"Counterpart," Year One

Minor spoilers ahead.

It took me much longer than I intended to finish the first season of "Counterpart." I was initially drawn in by the cast, which features J.K. Simmons, Olivia Williams, Harry Lloyd, and Stephen Rea. I was less enthused about the gloomy visuals and Cold War atmosphere. The series is set in and around Berlin, full of cold gray architecture and people in heavy overcoats. However, it's the perfect setting for a spy thriller.

And that's what "Counterpart" is, ultimately. The premise may emphasize the more fantastical elements, but the bones of the series are all about the espionage. Howard Silk (Simmons), is a low level cog in a Kafkaesque organization, the Office of Interchange, or OI, that is hiding the existence of a parallel universe that contains doubles of everyone in our world. There are, however, key differences that have resulted in strained relations between the two sides. Harold's double, an arrogant, much higher ranked agent, crosses over the border one day and begins to involve Harold in the unfolding intrigue.

"Counterpart' functions similarly to "The Leftovers," which was also about an alternate reality where something fantastical had caused a fundamental change to the world. Neither of these shows is really interested in the mechanism of the big cataclysm, and there's not much else supernatural going on. Instead, the focus is on the consequences of the change on a very human scale. "Counterpart" is tightly focused on the employees of the secretive organization that controls the crossing point between the two worlds. They chase infiltrators, uncover conspiracies, and tussle over the control of information. Part of the fun is figuring out how all the various characters are related to each other and impact the story. In addition to Howard and his wife Emily (Williams), other major characters include a weaselly young OI director, Peter Quayle (Lloyd) and his lovely wife Clare (Nazanin Boniadi), a contract killer, Baldwin (Sara Serraiocco), and a secretive mastermind, Alexander Pope (Rea), who mentored Harold's double.

It's easy to see why J.K. Simmons picked this project as his follow-up to "Whiplash" - playing the two versions of Howard Silk gives him a lot of opportunity to flex his acting muscles. Some of the most exciting moments in the series involve Simmons essentially having conversations with himself. The lives and personalities of Harold and his double are so different, that it invites the audience to puzzle over how the divergence happened. Was it because of the influence of Alexander Pope? Was it because certain events happened to one and not the other? Or is it something more innate? The series also examines the cases where doubles have switched sides or even switched places, and the impact this has on the people around them.

All the material involving Howard Silk is fantastic, and Simmons' performances shine, especially when the doubles interact. However, some of the secondary characters are less successful. The whole subplot with Baldwin is pretty tedious, especially as it seems to exist mostly as an excuse for dodgy lesbian sex scenes. The narrative is often murky and I had trouble telling some of the actors apart. However, I like what they do with Emily and the Quayles. It takes a while, but Harry Lloyd emerges as a strong secondary lead, and there's a fantastic episode entirely built around Clare. Olivia Williams doesn't get as much to do as she should, but I'm hopeful that she's being set up for more interesting things next season.

So far the worldbuilding has been slow, as the creators are more interested in digging into the characters' personal lives and deep dark secrets. There's the potential for the show to become more of a genre piece, as we learn more of the series mythology, but the first season does a good job of being an entertaining espionage thriller and character study. However, it does take some patience to get through the slow spots, which is why I think "Counterpart" didn't attract nearly the audience that it could have.

It's a little disappointing to know that this is one of those cases where a much longer planned series has been cut short by cancellation, but the execution of the first season is strong enough that I'll be looking forward to the second.
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"Sandman" is Coming

An adaptation of Neil Gaiman's "Sandman" comic has been one of my holy grails for decades.  It is far and away one of my favorite pieces of media, and I've kept an eye on the various attempts to turn it into a theatrical film or television series over the years.  After multiple failures, I've learned not to get my hopes up whenever a new effort is announced. This time around, however, it looks like it's finally going to happen.  

