Black Mirror’s Bandersnatch: A reflection on our lives?

by Mirza Mokhtar

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Interactive narratives aren’t exactly groundbreaking. 20 years ago, John Hurt made an interactive erotic thriller called Tender Loving Care, and more recently Netflix experimented with an interactive survival series with Bear Grylls, but there’s something right about Black Mirror being the show that turns this form of narratives into the mainstream.

Nobody can quite agree on this show. Some may see this show as social criticism, and others might only see plain viciousness for the sake of it. And since the sci-fi anthology format gives access to a range of tones and ideas, there are so many episodes for every kind of viewers. The audience might enjoy a nice heartwarming episode such as San Junipero. The contrast between this episode and the rest of Black Mirror episodes is striking as you will experience the love story between two women in the sparkling paradise of San Junipero. But if you’re a fan of twisted moral tales, you will prefer something like The National Anthem. This episode revolves around the abduction of Princess Susannah who will get murdered unless the Prime Minister agrees to have sex with a pig.

Bandersnatch has the solution to solve this problem of a diverse audience. The viewers are given the choice to choose the direction of the episode at intermittent waypoints; you can ideally create your own Black Mirror episode. One disastrous option may lead you to the filthiest Black Mirror ever but if you suddenly decide to make a wholesome choice, you will magically end up with a hopeful ending.

Bandersnatch is a pure form of sophistication. From the point of view of the user, it is seamless. When the options present themselves, there’s no delay or buffering to suffer through. Netflix will make a choice for you if you’re in a crisis. Similarly, it is like watching a film. You will experience a remarkable journey as a viewer.

Bandersnatch asking the real question

Even more remarkable, though, is the desire to make a compelling story on display. This episode was based on the cancelled real-life game also called Bandersnatch, it’s basically the story of one man’s slow development. But in the Black Mirror universe, Bandersnatch is the name of an interactive book that is so complex till it drove the writer, Jerome F. Davies to murder his wife. When an ambitious 21-year-old named Stefan tries to adapt this book into a video game, he eventually loses his sanity.

But the genius of Bandersnatch is that it’s ultimately a critical analysis of interactivity. In this film, Stefan not only starts to doubt his sense of free will when he realizes that someone (you) is deciding his life decisions, but he eventually rubs up against the scarcity of choices that he’s presented with. In only 90 minutes of storytelling, Brooker has shoved this form of storytelling to the corner of mainstream, then analyzed its analogy and broke down the tropes one by one. In this sense, Bandersnatch is truly revolutionary.

It also breaks the fourth wall. No spoilers, but at one point you will be given the choice to choose a very well-known image, which sends the whole film down a wormhole of true self-referential madness. That bit is a dead-end, so it has no real significance in the story, but after years of making gloomy and twisted storylines, it’s breathtaking to see Brooker explore his funny side.

There are apparently five endings to Bandersnatch, to which I’ve seen all the endings. There’s an anticlimactic ending. One is a hilarious ending. Another one is grimy and filthy. You can also fast forward and speed through the episode in less than 40 minutes or play around and stay in front of your screen for two hours. By the time I’d finished watching, I felt a profound feeling of satisfaction, as if Black Mirror had led me towards the ending it felt was the best. Which makes sense because, after all, free will is an illusion.

So that’s what happens in this interactive film. Or at least in the version of Bandersnatch that I’ve watched. I am sure that yours might be completely different. Which makes this whole review pointless, really. Charlie Brooker has ruined television commentary, too.