Latest news with #Rivermind
Irish Daily Star
25-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Daily Star
Black Mirror fans say new episode starring Irish actor is the ‘best of all time'
The new season of Black Mirror dropped earlier this month, and one episode starring Irish actor Chris O'Dowd seems to stand out among the other five. The episode, Common People, stars O'Dowd as Mike and actress Rashida Jones as Amanda. The couple struggles as Amanda suffers a health crisis that threatens her life. To save her, Mike agrees to have a surgical procedure courtesy of the new tech company Rivermind. However, like most episodes of the science fiction series , things are not as straightforward as they seem. While the procedure restores Amanda's consciousness, the couple is now indebted to the company and pays monthly subscription fees to keep her alive. Read More Related Articles Donald Trump branded 'disgusting' as he honors Pope Francis in 'baffling' way Read More Related Articles Russia invasion fears prompt evacuation plan in European city home to 540,000 The fees slowly begin to spiral out of control as the service becomes more capitalistic. Ultimately, Amanda's life becomes unlivable, and Mike, unable to keep up the payments, resorts to drastic measures. According to viewers, a number of things stood out from the episode, one of which was Chris O'Dowd's incredible performance. The actor, who hails from Boyle Co Roscommon, has stunned in films like Bridesmaids and This Is Forty, but he showed a different side to his acting chops in the new episode. Funnyman Chris O'Dowd wowed in the role (Image: 2024 Penske Media) Viewers also commented on the stark reality and limitations of life-saving technology. Black Mirror tends to highlight the dangers associated with reliance on technology, which is increasing as we move further into the digital age. On Reddit, users pointed out that Common People evoked the same feeling as earlier Black Mirror episodes, which gave the show its status as one of Netflix's best. Bahnmor wrote: 'This latest series has done a good job in revisiting the good old existential terror that Black Mirror is known for. This episode they came out strong.' Manic_panda added: 'I wept at this episode. Such a beautiful and painfully realistic metaphor for the lengths people go to to fight terminal illness and the sheer greed attached to the insurance companies who leech off them.' ScratchChrome heaped praise onto O'Dowd, writing: 'I was blown away by his acting chops, I've seen him in loads of stuff but this was such a hard hitter. They've really excelled themselves with the casting this season.' Satchmo101 agreed, adding, 'One of the best ever eps.' For the latest local news and features on Irish America, visit our homepage here .
Express Tribune
22-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Express Tribune
The uncanny in 'Black Mirror S7'
To say that the latest installment of Black Mirror broke the internet would be a no-brainer. When the show's first season dropped in 2011, it forever changed the landscape of sci-fi story-telling on the small screen, if not also the silver screen, infinitely extending the boundaries of what cinema can do and what its lovers can expect. So when Black Mirror Season 7 dropped on Netflix on April 10, it didn't just break the internet -— it dissected it, uploaded its consciousness, and sold it back to us as a subscription bundle. And in an exquisitely genre-defying turn, it's hard to say if this new season is sci-fi or horror because either seems too reductionist for what the six episodes actually offer: an uncanny feeling that stays from beginning to end, never waxing or waning, never teetering away. Creator Charlie Brooker promised a return to the show's darker, more unsettling roots, and he delivered. Too real for us commoners Like every other set of episodes, this latest season stays with its audience because it never wanders too far away from what us commoners (read: everyone who's not Charlie Brooker, Charlie Kaufman or David Lynch) can perceive to be true at some point in our existence. Black Mirror coddles our humble capacity for suspension of disbelief by keeping real-world issues at the heart of each story: debates surrounding rogue technology, environmental degradation, fertility, high school bullying, the invention and imagination of God's messenger, ideas of death and infinity, coupled with everyday annoyances that ail human existence: long-distance love, relentless ads, shitty breakups and losing very (I emphasise, very) important USBs. A wide variety of devices function in tandem during the course of the six episodes, weaving together the thick, suffocating fabric of strangeness that envelops Black Mirror's viewership. Of them, some are as overt as the references to the dark web in Common People, through which the ever-so-tired blue-collared Mike tries to earn some extra cash to afford his beloved wife's Rivermind subscription, which keeps her alive. If that means setting a mousetrap loose on his tongue or drinking his own urine in a dingy room for