In the short 1917 poem First Known When Lost by the First World War poet Edward Thomas, the narrator reflects on a changing landscape, only noticing an area of woodland when it has been chopped down and, in revelation, seeing for the first time what was always hidden behind it.1 This point of view, ironically only possible when the primary object itselfâsomething we have always taken for grantedâhas been utterly destroyed, echoes in the opening to Black Mirror, wherein we see a buffering signal before the screen cracks. In many respects, the opening to Black Mirror is emphatically a moment of extreme nomophobia. Nomophobiaâa newly transpired fearâis defined by Monika Prasad et al. as âdiscomfort, anxiety, nervousness or anguish caused by being out of contact with a mobile phone.â2 By breaking âourâ phoneâthe ultimate way to make us lose contact with a communication deviceâBlack Mirror casts us into unknown territory, exploiting a nomophobiacâs panicked, vertiginous reaction of âWhat can I do? What happens now?â Having destroyed our phone, tablet, laptop or even television (whichever âblack mirrorâ we are watching on) we can be taken into more arcane principles and traditions of storytelling. In other words, what can a broken black mirror tell us about all black mirrors? And in so doing, what else can be perceived for the very first time?
This chapter explores the repertoire of Black Mirror within the context of dark fantasy and domestic media, using both historical and contemporary examples. Since it first aired in 2011, Black Mirror has been a preeminent example of contemporary dark fantasy, blurring generic boundaries so that science fiction, horror, thriller or satire meld into one other.
Despite this eclectic sense of genre, Black Mirror identifies core anxieties that haunt present-day societyâespecially the fundamental transformations initiated by digital technologyâand extrapolates them to their disturbing conclusions. In this regard, Black Mirror is habitually regarded as âcutting edgeâ with review headlines such as the Metro newspaperâs âBlack Mirror saw Charlie Brooker nail the zeitgeistâ3 being a typical popular and critical stance. That said, Black Mirror can be regarded as belonging to the rich tradition of âtelefantasy,â a term used more by fans than industry which, as Catherine Johnson explains, signals the hybridising of âa wide range of fantasy, science-fiction and horror television programmes,â4 often acquiring a cult status. In this regard, Black Mirror can be understood as belonging to a wider tradition of dark fantasy on television such as The Twilight Zone (1959â1964) and The Outer Limits (1963â1965). As will become clear through the analysis offered in this chapter, there is a particularly rich and nuanced relationship with The Twilight Zone with Black Mirror echoing, homaging and reimagining various plots, tropes and narrative strategies of this pioneering television programme. Moreover, Black Mirror resonates not just with the telefantasy of The Twilight Zone and others, but also with examples of dark audio fantasy from the ground-breaking days of radioâsuch as Lights Out (1934â1947) and Quiet, Please (1947â1949)âthrough to contemporary podcasting with shows such as The Truth (2011 onwards). Dark telefantasy in 1950â1970s television presented metaphorical narratives of social anxiety, ranging from the fear of Communism to the loss of societal values. Similarly, 1930â1950s dark fantasy on radio tapped into the social anxieties of a world on the brink of, or enduring, war or exposed the paranoia lying beneath the burgeoning American Dream. Certainly, there were works of cinemaâexamples of film noir and Science Fiction B-moviesâthat reflected the same zeitgeist, but radio and television can be distinctively liminal and perniciously intimate. After all, where better to disquiet and unnerve an audience than in the seeming comfort and sanctity of their own homes?
