebrity cameos, with the most notable including Killer Mike, Rick Ross, and Usher - who Lil Dicky encounters at an anxiety-inducing party - and Brad Pitt, Drake, and Rachel McAdams, who all contribute to a stellar final two episodes. Alas, despite these star turns, it’s still Lil Dicky’s real-life hype man GaTa who makes for the most compelling character, particularly in episodes five and eight, where his mental health struggles are once again laid bare.

While the show continues to impressively blend comedy with serious, real-word issues, this most recent instalment does have a propensity to frustrate, due largely to its protagonist’s own lack of character development. There are hints at romantic resolution throughout its ten-episode run which feel timely and appropriate, but they are annoyingly forsaken, presumably for the sake of trotting out a fourth season which, while welcome, is perhaps not entirely necessary from a narrative perspective.

Despite these gripes, there is still plenty to enjoy about Dave’s third season and it continues to showcase Burd as a distinctive comedic voice.

Poker Face

Available on Now TV and Sky Atlantic

Fans of Rian Johnson’s hugely successful Knives Out franchise are likely to find a lot of joy in Poker Face, which sees the director further indulge in his love for old school murder mysteries. Inspired by Columbo and other such procedurals, the series focuses on Natasha Lyonne’s down-and-out casino worker, whose mysterious, innate ability to detect lies allows her to solve a spate of perplexing murders while on the run from a vengeful casino boss.

Lyonne is tremendous in the lead role and fully justifies Johnson’s decision to build his show around her, with her deadpan comic stylings standing her apart from almost all other leading ladies working today. Along the way, she is aided by an impressive guest cast, the most notable turns from which come from Adrien Brody, Chloë Sevigny, Hong Chau, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Nick Nolte, and Ron Perlman, while Benjamin Bratt also impresses as a recurring antagonist.

Nonetheless, your opinion of Poker Face is sure to be shaped by the extent to which you enjoy its genre influences. If you’re like me, then you might end up finding its format more than a little repetitive by the time it reaches its mid-way point, which is why I’m not overly enamoured by the news that it has been renewed for a second season. By the time the admittedly tight final two episodes come round, Poker Face had outstayed its welcome in my house, but different-minded viewers will no doubt find it a thrill all the way through.

If only one thing is certain about this show, it’s that it reiterates Lyonne’s unique star quality, which was rightfully acknowledged by her recent Emmy nomination.

Platonic

Available on Apple TV+

Apple has demonstrated a niche for glossy, inoffensive comedy since foraging into the world of television, evidenced no better than the roaring success of Ted Lasso. With that show now having finished, there’s something of a football-sized hole in the company’s small-screen schedule.

Shrinking, co-created by Ted Lasso alumni, was a promising first attempt to move past Jason Sudeikis’ twee stylings. Platonic, which reunites Bad Neighbours co-stars Rose Bryne and Seth Rogen, is not. The show, created by real-life couple Francesca Delbanco and Nicholas Stoller (who directed the aforementioned Bad Neighbours franchise), is focused on a problematic friendship between Bryne’s disillusioned stay-at-home-mom and Rogen’s hopeless-but-hip manchild.

One can only assume that the intention of Delbanco and Stoller was to deliver a modern retelling of When Harry Met Sally, one that explores the age-old question of whether a man and woman can truly ever just be friends. However, the key difference between that romcom classic and Platonic is that the latter’s central characters are so intensely unlikeable that it’s nigh on impossible to invest, let alone resonate, with their respective arcs.

Indeed, Platonic has a lazy air about it that makes you feel as if the show’s creators thought that Bryne and Rogen’s admittedly undeniable star power would be enough for viewers to ignore just how clumsy and occasionally problematic the show’s storytelling is. For some, it might well be, but I found this to be a painfully posey, unfunny affair.

The Idol

Available on Now TV and Sky Atlantic

Anyone who has witnessed a smidgen of Euphoria’s audaciousness will know that Sam Levinson is a creator that, for better or worse, has a knack for getting tongues to wag. That show has always been a morally complex affair - in one breath a daring exploration of teenage vices, in another a gratuitous and voyeuristic sexcapade. 

The Idol, co-created by Levinson with Abel ‘The Weeknd’ Tesfaye and Reza Fahim, requires no such compromise from its audience, as it is brazenly vulgar in such a way that only the most depraved of viewers could find artistry in its sordidness. 

Focused on Lily-Rose Depp’s titular pop idol and her coercive relationship with Tesfaye’s cult leader/con-artist, the series is essentially a highlight reel of Levinson’s worst impulses as a director, with every rare moment of character development forsaken for an act of sexual violence that intends to shock but only succeeds in making you question the mental wellbeing of The Idol’s creators.