Netflix has just paid DC an exorbitant sum just to license the property, and "Sandman" creator Neil Gaiman is onboard as an executive producer, along with David Goyer.  However, the creative reins seem to be with Allan Heinberg, who wrote "Wonder Woman" for Patty Jenkins, and has a background in comics. The plan is to adapt the first arc of "Sandman," "Preludes and Nocturnes," into an eleven episode first season.  Something could still go wrong at this point, as it has with every other attempt to adapt "Sandman." Netflix has been trying to curb expenses, and several high profile projects have never made it out of development. However, the odds look pretty good compared to the last few attempts.

And I have such mixed feelings about it.  Over the years, I've come to the conclusion that no adaptation of "Sandman" is far preferable to a bad adaptation of "Sandman."  Going the series route means that there's going to be more opportunity to do "Sandman" right, to give the story the time and space that it needs.  However, the creators may waste that opportunity. The worst case scenario is what happened to "Lucifer," the adaptation of a "Sandman" spinoff comic.  The FOX "Lucifer" series just took a couple of the characters and concepts from the comic and stuck them together with a typical police procedural formula.  Suddenly a series about examining the nature of free will was about fighting crime. And "Lucifer" was a hit, of course, running three years on FOX and another on Netflix.     

Also, frankly the creative team isn't inspiring much confidence.  Gaiman's involvement is a plus, of course, but Goyer has a very mixed track record.  I'm less familiar with Heinberg, but the vast majority of his television work is in dramedies and soaps, like "Grey's Anatomy" and "The O.C."  I know the auteur theory is bunk, but there doesn't seem to be anyone with a really strong voice or vision involved here, like a Noah Hawley or a Sam Esmail.  And with a property as wildly ambitious, weird, and unorthodox as "Sandman," you really need someone with some sort of abiding vision to get that across. Goyer and Heinberg strike me as awfully pedestrian for the job.  On the other hand, there's such a thing as too much vision. Witness the glorious mess of Bryan Fuller's first season of "American Gods," adapted from Neil Gaiman's fantasy novel.    

I have to remind myself that different doesn't necessarily mean bad.  I'm sure you could make a perfectly lovely show about Morpheus, Lord of Dreams and personification of the human concept of fantasy, solving mysteries and fighting crime.  It's more likely that we'll see some variation on the superhero action movie template, which would be perfectly fine. "Preludes and Nocturnes" becomes a fairly typical fetch quest story without too much tinkering, and features a decent villain.  So does the second big arc, "The Doll's House." Even watered down and rejiggered to be more appealing to the mainstream, like the "Preacher" and "The Walking Dead" adaptations have been, this kind of take on "Sandman" could be a lot of fun to watch.  

However, the parts of "Sandman" that I'd really love to see onscreen are the parts that don't fit comfortably into any formula.  It's the issues like "Three Septembers and a January," which is a loving biography of a nineteenth century madman. Or "Facade," about a superhero who has become a shut-in.  Or "A Midsummer Night's Dream," which stages the Shakespeare play and fills the audience with real, dangerous faeries. The series became as much an anthology as a serialized work toward the end, full of dozens and dozens of wildly different kinds of fantastical stories.  And it'll be impossible to do that justice. And I know I'm bound to be disappointed.

Still, in spite of myself, I'm really excited about the Netflix "Sandman."  It'll be at least two years until we see so much as a promotional image, but I've spent the last few days scouring Twitter and Reddit and the usual comic book news sites.  I've been reading up again on the past adaptation attempts, and wondering if a feature version with Joseph Gordon-Levitt as the Corinthian would have been so bad. And, for the umpteenth time, I've been reading my "Sandman" graphic novels, and reminding myself that anything that gets people to pay more attention to the series will ultimately be a good thing.   

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And What Didn't Make My Top Ten Films of 2018

As a companion piece to my Top Ten list, every year I write a post to discuss some of the other major films that got a lot of attention, in order to give some context to my own choices. I find that writing this type of analysis piece helpful when working out how I feel about my list and the year in film as a whole. It's also usually a lot of fun. Please note that I will not be writing about films listed among my honorable mentions, and there's already an entire post devoted to my middling responses to "Mission: Impossible - Fallout" and "Paddington 2."

