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From day one, Charlie Brooker and the team behind Black Mirror have pushed the boundaries of what science fiction storytelling can be in the modern era.  Once Netflix jumped aboard, the budget and possibilities expanded vastly, and fans were left wondering what the future of the series held in store.  Rumors of a groundbreaking new season started to hit the circuit in 2018, but all of that subsided late in the year as word of a movie begin to spread.  Many of us were excited, but I am not sure if anyone was ready for the interactive experience that is Black Mirror : Bandersnatch.  

Stefan Butler (Fionn Whitehead) is a young programmer with visions of turning Bandersnatch, a book written by author (and killer) Jerome F. Davies (Jeff Minter), into a videogame where the user makes choices to move through the story.  Stefan presents the game to Tuckersoft boss Mohan Thakur (Asim Chaudhry) and famed programmer Colin Ritman (Will Poulter), who offer him the chance to finish the game for Tuckersoft and have it released to the masses.  Stefan accepts the challenge, much to the behest of his father Peter Butler (Craig Parkinson).  As Stefan spirals deeper and deeper into the stress that surrounds him and the game, his mental state begins to fracture.  He visits Dr. Haynes (Alice Lowe), which provides awakenings to his feelings about his father in light of his mother’s death, as well as medication that he takes to keep his mental state together.  As the deadline fast approaches, however, the pressure begins to get to Stefan, causing a series of choices and events that bring a world of grisly and ghastly possibilities.

The way that the illusion of control is celebrated within a film based on the entire principle of giving viewers choices is fascinating.  On top of that, we are dealing with a meta-narrative within a meta-narrative, as we are watching a video game programmer who feels as if they are being controlled create a game about choices based on a book where readers make choices to navigate the narrative.  The subtext of medication and psychoactive drugs as control devices creates a sense of paranoia and an unsure nature that makes both Stefan and the viewer equally lost.  On the surface, it appears as if the majority of the choices lead to one inevitable conclusion with a few revisions, but I imagine that if you stray far enough off track without derailing the story, other strange endings will emerge.

That illusion bleeds into the realm of choice equally, with most every aspect of the narrative tainted by false choice systems or choice-based regrets.  The story of Stefan’s mother’s death not only cripples him emotionally and poisons his relationship with his father, the reality of the event being put into question puts him over the edge.  The dreams and flashbacks initially seem like indicators, as Colin mentions briefly, but upon further reflection, they come off more like skewed justifications for horrible actions.  The entire narrative seems to loop back around to a handful of key points, and these serve as the splinter points for things to shift direction.

The stark colors not only work as emotional cues, but they blend together as if they are slightly programmed, blending the line between reality and programming quite well.  The choice system that Netflix gives works well, with the pauses built into the performances for viewers to make selections masked as seamlessly as possible.  There are easter eggs abound throughout the film that further blur the chronology of events with the Black Mirror canon.  For such a lofty concept, the writing is sharp and connects together throughout, sometimes even breaking narrative structure altogether to force viewers to choose between difficult extremes.  The option to dig around amongst endings upon conclusion of your viewing session is cool, but the system lends itself to repeat viewings with gaps of time spacing them out.

The world is peppered with a number of individuals, but a handful of performances in particular stand out for this particular project.  Fionn Whitehead’s measured reluctance, troubled spirit and eventual fractured emotional state are all portrayed confidently and assuredly, many of those beats shifted within the space of a scene.  Will Poulter and his offbeat nature work well in contrast, as you’re never quite sure how aware he is of the overall meta-situation.  Asim Chaudhry takes what could have easily been a trope of a character and injects it with just enough personality to make him equal parts endearing and sleazy.  Craig Parkinson hits all the proper beats of a concerned father who has no idea how their kid truly resents them, and even plays into the twist-tone that is briefly presented in one of Stefan’s dreams.  Alice Lowe invokes the spirit of a therapist quite well, to the point where you slightly forget she is an actor.  Appearances by Tallulah Haddon, Alan Asaad, Jonathan Aris and Jeff Minter also stand out.