Art has always had an innate propensity to challenge convention (and long may that continue), but directors such as Levinson - whether consciously or otherwise - fetishise and, at their very worst, trivialise addiction, sexual abuse, and trauma in such a needlessly hollow way that it strips their work of any value it might otherwise have had. There are moments in The Idol that are desperately ugly enough to make you feel complicit in their making just by tuning in, so much so that, by the final episode, you’re just relieved the ordeal is over. 

Since it concluded its problematically short five-episode run, many have speculated whether The Idol’s well-documented production issues meant that the show was always doomed to failure. It’s certainly intriguing to consider what sort of story its original director Amy Seimetz (She Dies Tomorrow, The Girlfriend Experience) would have told, especially when you consider the show in tandem with the problematic experiences of real-life pop idols such as Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus, and Kesha.     

Alas, what we got was one of the worst television series HBO has ever put its good name to, one that is nowhere near as gripping as it clearly thinks it is and, in Tesfaye, features one of the most leaden leading man to ever be put to screen.

Best Interests, BBC

Jack Thorne is back writing TV and this time he tackled a theme and a cause close to his heart: disability.

Best Interests tells the heart wrenching story of a family torn apart in the last days of their daughters life. Marney (Niamh Moriarty) has muscular dystrophy. Her terminal condition has rendered her sister Katie (Alison Oliver) invisible her whole life and, eventually, it will turn husband and wife Nicci (Sharon Horgan) and Andrew (Michael Sheen) against each other.

Within this moral quagmire of a series, where the doctors, the family and the courts disagree over whether to keep Marnie alive, the NHS come out firmly on top. Doctors in this series are presented as human, but heroes nonetheless. Consultant, Samantha (Noma Dumezweni) has done all she can to care for Marney throughout her entire life, she sees ending it as an end to her suffering, as a mercy.

Sharon Horgan’s Nicci goes on an entirely different journey. By the end of the series, her desperation and love for her daughter turns her into a villain. She uses money from a pro-life Christian charity to fight to keep Marney alive in the courts. She clings to testimony from a questionable American doctor and throws her husband Andrew under the bus in an attempt to keep Marnie alive. Her trajectory in particular asks the audience to reflect on the impossible choices parents have to make when their children die before them.

Best Interests is a programme that talks to us about the gravity of terminal illness in children - the sadness, the hopelessness and the unexpected joy. The show has the ability to make you laugh, cry and teach you that every moment with the ones you love is a gift.

Never Have I Ever S4, Netflix

The fourth and final instalment of Netflix’s Never Have I Ever has graced our screens. Over the last 3 years we’ve followed our chaotic fave, Devi Vishwakumar (Maitreyi Ramakrishnan), navigate grief, growth, and the consequences of her own actions. 

Season 4’s Devi is worlds apart from the young woman we were introduced to in 2020. Once embarrassed of her Indian background, the series finale shows Devi fully embracing herself and her heritage before heading off to college. 

Set in the Californian sunshine, the show is light-hearted and follows a high school student “coming of age” whilst haphazardly manoeuvring her way through loss, academic work, and self-worth. Along the way, romantically Devi finds herself torn between her academic nemesis Ben and school heartthrob Paxton. The outcome of who she ends up is revealed in the season’s final moments.

Mindy Kaling, the show’s creator, has not shied away from making the protagonist cruel on occasion. But at the same time, Devi is full of love, warmth and care. It’s been incredibly refreshing seeing an Asian character on screen who is desired, textured and complex - a complete contrast to the stereotypical beige, boring and depictions of women of colour that we see so often. Devi is rebellious, messy and an extremely flawed protagonist at times. But despite this, she does appear to be self-aware at times - which is exactly why audiences can resonate with her. 

No stranger to self-sabotage, in Season 4 we see Devi’s most daring choice yet as she applies to only top colleges and initially doesn’t get accepted into any of them. To make matters worse, she makes a bad first impression to an admissions officer at the high school college fair. Embarrassed and too mortified to tell the truth, Devi gets caught up in a web of lies that spirals out of control. Since Devi was a child, her dream has been to attend Ivy league university Princeton. From Season 1, it’s a dream Devi and her late father, Mohan, used to frequently chat about before he sadly passed away. 

Filled with funny moments and humorous faux pas, the Vishwukamar’s multi-generational household has also been at the centre of emotional turmoil and tear-jerking moments. The loss of Mohan strains the relationship Devi has with her mother, Nalini - but also brings Devi closer to her other female family members in her life. 

