BLACK MIRROR, 7.5 – ‘Eulogy’

Nearly two years after Black Mirror’s disappointing sixth season, I was curious to see how creator Charlie Brooker would develop a series that seemed to show signs of stagnation. “Eulogy”, the 32nd instalment of what was the most exciting programme on television in the 2010s, suggests that the best days of this once startling show may be behind it.

Philip (Paul Giamatti) is an old and curmudgeonly man who lives on the fringes of society. When he receives a phone call informing him that a former lover has passed away, it stirs up buried memories and repressed emotions. However, when he is given technology that allows him to explore photographs physically as three-dimensional maps, he uncovers things from his past that he could never have imagined were there…

This episode of Black Mirror is by no means bad, and it isn’t necessarily lacking in any huge area. Instead, Charlie Brooker and Ella Road’s screenplay is frankly too familiar to be exciting or surprising in any meaningful way. While Christopher Barrett and Luke Taylor’s direction is adequate, and even though Paul Giamatti gives a mostly convincing leading performance, there are simply too many predictable plot points in “Eulogy” for it to feel fresh.

This includes the central theme. The malleability of memory is a phenomenon that has been explored across science fiction for decades, from Solaris (1972) to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004). Brooker himself has explored rubber reality and amorphous mental states in numerous Black Mirror episodes, meaning that “Eulogy” felt somewhat routine from the very outset. Still, this doesn’t necessarily mean that the story was doomed to be derivative, and I was curious to see if there would be any sharp turns or unpredictable departures from routine throughout the course of the narrative.

In this respect, one commendable aspect of this new feature is the art direction. If the show has stagnated in terms of quality and originality since its inception, it has at least benefited from a larger budget, the effects of which can be seen in the production design. As Philip enters old photographs, quite literally exploring his past, there is a small sense of novelty to his pursuit of truth. The idea of having a device that allows you to walk through photographs as three-dimensional wax sculptures is fascinating, even if it has already been done in the likes of Mary Poppins (1964) and Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian (2009).

However, Black Mirror didn’t become such a groundbreaking success solely due to its depiction of new and frighteningly powerful technologies. Rather, it was Brooker’s capacity to create stories that imagined how inventions may potentially be used to augment or distort our natural senses and emotional landscape. As much as Black Mirror is a show about technology, media, and the structure of our society, it’s truly a series that examines how these things reveal inextricable aspects of our humanity: grief, regret, anger, jealousy, paranoia, distrust, and despair.

Black Mirror’s sci-fi veneer is really just a lens to explore the human condition, much like all great sci-fi does. And this is true of “Eulogy,” in that the mesmerising technology is only really supposed to hold our attention for a short time. Once we’ve become familiarised with this new device, we’re supposed to be entertained by the mystery at the centre of this tale: what exactly happened between Philip and Carol?

The issue here is that it soon becomes apparent the episode is more style than substance. Our directors inject catchy tunes from the era, such as “Fool’s Gold” by The Stone Roses, perhaps in the hope that it will create a texture too vivid and captivating to resist, or that it might at least distract from the story’s otherwise bland subject matter. Nevertheless, little can be done to cover up the fact that our script simply isn’t very interesting: it’s just a story about a man who’s still brooding over a painful breakup, populated by characters who are neither compelling nor intriguing.

Yes, it’s an analysis of our distorted recollections and botched chronologies, our epistemological shortcomings and the fictions we tell ourselves often enough to become fact. Additionally, it’s about the ways in which we process grief, which includes destroying painful memories as a means of self-preservation. Yet as philosophically dense as these themes may be, without any meaningful conflict, a story will still fall flat.

And ultimately, that’s what happens here, with the dearth of substantial conflict ensuring that we are bored by a show that once left us in total awe. It also doesn’t help that most of the episode functions as a monologue, with the old axiom of ‘showing not telling’ being repeatedly ignored. This leads to a somewhat tedious viewing as we are led down the rabbit hole of one man’s memory, in what amounts to a 40-minute conversation.

Brooker has made an entire career out of placing rich human drama into ever so slightly unfamiliar settings to create an uncanny, discomforting viewing. But here, there is nothing all that shocking. The episode feels rather prosaic and perfunctory. Still, perhaps the most irritating aspect about this episode is the exceptionally heavy-handed moralising which we’re forced to endure as The Guide (Patsy Ferran) incessantly lectures Philip for his solipsism, or challenges his assessment of Carol’s character as being too embittered and male-centric.

Early on, it’s apparent that Philip is unlikeable: he’s narcissistic, whiny, and generally misanthropic. However, our writers don’t seem to trust us to reach this conclusion ourselves, and so employ The Guide as a moral custodian to chastise him more overtly. She’s also used to cast seeds of doubt regarding the veracity of Philip’s account, and so we are consistently given reason to dismiss him as being unreliable as a narrator. Everything is spelled out very clearly so that we don’t miss it.

It’s a rarity in Black Mirror for our protagonists to be one-dimensionally good (or bad), so it seems strange that Brooker and Road felt the need to make Phillip’s failures so obvious. More than anything, it only serves to diminish the impact of certain revelations; once we’re told so painstakingly that Philip’s description of his great love is a little less than honest, we subsequently don’t feel surprised when his version of events strays from objective reality.

Moreover, “Eulogy” possesses quite a lot in common with some of the show’s more successful stories, such as “White Christmas” and “The Entire History of You,” both of which excavate themes such as regret, truth, memory, and the ethical dilemmas that abound in romance with far greater aplomb and subtlety.

It’s undeniable that moments of emotion are still achieved despite these narrative shortcomings. Even though Paul Giamatti’s performance is occasionally overdone (perhaps as a result of the subpar writing), he is still one of the greatest actors of his generation, and he demonstrates such authenticity in front of the camera that one can’t help but occasionally be transfixed. This, despite the fact that we know where the story is going, as well as what the inevitable twists will unveil.

And so, while “Eulogy” isn’t bad per se, it’s neither dramatically impressive nor thought-provoking. From a show that once crafted stunning meditations on our power systems, or explored the personal responsibilities inherent in the advancement of technology, one can’t escape the feeling that there’s something fundamental lacking from this latest episode, much like there was for several episodes of series five and six. It’s for this reason that “Eulogy” can’t help but be disappointing.

UK | 2025 | 46 MINUTES | 16:9 HD | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

writers: Charlie Brooker & Ella Road.
directors: Chris Barrett & Luke Taylor.
starring: Paul Giamatti, Patsy Ferran, Declan Mason & Hazel Monaghan.