Oscar season this year was a lot of fun, because the reactions to some of the nominees were so divided.  Going down the list of Best Picture contenders, I have no particular hard feelings toward "Green Book" or "Bohemian Rhapsody," which I thought were just fine for what they were, if a little old fashioned in a comfort food kind of way.  Apparently, I like them better than most. "A Star is Born" was lovely, and the right movie for the right moment in time. It wasn't, however, a version of the story that connected with me, especially as I have very fond memories of the Judy Garland and James Mason musical version.  "Black Panther" is an indisputable cultural milestone for doing some important things really, really well. However, I also found it too deficient in other areas to call it exceptional as a whole. Oh, and "Vice" was pretty awful.

More interesting are the films that attracted a lot of attention because they were snubbed.  This includes "If Beale Street Could Talk," "First Reformed," "Eighth Grade" "Hereditary," and "First Man."  Now "Beale Street" is a gorgeous piece of filmmaking, but the impeccable style can't make up for the sparseness of the content.  I spent so much of the movie wishing it were about everyone around the central couple instead of the couple themselves. "First Reformed" completely lost me with its ending, though I appreciate its aims.  "Eighth Grade" is such a perfect little slice of teenage misery and topical in a way that not enough films are. It was just so slight, it left me frustrated. "Hereditary" was good fun as a visceral experience, but I found it more disgusting than scary or disturbing.  As for "First Man," the technical quality is first rate, but there's no mystery why such a cold, somber take on the space race didn't catch on with audiences.

Smaller films that had a lot of heat behind them included "Blindspotting," "The Rider" and several documentaries.  I really enjoyed "Blindspotting," especially alongside "Sorry to Bother You," but it was a year of lots of good films about Oakland and the African-American experience, and "Blindspotting" just didn't make the cut.  "The Rider," frankly, is a film which I don't understand the appeal of. I'm sympathetic toward the protagonist, but I don't feel that having Brady Jandreau essentially play himself adds much to the experience. And while I grew up with Fred Rogers and adore his work as much as anyone, "Won't You Be My Neighbor" strikes me as having been so successful due to the nostalgia of its audience.  It's a nice walk down memory lane, but that's all it is. "Three Identical Strangers" and "Free Solo" have far more interesting subject matter, and are explored in welcome depth. Didn't crack my top twenty, but they're up there.

Popular hits that I feel deserve a mention include "Game Night" and "Blockers," which were both enjoyably adult comedies without being too immature about it.  "Ready Player One" was a technical marvel even if there was a lot wrongheaded about it. I thoroughly enjoyed "Infinity War" as stupidly outsized spectacle, and "Crazy Rich Asians" made me very happy and almost made thirty-plus years of Asian solidarity watching worth it.  Finally, "Black Mirror: Bandersnatch" was certainly an interesting experiment, even if nothing ultimately comes of it.

Alas, I didn't watch enough foreign films to be able to include a section for them this year.  Films that just missed spots on the honorable mentions roll include "Revenge," "Isle of Dogs," "The Tale," and Asghar Farhadi's "Everybody Knows."

And that's my 2018 in film.  See you next time.

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My Top Ten Films of 2018

This list is coming fairly early in the year with me, though there are a lot of 2018 foreign films that I still need to see.  I'm perfectly happy leaving those for the "Plus One" spot for next year. I saw slightly more features in total than last year, reversing the recent downward trend.  However, I've been shifting away from mainstream films toward more independent and Netflix releases lately.

My criteria for eligibility require that a film must have been released in its own home country during 2018, so film festivals and other special screenings don't count.  Picks are unranked and listed in no particular order, previously posted reviews are linked where available, and the "Plus One" spot is reserved for the best film of the previous year that I didn't manage to see in time for the last list. And here we go.

You Were Never Really Here - A horrific, whimsical, terribly sad look into the mind of a traumatized hit man as he struggles to complete his latest job.  Director Lynne Ramsay examines the physical and psychic costs of violence in unusual detail, and there's real thoughtfulness and care in the way that violence is depicted in this film.  The stream-of-consciousness narrative is potent and absorbing, while Joaquin Phoenix's performance is one of his most touching. His casual conversation with a dying man he's just shot is unforgettable.