Sitting comfortably in Netflix’s top 10 trending list, Never Have I Ever gave us a satisfying final chapter filled with laughter, light relief and lovely moments.

FUBAR

Available now on Netflix

The ever-increasing prestige of the small screen has been well documented, and is of course one of the chief reasons sites such as this exist. What started with the bravura approach to storytelling of networks such as HBO has eventually transformed into a status quo in which every actor, no matter how famous, wants their own prestige project. 

The latest big name to have been bested by his own FOMO is Arnold Schwarzenegger, who once upon a time was about as big a Hollywood star as you could get. Here, he lends his star power to FUBAR, created by Nick Santora and centered on a soon-to-be-retired CIA operative (Schwarzenegger) who is pulled back into the field after he discovers that his daughter (Monica Barbaro) is also working for the force.

Santora’s show is hardly original and almost certainly wouldn’t work without its leading man, but nonetheless retains a self-awareness that Schwarzenegger fans will only be too familiar with. There are plenty of knowing nods to the Austrian Oak’s more celebrated work, with FUBAR’s overarching story often feeling like a rehash of prior action flicks. 

Naturally, your enjoyment of the show will be dictated by your appetite for such borderline meta-textual storytelling, although I suspect viewers such as I with an unapologetic soft spot for Schwarzenegger’s patented absurdity will have plenty of fun with this light-hearted, empty-headed series.

Black Mirror S6 E5 - Demon 79

Black Mirror Season 6 was a violent series. We witnessed family massacres; basement tortures and werewolf attacks. The violence was sometimes shocking and sometimes gratuitous, the type you might expect Quentin Tarantino to be challenged on if it appeared in one of his films.

An adjacent and reoccurring theme in Brooker’s work is humanity’s love of blood sports. The paparazzi in Episode 4, Mazey Day showed us how much some people love to watch others suffer.

With both of these ideas in the ether, the finale of Season 6 of Black Mirror asked the question: is murder ever a good idea? A nice idea? Protagonist Nida (Anjana Vasan) becomes acquainted with a demon (Paapa Essiedu) via a talisman who tells her she must kill three people to avoid the end of the world.

If dodging the apocalypse wasn’t already a good enough reason for Nida to kill, her demon friend gives her insight into the lives and futures of her victims: they are rapists and murderers themselves, they deserve to die…don’t they? What is a good reason to kill someone? Revenge? To prevent further death or suffering? This episode explores every avenue.

Brooker and co-writer Bisha K.Ali work hard to build your appetite for murder in this finale. By the time Nida comes face to face with politician Michael Smart (David Shields), you’re gagging to get the hammer and do it yourself. We’ve witnessed Nida become the victim of the vilest kind of racism, we’ve seen that Smart will lead the UK into a Nazi dictatorship: smack him on the head, fade to black and we can all go and make a cup of tea.

For compassionate reasons, Nida can’t go through with it and is instead arrested. The end of the world ensues. What is the message of this conclusion? For me it speaks to the chaos of murder and war. That there can be no morality or reason for killing. The path to revenge, to murder and to war lead only to one destination: oblivion.

Black Mirror S6 E4 - Mazey Day

Black Mirror takes a hard and sudden turn with Mazey Day, directed by Uta Briesewitz and written by Charlie Brooker.  It follows paparazzi Bo (Zazie Beetz) “pulled out of retirement” to locate – and take pictures of – the missing titular character, actress Mazey Day (Clara Rugaard) when she flees a set in the Czech Republic. But, of course, as Bo and her paparazzi accomplices unravel the Mazey Day conspiracy, nothing is as it seems. It’s an interesting take on the private investigator mystery formula, and an admittedly clever premise for a satire on celebrity culture. But what makes Mazey Day stand out within this season is not its premise, but its baffling, left-field twist. 

It is difficult to discuss Mazey Day without discussing where it ends up. Where the opening leads you to believe that the character Mazey Day killed someone in a drug-fuelled car accident, the latter part of the episode focuses on Bo and the paparazzi dealing with the consequences of learning the strange truth behind the incident. Even if the reveal is somewhat confusing and not particularly well set-up, you can still see the outline of an interesting metaphor, with celebrity culture leading people to dark, morbid, and hedonistically wild places. It’s a premise – and twist – that certainly would have benefited from more development of the Mazey Day character, which is played excellently by Clara Rugaard, but is unfortunately not given enough screentime to come off as more than a slightly blank slate. 