The sense of domestic media is particularly critical in the experience of consuming Black Mirror: the âblack mirrorâ of the opening is, and can only be, our personal screen. In this regard, Black Mirror is a descendant of ground-breaking examples of television and radio dark fantasy, genres that, at their most effective, can infiltrate our domestic environments and extrapolate our life-concerns, making both seem dangerous and fragile. This link to, and alienation of, the domestic context of consumption resonates with Ruth Griffinâs concept of âthe domestic imaginaryâ in relation to televisual horror (principally American Horror Story [2011 onwards] and Hemlock Grove [2013â2015]). For Griffin, the domestic imaginary comprises the âimage-conceptualities that shape how we think of the domestic sphere and which in turn help to inform what constitutes the elements of the domestic imaginary in the first place.â5 Consequently, horror television can interrogate and manipulate the concepts, practices and experiences of our domestic world. The implications of this permit Griffin to speculate on:
âŠthe extent to which Horror Television and its ilk helps to create or reinforce our imaginings, channelled as it is into the most intimate of domestic spaces, the living room (and perhaps even the bedroom). To what extent, if any, are our dreams and nightmares, our psyches and unconscious imaginings, affected by what we view on that flickering box in the corner which has for many supplanted the flickering fire in the hearth around which the original gothic stories were told?6
Arguably, Black Mirrorâs domestic imaginary goes beyond the housebound life of the living room and bedroom. Black Mirror explores the critical significance of reception and consumption in relation to the dualism of the domestic/social which is increasingly obfuscated by contemporary media platforms. These platforms are portable, ubiquitous and diffused: we can watch digital content anywhere and our digital content can watch us. Just as twentieth-century instances of dark media fantasy made their audiences confront their doubts and dreads, in the twenty-first century shows such as Black Mirror and the contemporaneous The Truth podcast has provocatively animated contemporary angsts and the dangers of dystopia. Core to this is a proliferating sense of diffraction in the digital age: the individualised feeds of social media and an abdication to algorithmic decision-making perhaps do not give us freedom and happiness but have instigated a hellish echo chamber of illusions and oppression in which the fundamental meaning and future of humanity itself is under interrogation.
Despite Black Mirrorâs ânewness,â the creators Charlie Brooker and Annabel Jones openly acknowledge pre-existing screen influences and inspirations. For example, Brooker emphasises that, in its depiction of a dystopia of 24/7 entertainment, Nigel Knealeâs BBC television drama Year of the Sex Olympics (1968) was âa really strong influenceâ7 on the Black Mirror episode Fifteen Million Merits (2011). Similarly, Brooker highlights the British films Quatermass and the Pit (1967) and The Wicker Man (1973) in relation to Black Mirrorâs 2013 episode âWhite Bear.â8 Most profoundly, an overarching principle is revealed when Annabel Jones recounts the genesis of the idea and intention: Brookerâs desire to recreate a classic but currently absent form, the anthology television programme comprising âideas-driven single dramas.â9 To this end, Jones indicates that Brooker âwas familiar with The Twilight Zone and I was familiar with Tales of the Unexpected.â10 This would be core to their pitch and Shane Allen, the producer who originally commissioned Black Mirror, recalls:
They had an entirety of vision about what a modern Twilight Zone-esque anthology series could tackle. They would identify a social media trend or piece of technology and do a âWhat if?â extreme cautionary tale with it.11
Or, as Brooker puts it, âJust as the Twilight Zone would talk about McCarthyism, weâre going to talk about Apple.â12 Of course, The Twilight Zone story-worlds went deeper than anti-Communist anxiety and the programme followed the tradition of the metaphorical and allegorical potential of fantastic genres so that it, as Erik Mortenson asserts:
âŠchallenged viewer assumptions by forcing its audience to consider the existential, social, and political problems of the day. In order to discuss such delicate matters as nuclear anxiety, racial tension, and suburban conformity, Serling had to refract his messages through a fascinating combination of the film noir and science fiction genres.13
Undoubtedly, The Twilight Zone (1959â1964) is the most significant cultural touchstone in relation to Black Mirror and is synonymous with its creator (and frequently writer and host-narrator) Rod Serling in much the same way that Black Mirror is synonymous with Charlie Brooker. This association with a core creative personality probably has a central role in facilitating the cult status of a show. Erik Mortenson describes The Twilight Zone as âthe most celebrated television series of all time.â14 This statement may seem explainable by reason of populist nostalgia but there is also a more complex reason. As Robert L. Mack ...