The Favourite - I've been wary of Yorgos Lanthimos, but I love how he and Olivia Colman turned the obscure Queen Anne into a cinematic icon.  Here, she's a distaff King Lear, a figure of great power and tragedy trapped in a hell of her own making. Unlike Lear, however, she's very funny, and supported by an ensemble of vile schemers who are also very funny.  As they vie for position and influence, old costume drama tropes are upended, bawdy adult content is liberally applied, and the trappings of nobility never looked so perverse.

Leave No Trace -  I like how deliberately paced the film is, giving us a chance to experience each new development and change of scenery along with the characters.  And here the scenery is everything, mirroring the emotional state of our leads and their relationship. It's also a rare film where there is no villain, no character can be said to be in the wrong, and everyone generally wants to be kind and welcoming.  It questions the worth of society, but embraces community and compromise in such a lovely way. And the act of letting go.

Capernaum - What makes this portrait of childhood misery a cut above the rest is the committed performance of its young lead.  The systematic breaking down of the protagonist is made so much more impactful because he demonstrates again and again that he is resourceful, clever, loyal and worthy of our sympathies.  I also appreciate the way that the film approaches certain hot button political topics, tying the social ills we see to various moral questions. The child's perspective neatly reframes the conversation in a way that really drives its points home.     

BlacKkKlansman - One of the most pointedly political and topical films that Spike Lee has made in a while, but also one of the most entertaining and funny.  It helps the copious commentary go down so much easier, as skewerings of the KKK, the media, and the Man, are deftly worked into a rolicking yarn about a daring police operation that delivers some real fist-pumping moments of triumph.  The cast is especially strong, from John David Washington and Adam Driver as the leads, to the unsung character actors playing the ghastly gang of KKK members

Burning - Lee Chang-dong considers the nature of belief and the transience of human existence, this time through the story of a murder that we have no evidence was actually committed.  The pace is slow, but the story is absorbing, laying out how our protagonist's obsession grows and grows until the shocking ending seems all but inevitable. Lee finds such intriguing ways to express the film's themes, from the unseen cat to momentary glimpses of reflected sunlight.  Then there's the reptilian interloper played by Steven Yeun, a fascinating mystery himself.

Can You Ever Forgive Me? - In a year of so many self-important dramas about substance abusers and  LGBT folks, it's nice to come across a film about a pair of LGBT alcoholics who have absolutely no time for or interest in self-pity.  Melissa McCarthy kills it as the misanthropic Lee Israel, with Richard Grant as her charming partner in crime/drinking buddy. Watching them con their way through New York's literary establishment is a joy, but watching Israel rediscover and accept her own passion is even more so.  They don't make enough biopics like this anymore.

Lean on Pete - A harrowing boy and his horse story that is the farthest thing from uplifting.  It follows an Oregon teenager who is desperate to save an aging racehorse, though they boy's situation is hardly much better than the horse's.  Candidly exploring the lonelier expanses of the Pacific Northwest and its fringe-dwelling inhabitants, this can be viewed as a western of a sort.  However, it's a western that's bleakly devoid of much hope or promise, where the indifference of modern society can be just as dangerous and cruel as anything in the wild.   

Spider-man: Into the Spiderverse - I like saving a spot my lists for the mot purely enjoyable film I saw, and this year that spot has to go to "Spider-verse."  It is an explosion of creativity and innovation, willing to upend the Spidey status-quo even as it pays homage to it. I love all the new characters, and the way the old ones are rebooted or recontextualized.  The storytelling is so clever, the concepts are so appealing, and the central messages of diversity and perseverance are immensely touching. Miles may not be your Spidey, but he's the one we all deserve.