a sick digital audience, so be it. The horror one feels watching someone pull out a perfectly good tooth by sheer force on-screen is often inexplicably more complex than watching a full-blown murder, perhaps because the former seems so much closer to us, and it is this phenomenon that this section of the episode monetises on. Add to the mix entirely believable characters we have all personally witnessed: overworked and desperate labourers trying to make ends meet, high school computer geeks who befriend no one (or the other way around), furious 'nice guys' and the likes, and you've got yourself the crawling feeling that you'll run into one of these characters soon. Here and there, very obviously uncomfortable things happen nonchalantly for just a blip in the Black Mirror universe. Blue spit and blue blood in USS Callister tops this chart by a mile, though of course, one cannot forget frowning at the randomly appearing thick Scottish accent on a planet one has just laid eyes on. And while appearing briefly and matter-of-factly, Brooker does not waste a single moment of plot development to fluff, so in the case of USS Callister, the normalcy of blue bodily fluids causes discovery of rogue elements in the game who bleed red (big, big surprise.) Are we overreacting? And then there are things that Brooker places onto the screen so subliminally that the feeling of unease catches you before you can put reason to it. There are the faces that change so quickly in real time, it's hard to tell if it's incredible acting or a body double. A t the end of USS Calister, when Robert finally descends into his penultimate insanity after 500 years of hard labour as God of Infinity, his face goes from actually-a-nice-guy to a not-so-nice-guy so fast, one has to blink twice to know that the throbbing temple veins really do belong to the same character who was in his place five seconds ago. There's also something deeply off about the way people stare in Black Mirror Season 7, a gaze that makes a small incision in some tender part of your skin, crawls under it and stitches the wound back up. It's the too-long, too-unblinking, too-knowing gaze that drills into your spine. In Common People, Amanda stares blankly as ads hijack her eyeballs, irrespective of how steamy the situation; in Bête Noire, Verity's coy side-eyes are almost serpentine in their slyness. The girl's eyes go from naive and teary to hard as stone like it's not a problem. But then, you'd learn that much if you'd lived a million lives, one of them as Empress of the Universe. Eulogy ramps it up with a daughter's glassy-eyed glare as her mother's affair is dissected across the table and it's the switch-up that's hard to swallow: sympathetic eyes, investigative eyes, infuriated eyes in no time. And then there's Robert in USS Callister - smiling, staring, saying nothing - making you feel like you're the program bug. Forget the Stanley Stare; every gaze in Black Mirror is a unique glitch in the human code. Brooker does not spin his magic in a vacuum. He is accompanied by equally competent and creative directors who create worlds element by element, so nothing seems out of place. In Eulogy, the restaurant's soft lighting turns harsh as emotional tension spikes and colour becomes confrontation. Throughout the season, palettes shift with mood: sterile whites, shadowy blues, garish neons. Pair that with an unnerving sound design - hums, static, silence stretched too thin, Thronglet sounds that will never leave our minds (rest in peace) - and the atmosphere does the storytelling before characters even speak. Mind-numbing madness Black Mirror has done this before with Bandersnatch (and is looking forward to doing it again with Banderstruck) but this time, Brooker has taken it too far (or has he?) Various viewers and outlets have caught on to the many easter eggs scattered throughout the six episodes, the most noticeable one being references to Juniper. On top of that, viewers are reporting that they are seeing different versions of Bête Noire on their screens, and for an episode that utilises the Mandela Effect to an unhealthy level, that is as spooky as it gets. Whether this is gossip, mischief or the truth, demanding this kind of interactive viewership turns the viewer into a participant, blurring boundaries between fiction and reality. It's disorienting - like the show knows you. That unpredictability, that sense of being watched back, adds a chilling layer to the already uncanny experience. In short, watching Black Mirror Season 7 is falling into a very stylish, very glitchy existential spiral with WiFi. It's funny, freaky, and frightening in equal measure, with just enough uncanny polish to make you question whether that weird stare your co-worker gave you today was normal. Brooker has re-coded the show and the result is a season that asks, "What if tech goes too far?" and "What if you already have?" Whether you binged all six episodes in one blackout afternoon or are still piecing together the multiple versions of Bête Noire, one thing's clear: Black Mirror is watching you too.