Besides this, Mazey Day is one of the more tonally “fun” episodes of the series, with witty, snarky young characters and dialogue being centre frame. Thanks to the unending sympathy the episode grants Bo, with her money problems, charisma, and human empathy, the episode lacks the same cynicism and hopelessness that the series usually has, compounded by the twist that completely removes the premise from reality. It’s a popular formula, and for the many casual viewers, it probably works. But it isn’t that fresh or memorable. 

Discounting the fact that it is a standalone episode in an anthology series, Mazey Day is Black Mirror at its most utterly unrecognisable. It certainly has its audience, but time will tell if that audience is the same one that usually enjoys this series. 

Black Mirror S6 E3 - Beyond The Sea

At its midpoint, Black Mirror’s season 6 brings us its longest and maybe quietest episode, Beyond the Sea. directed by John Crowley (Brooklyn, The Goldfinch), it details the interactions between two 1969 astronauts – the stoic Cliff (Aaron Paul) and the talkative and artistic David (Josh Hartnett). Each man has a robotic double on Earth that he can tap back into - but when tragedy befalls David’s replica, the men begin sharing Cliff’s, to a slow but predictably terrible outcome involving Cliff’s wife and David’s natural charisma. 

The two-person spacecraft is not particularly cramped or unpleasant. In fact, the reality presented by this episode is of a pretty pleasant and utopic form of spaceflight - it’s clear just from the setup that rather than a depiction of literal space travel, it serves as a metaphor, two men adrift at sea, forced to put their lives in the hands of the other. 

For Beyond the Sea does not represent a surrender to technology, or even to a higher power – it represents surrender to your fellow man, in all his impulses and imperfections. Being forced to trust him, with family or with a very large space shuttle, and being forced – and failing – to overcome unfeeling and closed-off masculinity to deal with his intensely dangerous trauma. For this reason, this episode is notably low-key, not exaggerating the aesthetics of its time and place, and dealing with technology far removed from anything even resembling what was possible in 1969. It draws the focus away from dystopia and onto the characters, their problems and interactions existing almost in a vacuum. 

Beyond the Sea does not feel like a Black Mirror episode, even with the show’s loosely defined visual and narrative styles. The concept of a robotic double may have been done a number of times in the show’s earlier AI episodes, and the two-man spacecraft almost reads like a retreading of the cabin in White Christmas – but unlike White Christmas, nothing about Beyond the Sea feels grand, or even satirical. It’s a small-scale tale of grief and infidelity set in a small country house and an even smaller spacecraft, doused in the aesthetics of small-town Americana, centred on a couple of small, powerless little characters. It has the trademark pessimism of the series, but being set in the 1960s, it’s a timeless pessimism - one of human imperfection interacting with the unattainable magic of technology. 

For a fan of the Black Mirror formula, one might be disappointed to be greeted with this feature-length period drama midway through the season, closer to fantasy than it is to sci-fi. However, as this series progresses past its sixth consecutive iteration, it’s interesting to see that something relatively fresh can still be made within it, perhaps indicating a movement towards a show more versatile in what it’s able to produce, thematically and stylistically.

Black Mirror S6 E2 – Loch Henry

Available on Netflix now

The phenomenon that is the true crime documentary is under the lens of this Black Mirror episode, directed by Sam Miller and written by Charlie Brooker. Loch Henry focuses on dating film students Davis (Samuel Blenkin) and Pia (Myha'la Herrold), who travel to the titular countryside town to visit the former’s widowed mother Janet (Monica Dolan) before commencing work on their next project.

However, during their trip Davis and Pia learn about a notorious serial killer whose murdering of innocent tourists many years ago has had a drastic effect on the town’s economy, as well as a discordant link to the death of Davis’ father. This prompts them to change tact and make their own true crime flick about the murders, a decision which, in true Black Mirror fashion, leads to a shocking discovery that has life-changing implications for all involved.

Given how dark this episode is, it was unsurprising to learn that Miller’s previous work includes a stint on Luther, that most macabre of detective procedurals. The director deserves plenty of credit for Loch Henry, which makes for a gripping near-hour of television that pleasingly doesn’t feel all that similar to Black Mirror’s usual oeuvre. It is helped in no small part by compelling performances from Blenkin, Herrold, John Hannah and in particular Dolan, whose character’s about-turn is not easy to see coming.

Brooker gives plenty of service to his topic, not just from a tonal perspective but also in the sense that his screenplay is unafraid to lean into some of the more problematic aspects of the genre, such as the unintentional tendency to immortalise its subjects (we all probably know of at least one idiot that dressed up as Jeffrey Dahmer for Halloween last year). In that respect, it is a highly effective analysis of one of the more unsuspected televisual trends of the last decade.