Black Mirror Moments
Inspiration Within the Entropy
A revolution based on the people exercising their creativity in the midst of devastation is one of the great historical contributions of humankind.
—Grace Lee BoggsAfter several months of sleepwalking from September-to-Faraway-Holiday, long after my teacher swagger slips to zombie stagger, that cumulative seven-month exhaustion cycle — all that can finally subside, at least somewhat, after Spring Break.
By mid-April, in the proverbial home stretch to mid-June, admittedly, I might retreat for an hour or two with a favorite guilty pleasure.
Besides my Substack1, I require some type of catharsis from what ails me in such ailing times, even if just slumping back on the recliner with the remote.
Especially if it means catching a good episode of Black Mirror.
Launched in 2011 by Charlie Brooker, a Brit screenwriter and creatively scathing social critic, Black Mirror dares to confront our subtle dystopia of consumerism, capitalism and particularly the continuous vice-grip of ever dominant technologies.
In each sporadic Twilight Zone-like series (now totaling 33 episodes), Brooker flaunts a healthy cynicism towards both artifice and artificial intelligence.
Such plausibly grim, near-future narratives might trigger an unnerving hangover. These dark, mostly humorless tales do not necessarily lend well to binge watching.
Still, two of the most exceptional selections can stir some profound emotional tugs, most notably in the 2016 eerily romantic (and Emmy-winning) “San Junipero,”2 and now, with the wondrously sullen “Eulogy.”
Eulogy
(Black Mirror, Series 7, 2025)
Written by Charlie Brooker & Ella Road
Directed by Chris Barrett & Luke Taylor
Featuring Paul Giamatti & Patsy Ferran
Imagine being able to mentally inhabit a two-dimensional photograph which instantly transforms into a three-dimensional scene.
Would you dare enter such a premise?
An aging East Coast loner, Phillip Connarthy (Paul Giamatti), receives just such an unusual invitation from “Eulogy,” an elaborate high-tech funeral service. Phillip reluctantly accepts the strange offer, after a phone call and drone-delivery package about Carol (Patsy Ferran), his long lost girlfriend who just died in London.
With the aid of a tiny wireless disc affixed to Phillip’s temple (a frequent McGuffin in Brooker screenplays), a seemingly quite human Guide abruptly escorts him through a surreal maze of frozen sentimentality.
Within such literal photographic memories, the earnest Guide helps Phillip probe more deeply into the backstories unearthed by this haunting immersion into his stored scrapbook settings.
An added oddity centers around the photos themselves. Following their bad break-up in London two decades ago, Phillip painstakingly punctured or blacked out every photo of Carol’s face, as if to more fully erase her from his distraught consciousness.
Curiously, he never tossed out his large collection of disfigured photos, preferring to keep them in deep attic storage, perhaps for some rainy day masochism.
The Eulogy service seeks to mine his extensive recall for a more complete picture of the deceased, as a more fully realized memorial for those surviving the loss, for anyone attending the scheduled funeral, in person and virtually.
Phillip’s intense frustration involves these missing pieces, the magical face he cannot quite recall, even as he describes how much he treasured Carol’s magnetism, including her musical abilities as a concert cellist, composer and briefly, rock ‘n’ roll keyboardist.
He steps gingerly from each fossilized scenario, whether rooftop party, crowded night club, five-star gourmet magazine cover or trashed hotel room.
This missing person tragedy becomes both a haunting detective yarn and an ageless love story as the Guide reveals the source of her actual identity.
Phillip’s desperate search for some kind of newly-found closure climaxes in the inadvertent recovery of an unopened letter, written by Carol on the night she silently left “Philly” alone after his failed, alcohol-soaked marriage proposal.
The night he never saw her again.
Giamatti will surely earn several award nominations (for those who care about such exclamation points) for his sympathetic embodiment of a largely unsympathetic broken heart, one foiled by his own self-absorption and short-sightedness.
Patsy Ferran as the Guide also deserves much recognition for her warmly touching portrayal, in mutually therapeutic sequences, which could have been smothered by such an intimidating supposition.
The astonishing special effects are actually light on the CGI, relying much more on the actor’s remarkable ability to freeze their positions without the slightest movement (some of the extras were actually dancers), as the compassionate Guide and tormented Phillip glide around the still images, as if trapped in a dreamy wax museum ballet.
This rare, fully developed modern tragedy reminded me about the scarcity of remorse, self-forgiveness and art as emotional restoration.
The funeral montage, Phillip’s final line of “Let’s see her,” the slow walk down their apartment hallway, the swelling strings and a City Lights-Tramp-like ending will surely prove meaningful pathos can survive, even in a wearying 2025 . . .
Try to see this eulogy for lost souls amidst so much time lost.
Even if you don’t feel left behind.
Promo still featuring Paul Giamatti as Phillip Connarthy, in the best new Black Mirror episode, Season Seven’s “Eulogy.” This shot mistakenly includes a missing image of old girlfriend Carol. In the actual episode, her facial features are scribbled out.
While Phillip cannot yet picture her face, he can view his former self, standing enamored with beer bottle in hand. His detailed recollection of this first encounter with Carol initiates quite a vivid journey into elaborate conjecture and remorse.
Recent losses have temporarily disrupted my writing discipline, as noted in my previous Substack on the sudden passing of an old friend and colleague, Patrick O’Brien. Although I tend to write more when depressed, it’s less structured, and often less comforting, at least initially.
If “San Junipero” wasn’t almost ten years old, I would have also included a review in this short essay on “Eulogy.” If new to Black Mirror, add that astounding episode to your must-see list.
Also, I'm so very sorry to hear you have lost another good friend. Sending my love and prayers for all who love him. ❤️
Your description and summary of these episodes is so clear and interesting. They must have really resonated with you, possibly reflecting on some similar life experiences - at least in the way it made you feel. Art reflecting life is nothing unless it evokes a personal attachment or response.