Yahoo
17-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
When Life Requires a Subscription Fee
Black Mirror has never been subtle. Charlie Brooker's famously bleak Netflix sci-fi series has skewered the role of technology in our lives—dating apps, surveillance culture, social media—across its seven seasons; it has shown us how our overreliance on the convenience of the digital world can harm the real one. Black Mirror is also often self-referential to a fault, dotting its episodes with Easter eggs to other installments, building a large shared universe. In its seventh season, the show's meta-textual reflexes hit closer to home: This time, the target is streaming platforms, just like the one viewers use to watch the show. The series' take on the subscription-service economy is clear from the first episode. 'Common People' is a tragicomedy following Amanda (played by Rashida Jones), who was recently diagnosed with a brain tumor, and her husband, Mike (Chris O'Dowd). The couple sign over their lives to the medtech start-up Rivermind, which digitally preserves part of Amanda's consciousness following an emergency operation. Rivermind will upload Amanda's mind back into her brain, which has been permanently altered by the surgery, so that she can live a normal existence—for a membership fee. The service comes with some minor inconveniences, like a limited geographic coverage area and a lengthy, required shutdown phase. Eventually, Rivermind encourages its users to upgrade to higher pricing tiers with more perks, making life unbearable for those who don't. Unable to afford the more expensive options, Amanda begins to deteriorate: She sleeps even more, for up to 12 hours a day; she abruptly recites advertisements for random products, including Christian counseling websites and erectile-dysfunction 'cures,' with no memory of doing so. Amanda and Mike begrudgingly sign up for Rivermind Plus, even as the monthly fee continues to climb, which in turn pushes Mike toward unpleasant money-making schemes in order to keep their membership. [Read: When a show about the future is stuck in place] Rivermind is as damning a model of 'enshittification'—the colloquial term for the gradual degradation of services over time to maximize profits—as Black Mirror has ever envisioned. What happens to Amanda is also an all-too-familiar experience for anyone who has ever signed up for, say, a streaming service, only for everything they liked about it to suddenly be walled off behind progressively higher prices. In Amanda's case, her life hangs in the balance, and she and Mike ultimately must decide whether living like this is worth all the trouble. The season finale, 'USS Callister: Into Infinity,' has a similarly vicious angle on the monetization of stuff. A sequel to the charmingly retro Season 4 premiere, 'USS Callister,' the story picks up some time after the protagonists—digitized clones of actual people who are stuck inside an immersive online multiplayer video game called Infinity—have become content pirates: The game's parent company has monetized everything, requiring players to purchase 'credits' to access in-game features. As avatars without any real-world funds, however, the clones can't purchase any of the necessary credits—meaning they can't afford to even fly their spaceship without stealing other players' in-game money. A slight annoyance to gamers in the real world is a genuine 'cost of existing crisis,' as one of the ship's crew members, Elena (Milanka Brooks), explains, for those trapped within the game. If the team doesn't have enough credits to fly, they can't escape from danger. And while regular avatars can just respawn after getting shot with a laser cannon, if any of the Callister's crew dies in the game, they're dead for good. That's stressful enough, but the episode's sharpest critique is in its portrayal of the parent company's CEO, James Walton (Jimmi Simpson), who has eyes only for profit and is incensed at the thought of freeloaders playing without paying; when he finally enters the game and interacts with the crew of the Callister—human beings whose lives are at stake—his first instinct is to open fire on them. In an extreme fashion, the murderous, bootlegger-hunting executive caricatures how streamers have introduced progressively tighter restrictions on online piracy and password-sharing while raising prices on as many features as possible. [Read: Netflix is a business, not a movement] This isn't the first time Black Mirror's near-future alternate universe has targeted the streaming-media ecosystem. The Season 6 premiere, 'Joan Is Awful,' featured a Netflix-esque service called Streamberry; the company's predatory terms and conditions entitle it to auto-generate television episodes based on the lives of Streamberry's subscribers. The episodes are decidedly unflattering and yet undeniably popular; the outrage stirred up by them, as any internet user understands, begets attention that's ultimately useful to the company. But they also cause real-world, irrevocable damage, as everything that Streamberry's subscribers do—and everyone they interact with—becomes fodder for the streamer's new hit program. The satire is among Black Mirror's bluntest, a darkly funny exploration of the ramifications of bespoke storytelling. The new season takes the idea a step further. In an ever more app-based world, a future in which the decision to subscribe becomes a life-and-death matter is not all that difficult to imagine. We pay for the privilege of using the gyms of our choice, driving our cars, listening to music, ordering household items, and accessing medical care. Subscription services dole out to their users the movies and shows they watch and the video games they play—all of which can disappear on the whims of their rights-holders. As for the denizens of Black Mirror, evil has never been more banal; it's woven into their miserable lives via money-sucking tiers of convenience. Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