Roma - Alfonso Cuaron's most intimate and personal film is set in the Mexico City of his youth, but contains events and images as epic as anything found in his Hollywood work.  The level of the filmmaking is exemplary throughout, and every element from the performances to the sound design are just a pleasure to experience. The cinematography stands out, however, with more than one impressive shot where I was left to wonder how the filmmakers had managed to accomplish such a feat.  The greatest marvel however, was undoubtedly Yalitza Aparicio's heartfelt lead performance.

Plus One

Western - A group of German construction workers take on a job in Bulgaria, where tensions develop between them and the local villagers.  Barely able to communicate with each other, the two groups keep their distance until one of the Germans becomes curious and starts reaching out to the villagers.  The films is an absorbing, frequently frustrating watch that got me intrigued and kept me guessing. One potential key is the film's title, evoking other tales of unknown frontiers and clashing cultures.

Honorable Mentions

Shirkers

We the Animals

Shoplifters

Minding the Gap

Happy as Lazzaro

Annihilation

Suspiria

American Animals

Sorry to Bother You

• Beast

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Resurrecting "Romeo and Juliet"

Franco Zeffirelli's 1968 film version of "Romeo and Juliet" has a reputation that precedes it.   Fifty years ago, it was a smash hit and a critical darling that secured a Best Picture nomination.  It was the first major production to use teenage actors in the main roles, newcomers Leonard Whiting and Olivia Hussey.  It was shot in Italy by a largely British and Italian crew, with the production company of the legendary Dino de Laurentiis. The main theme by Nino Rota was a popular instrumental piece that I heard often when I was younger.  

Despite all this, I was not looking forward to watching the movie.  Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" was never remotely one of my favorites.  Honestly, I found it pretty tedious and difficult to relate to, both as a teenager who had to read the play for school, and as an adult.  I'd enjoyed Baz Luhrmann's wacky modern-day retelling from the '90s, but wasn't especially impressed with it either. Everything seemed to happen so quickly and with so many histrionics - love declarations, marriage, feuds, duels, banishments, deceptions, and finally death.   The kids marry less than 24 hours after they first meet and die three days after that. It was silly and absurd.

What I was missing, of course, was so much of the cultural and historical context - context  that Zefirelli's version does a much better job of providing than any of the modern versions.  With a dreamy Italian landscape full of beautiful architecture, and everyone decked out in Danilo Donati's colorful costumes, it was easier to accept that we were hundreds of years ago in the Renaissance era, when a girl could expect to be dutifully  married off at thirteen, and matrimony was a strict prerequisite to physical affection. And while the rival families are more easily converted into Jets and Sharks, or crime organizations, that sense of absolute familial loyalty is far more palpable here.    

Whiting and Hussey are a big part of why the film works as well as it does.  Shakespeare's lines sound far more natural coming out of their mouths than they ever did from Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes.  The dialogue is truncated for the film, but otherwise untouched. Romeo and Juliet's declarations of love are still overly flowery and ridiculous, but there's something about hearing the words coming from a pair of enthusiastic youngsters who are completely swept up in their passion for each other.  The actors are so energetic and lively, breathing so much life into the poetry. The two of them feel like they're constantly in motion as they navigate the throes of young love, and their notorious intimate scenes are wonderfully earnest and physical. Even Juliet musing aloud to herself on the balcony involves hugging herself in a private moment of delight.  The film never feels stuffy or outdated for a moment.

What struck me over and over again was how foolhardy the kids are, and yet how admirable.  This is the first version I've seen where it hit me how much the two of them give up to be together, how much they risk and how much they're up against.  The feud between the Montagues and Capulets is never merely in the background, but a far more constant element of the story. Zeffirelli stages a full scale riot right at the start, and the threat of violence never dissipates.  The floppy-haired gang of youths playing the Montagues and Capulets can't help looking like "West Side Story" extras, and the part of Romeo famously almost went to Paul McCartney. However, their fighting and dueling sequences are terrific, and violent enough to make the deaths impactful.  A standout sequence is the death of Mercutio (John McEnery) at the hands of Tybalt (Michael York), an awful, miserable end that provides the impetus for all the tragedy to come.

