Episode three, “Hotel Reverie”, directed by Haolu Wang and written by Charlie Brooker, ventures into more sentimental territory than is typical for Black Mirror, exploring love, loss, and synthetic immortality through the lens of high-concept filmmaking. Hollywood star Brandy Friday becomes immersed in a digital reimagining of a vintage romance, paired opposite an AI recreation of the late actress Dorothy Chambers. As the ReDream technology stalls, what begins as an artificial simulation evolves into something poignantly real, especially as Brandy and the sentient Dorothy grow closer in their frozen digital world.
The moment time restarts, Dorothy is reset, and Brandy is forced to leave behind the only genuine connection she’s known in the simulation. The melancholy is thick, but the emotional stakes feel slightly undercooked. There’s ambition in the idea, a critique of how tech blurs the boundaries of performance, identity, and emotional authenticity, but the episode stops short of doing something great with the concept. While the final scene, with Brandy reconnecting via a digital telephone to an AI version of Dorothy, provides a bittersweet moment, it also downplays the tragedy in favor of a soft landing.
“Hotel Reverie” is one of the season’s more conceptually romantic episodes, but also one of its safest. Though it flirts with deeper themes it never dives beneath the surface of its own premise.
Rating: 6/10
Episode four, “Plaything”, marks a tonal pivot, returning the series to its signature space of psychological unease and techno-paranoia. Directed by David Slade and written by Charlie Brooker, the episode centers on Cameron Walker, a washed-up video game reviewer with a murky past and a disturbing present. Interrogated by police after a petty arrest leads to the discovery of a dead body, Cameron recounts a bizarre journey through obsession, psychedelics, and digital transcendence.
The episode gradually unfolds into a chaotic blend of retro-gaming nostalgia and bio-cybernetic horror. Focused on Thronglets, a fictional 1990s life simulation game whose characters become reality to Cameron. After years of devotion and escalating madness, including surgically porting the game into his own body, Cameron unleashes a signal that hacks into national broadcast systems, aiming to “reprogram” humanity for peace.
While far-fetched, “Plaything” thrives on its commitment to a singularly unhinged premise. Cameron’s descent into madness is compelling to watch, if occasionally a bit half-baked. I found the connections to the movie “Bandersnatch” enjoyable, though. Despite its surreal turns, “Plaything” taps into real anxieties about nostalgia, isolation, and the seductive promise of digital escape. The game-as-life metaphor may be extreme, but it lands uncomfortably close to reality in an era where digital identities are often more developed than physical ones.
Rating: 6.5/10