17-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Atlantic
When Life Requires a Subscription Fee
Black Mirror has never been subtle. Charlie Brooker's famously bleak Netflix sci-fi series has skewered the role of technology in our lives— dating apps, surveillance culture, social media —across its seven seasons; it has shown us how our overreliance on the convenience of the digital world can harm the real one. Black Mirror is also often self-referential to a fault, dotting its episodes with Easter eggs to other installments, building a large shared universe. In its seventh season, the show's meta-textual reflexes hit closer to home: This time, the target is streaming platforms, just like the one viewers use to watch the show. The series' take on the subscription-service economy is clear from the first episode. 'Common People' is a tragicomedy following Amanda (played by Rashida Jones), who was recently diagnosed with a brain tumor, and her husband, Mike (Chris O'Dowd). The couple sign over their lives to the medtech start-up Rivermind, which digitally preserves part of Amanda's consciousness following an emergency operation. Rivermind will upload Amanda's mind back into her brain, which has been permanently altered by the surgery, so that she can live a normal existence—for a membership fee. The service comes with some minor inconveniences, like a limited geographic coverage area and a lengthy, required shutdown phase. Eventually, Rivermind encourages its users to upgrade to higher pricing tiers with more perks, making life unbearable for those who don't. Unable to afford the more expensive options, Amanda begins to deteriorate: She sleeps even more, for up to 12 hours a day; she abruptly recites advertisements for random products, including Christian counseling websites and erectile-dysfunction 'cures,' with no memory of doing so. Amanda and Mike begrudgingly sign up for Rivermind Plus, even as the monthly fee continues to climb, which in turn pushes Mike toward unpleasant money-making schemes in order to keep their membership. Rivermind is as damning a model of 'enshittification' —the colloquial term for the gradual degradation of services over time to maximize profits—as Black Mirror has ever envisioned. What happens to Amanda is also an all-too-familiar experience for anyone who has ever signed up for, say, a streaming service, only for everything they liked about it to suddenly be walled off behind progressively higher prices. In Amanda's case, her life hangs in the balance, and she and Mike ultimately must decide whether living like this is worth all the trouble. The season finale, 'USS Callister: Into Infinity,' has a similarly vicious angle on the monetization of stuff. A sequel to the charmingly retro Season 4 premiere, 'USS Callister,' the story picks up some time after the protagonists—digitized clones of actual people who are stuck inside an immersive online multiplayer video game called Infinity —have become content pirates: The game's parent company has monetized everything, requiring players to purchase 'credits' to access in-game features. As avatars without any real-world funds, however, the clones can't purchase any of the necessary credits—meaning they can't afford to even fly their spaceship without stealing other players' in-game money. A slight annoyance to gamers in the real world is a genuine 'cost of existing crisis,' as one of the ship's crew members, Elena (Milanka Brooks), explains, for those trapped within the game. If the team doesn't have enough credits to fly, they can't escape from danger. And while regular avatars can just respawn after getting shot with a laser cannon, if any of the Callister 's crew dies in the game, they're dead for good. That's stressful enough, but the episode's sharpest critique is in its portrayal of the parent company's CEO, James Walton (Jimmi Simpson), who has eyes only for profit and is incensed at the thought of freeloaders playing without paying; when he finally enters the game and interacts with the crew of the Callister —human beings whose lives are at stake—his first instinct is to open fire on them. In an extreme fashion, the murderous, bootlegger-hunting executive caricatures how streamers have introduced progressively tighter restrictions on online piracy and password-sharing while raising prices on as many features as possible. This isn't the first time Black Mirror 's near-future alternate universe has targeted the streaming-media ecosystem. The Season 6 premiere, 'Joan Is Awful,' featured a Netflix-esque service called Streamberry; the company's predatory terms and conditions entitle it to auto-generate television episodes based on the lives of Streamberry's subscribers. The episodes are decidedly unflattering and yet undeniably popular; the outrage stirred up by them, as any internet user understands, begets attention that's ultimately useful to the company. But they also cause real-world, irrevocable damage, as everything that Streamberry's subscribers do—and everyone they interact with—becomes fodder for the streamer's new hit program. The satire is among Black Mirror 's bluntest, a darkly funny exploration of the ramifications of bespoke storytelling. The new season takes the idea a step further. In an ever more app-based world, a future in which the decision to subscribe becomes a life-and-death matter is not all that difficult to imagine. We pay for the privilege of using the gyms of our choice, driving our cars, listening to music, ordering household items, and accessing medical care. Subscription services dole out to their users the movies and shows they watch and the video games they play—all of which can disappear on the whims of their rights-holders. As for the denizens of Black Mirror, evil has never been more banal; it's woven into their miserable lives via money-sucking tiers of convenience.