In the end, this is the only version of "Romeo and Juliet" I've seen where I was sad to see the young lovers expire.  Zeffirelli sold the tragedy because he and the actors got me to believe that once upon a time, Romeo and Juliet were believable human beings who were truly in love.  And maybe that love made them desperate and stupid, but they never hesitated to embrace their fates wholeheartedly, as only bright young things ever could. Maybe it's because I'm no longer young myself that it's easier to see and appreciate that.

And after all this time, it's nice to know that the film's love theme has lyrics.  Pretty good ones too!

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Are We Past Peak TV?

Netflix cancelled "The Santa Clarita Diet" and a few other underperforming shows.  Amazon Prime has been pulling indie films out of rotation. "Game of Thrones" and "The Big Bang Theory" are over, and there are no obvious replacements in sight.  There are still some massively ambitious projects on the horizon, like "The Mandalorian" and the "Lord of the Rings" series, but it feels like the crazy momentum behind television series production has started slowing down.  

We've been living in the era of Peak TV for a while now.  495 scripted series were aired or streamed in 2018, a slight increase from the 487 in 2017.   By contrast, there were 216 scripted shows in 2010. Online platforms are responsible for most of the deluge, currently producing over half of these shows.  However, cable output has also increased significantly. The numbers are expected to climb further with the introduction of more streaming services like Disney+ and Apple TV, defying earlier predictions that the bubble was due to pop.  However, the expansion seems to be slowing.

As I've previously opined on this blog, Peak TV has brought us some wonderful things.  We get new content year round. Shows have been allowed to become more niche and idiosyncratic, with their creatives enjoying far more creative freedom than they would have in the past.  The quality of shows in general has massively improved, even though there are plenty of stinkers. I'm constantly inundated with recommendations for interesting shows that I have to reluctantly pass up on watching, because I'm already watching too many others.  Someday I'll get around to "Barry." Someday.

Even better, the industry has seen a positive transformation as it has left the monoculture behind, making efforts to diversify.  There's still a long way to go, but women and minorities are making significant gains in representation, both onscreen and off. Last year, I mentioned that it was the first time I ever remembered seeing programming that seemed tailor made for me - an Asian American woman over thirty.  "Fresh Off the Boat," has been on the air for five seasons, the longest any Asian-American-centric show has ever run on American television. The sixth, with or without Constance Wu, will be due next year, along with more "Kim's Convenience" and "Killing Eve."

On the other hand, the volatility of the media ecosystem is definitely taking a toll.  AT&T's takeover of HBO threatens one of the most reliable producers of high quality, curated content of the past three decades, one that is arguably responsible of the rise of Peak TV in the first place.  There have been warning signs that the broadcast networks are steadily approaching oblivion as their audiences erode, and basic cable is also feeling the pinch. Transitioning from broadcast to streaming platforms has its advantages, but the overwhelming majority of the major ones so far are subscription services, and a big chunk of the population still relies on more traditional platforms.    

Netflix remains an interesting conundrum.  (Quick disclosure - I'm still a shareholder.)  They've successfully disrupted the television business and have shown that they're going to be around for the long haul.  However, their refusal to share their viewership numbers also makes meaningful analysis of their actual impact difficult, and their antagonism of the major studios has seemingly locked in their outsider status for the time being.  They seem to be constantly in the conversation, having had a very successful awards season and their share of buzzworthy hits. On the other hand, I'm constantly hearing about their disappointments too. How long can they hold on to their status as the default streaming service?  

Most of the latest round of speculation about the health of Netflix is directly tied to their new willingness to cancel shows.  Where every decent performer seemed bulletproof a year ago, now all the adult Marvel show are on their way out, the critically lauded "One Day at a Time" is kaput, and everyone is nervously eyeing any show that's run longer than three seasons.  Over at Amazon, several of its flagship shows like "Mozart in the Jungle" and "Transparent" have gotten the axe, and "Man in the High Castle" is on its last year. This is supposedly part of a housecleaning effort after their regime change.