NBC News
16-04-2025
- Entertainment
- NBC News
Why ‘Black Mirror' fans are saying the first episode of season 7 is ‘devastatingly sad'
'Black Mirror' kicked off its seventh season with a devastating first episode — and fans are absolutely loving every depressing second of it. 'Common People,' the first episode of Season 7, follows Amanda (Rashida Jones) and Mike (Chris O'Dowd) as they navigate an experimental medical treatment called Rivermind that keeps Amanda alive after the discovery of a brain tumor. Rivermind operates on a subscription model with increasing costs and tiers each year. Since they can't afford to keep up, Amanda's quality of life deteriorates. She can hardly sleep and the app puts ads into Amanda's mouth without her knowledge. Written by 'Black Mirror' creator Charlie Brooker, the episode is a commentary on capitalism, taking a hard look at the continuously rising prices that subscription models have. It also skewers the healthcare system and how it seems to prioritize individuals with money. 'In Common People, Rashida Jones plays an ordinary woman drowning in medical debt. The episode coldly and accurately shows what happens when staying alive becomes financially unsustainable,' one 'Black Mirror' viewer on X aptly said of the episode. The ending to 'Common People' is chilling but inevitable. Facing a bleak future, Amanda asks Chris to kill her, which he does before killing himself. Despite the ending, fans are appreciating its message — and saying it's a sign that the show is back to its prime. Or, as one said, 'old 'Black Mirror' levels of depressing.' 'Oh, they started with a banger! this will stay with me,' one X user said. Another X user tweeted, 'Common People is one of those #BlackMirror episodes that you stay with you long after watching it. Dark, depressing, and heartbreaking.' On TikTok breaking down the episode said that 'Black Mirror Season 7 Episode 1 proves why the show needs to keep going.' It's provoking strong reactions: '#BlackMirror's Common People episode was probably one of the most heartbreaking episodes I've ever seen. The overall theme of how capitalism puts a strangle hold on common people and prices them out of experiencing life or experiencing life without limitations.' The episode is inspiring thorough takes (and takedowns) of its themes, from healthcare to subscription models. One X user said the episode felt real: 'Imagine paying $300+ just to exist, and still dying because it's unaffordable. It's (sic) just shows the commodification of life felt less like fiction.' It's a 'direct criticism of the ethics of modern healthcare system, which is now centered on commodification of people's health,' one user on X said of the episode. Another user on X said the episode 'really entails how capitalism is affecting us all, survival for the fittest, a man eat man society. It also shows how poverty really humiliates you and how you can easily become a victim of circumstances. Also makes you appreciate being healthy more.' One TikToker said the the episode 'was so devastatingly sad' and 'perfect describes how the health system is only for the rich.' Some fans pointed out that the episode seemingly satirizes Netflix, the streaming giant that has aired 'Black Mirror' since Season 3. Netflix regularly ups its subscription price. 'Charlie Brooker writing the Common People episode of Black Mirror knowing very well it satirises (sic) Netflix's own bulls--- tiered subscription model,' one fan penned on X with a GIF of Mr. Burns on the 'Simpsons' laughing wickedly. Another fan wrote, 'netflix execs watching common people' with the accompanying ' Euphoria' clip of Maddie asking if this play is about us. A reddit post calls it a ' brutal Netflix parody,' from 'beginning as an affordable streaming service to becoming this algorithm-obsessed, ad-filled corporate machine.' 'The episode intentionally covers a really long passage of time. I think that's on purpose," she said. "This is not a six month frivolous decision. Oh, this is uncomfortable. I don't want to live like this. It's years and years of strain financially, physically and emotionally on the two of them."