On the other hand, maybe this is just a normal programing cycle coming to an end in the streaming world - it's hard to tell because we haven't really had many of them yet.  It's hard to believe it's only been six years since "House of Cards" premiered on Netflix and kicked off the streaming wars. What's "normal" is still very much in flux. However, with the new services coming in, and the earliest batch of shows almost all gone, it feels like the end of an era.  And we still have a long way to go.

Hang on tight everybody.  It's going to be a bumpy ride.   

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"Black Mirror," Year Five-ish

Only three episodes have been released for the 2019 series of "Black Mirror," which is in line with what the first two series of the show did, back when it was being broadcast on the UK's Channel 4. And frankly, I'm all for it. If fewer episodes mean higher quality, and avoiding the show being watered down and Charlie Brooker getting burned out, great. I don't think the move made this fifth series, or season, or grouping of episodes, any better than the previous ones, but it's not any worse. "Black Mirror" has always had its ups and downs since the beginning. This year, we got a great episode, a mediocre episode, and an episode I'm having trouble quantifying. The nice thing about the small episode count is that I can spend this post going into all three of them in some detail.

First, the great episode. "Striking Vipers" stars Anthony Mackie and Nicole Beharie as Danny and Theo, a couple getting bored in their marriage. Danny reconnects with an old gaming buddy, Karl (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), through a VR game and the relationship takes an unexpected turn. The episode is a fascinating, mature look at a trio of people navigating changing sexual dynamics that have been brought about by new technology. This is one of those episodes where the technology is not the enemy - it wasn't designed for the purpose that the characters find for it - but that nonetheless opens up a whole can of worms as it creates new ways for people to interact and relate to each other. The performances, especially Nicole Beharie's, go a long way toward elevating the hour above a typical genre "what if" story. I especially like the complicated, but hopeful resolution.

On to "Smithereens," which sees a hostage situation play out with added complications from social media. The episode stars Andrew Scott as Chris, a rideshare driver, who abducts Jaden (Damson Idris), an employee of the social media company, in order to get to Billy Bauer (Topher Grace), the CEO. The story takes place in the present day, more or less, with current technology, and the tone is largely satirical. The episode takes a lot of current trends, such as distracted driving, ridesharing, online account memorialization, and privacy concerns, and tries to make a compelling narrative out of them. The result isn't bad, but it's not very strong either. "Smithereens" feels very derivative of other media about these topics, and there's not much bite to the humor or the commentary. Still, I like the performances of Andrew Scott and Topher Grace, and there are a couple of good zingers.

Finally, there's "Rachel, Jack, and Ashley Too," which has drawn some ire for being a very atypical "Black Mirror" episode. Sure, it has scary new technology like mind-reading tech and toys that contain copies of a real person's personality, but it's all in the context of what is essentially a Disney Channel adventure, the kind that its star Miley Cyrus rose to fame with. The plotting initially suggests darker designs: shy teenager Rachel (Angourie Rice) is a fan of wholesome pop star Ashley O (Miley Cyrus). She's gifted a high tech new doll, the Ashley Too, who becomes her only friend, to the disapproval of Rachel's older sister Jack (Madison Davenport). However, the way things play out is very kid-friendly. It isn't just that the episode has a happy ending, but that its entire tone and attitude feel watered down. No matter the pointed jabs at the entertainment industry, Miley Cyrus getting meta, or Ashley's penchant for cursing like a sailor, it's hard to get away from the episode being a lot lighter and more positive in its handling of some of "Black Mirror's" favorite dystopian concepts than other installments have been.

In short, "Rachel, Jack, and Ashley Too" plays like baby's first "Black Mirror" episode. It's watchable as an edgy tween caper, and even as a "Hannah Montana" spoof. On the other hand, it sticks out like a sore thumb when you put it next to the rest of the series. Charlie Brooker has talked about wanting "Black Mirror" to not only be disturbing and fearmongering stories about technology. I have to wonder if this might be course correcting a little too hard, however. "Cute" is not a descriptor I normally associate with "Black Mirror," and a little goes a long way.

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