Years And Years A near-future drama that follows the Lyons family of Manchester as their lives unfold against a backdrop of accelerating political, technological, and social change. Beginning in 2019 it covers roughly 15 years, tracking how each member adapts—or fails to adapt—to an increasingly unfamiliar world. Muriel, grandmother and great-grandmother becomes the moral centre of the story. As life becomes more unstable she grows stronger and more clear eyed, consistently understanding what matter most when the ground is shifting. Edith, a humanitarian worker and activist, can always be found at the heart of the current global crisis. Rosie, a single mother to two boys, is juggling the demands of working and parenting in a chaotic world—the struggle is real. Daniel, a housing officer dealing with refugees on a daily basis, is forced to bear witness to the palpable consequences of government policy. Steven, the most emotionally reserved of the four, is also the most traditional. With his job in banking, he’s privileged and successful—until he isn’t. And then there’s Vivien Rook, a populist politician whose ascent reflects growing public frustration, fear and unrest. Each episode revisits them at a later point in time, as small decisions and global events ripple outward, altering their relationships, ambitions, and sense of identity. It’s a fast-paced and energetic cautionary tale which keeps the US in its crosshairs as it serves up eerily prescient world events, and the ramifications of political, cultural and technological pressures when left unchecked. But its heart remains rooted in the intimate ties of family, love, and human connection — the warmth, humour and emotional steadiness that anchor a world that refuses to stand still. Brilliantly done and a must watch — as long as you can handle the stress of how eerily close to reality it feels.
Black Mirror This wildly popular series can be a little hit or miss. Some episodes can drag and feel a little tedious, some are masterful. You’re frequently dropped into a story with very little context, left to piece things together as you go—carried along more by a creeping sense of dread than by clarity. Sometimes that ambiguity works brilliantly; other times, not so much. But every episode is nothing if not thought-provoking and let me tell you, Black Mirror has seen the future—and it is horribly, horribly bleak. It digs into the relationship between technology and society, how it can increase insecurity and control, obliterate privacy and destroy identity. It holds up a mirror to the present and exposes, exaggerates and stretches it all. One episode imagines a world where people have implants that record everything they see and do, allowing them to replay memories at will—either privately or for an audience—every awkward moment, every regret, permanently accessible. In another a woman, Lacie, lives in a pastel drenched world where every personal interaction is rated on a five-star scale. People see each other’s scores through contact lenses, and social standing is everything.When she learns she can get a discount on her dream home by boosting her rating from 4.2 to 4.5, Lacie’s world unravels at warp speed. And then there’s the very first episode of all—the one involving a British Prime Minister, a pig and live television. Suffice it to say: things do not end well. Deeply unsettling, quietly brilliant, frequently uncomfortable, often shocking TV, that, while it doesn’t always land, will always, always, capture your attention. For some strange reason I have noticed that the first episode of each season is generally the best. Watch with caution, don’t binge if you want to maintain your sanity.
The Commons Set in a near-future Australia, global warming has impacted the planet to such an extent that rain is now acidic enough to burn eyes, curfews are enforced by surveillance drones and climate migration has reshaped society. Despite all this, Eadie Boulay (Joanne Froggat) is desperate to bring a child into the world with her husband, Lloyd. Unfortunately, she has experienced several miscarriages after IVF and is about to turn 38, an age that brings a steep rise in treatment costs. With one embryo left she turns to a less than ethical approach to achieve her goal, without her husband’s knowledge . Her brother, meanwhile, (Rupert Penry-Jones) thrives in a world of disaster capitalism, living with his wife and large brood of kids in a luxury fortified, climate-controlled enclave. While he profits and hides from all that is happening, Eadie, a neuropsychologist, volunteers at a climate refugee camp, has a husband who is desperately seeking a cure for a deadly disease spread by insect bites, and lives modestly in a house with her prickly but smart and insightful step-daughter. This is a riveting series and an utterly unsettling look at what might be waiting for us all in a few years. It probes the ethics of technology advancements, the shocking results of limited resources and the struggle to maintain compassion and human connection when lives are fraught with tension. Not gonna lie, it feels less like speculative fiction and more like a cautionary tale. Visually, it’s striking—offering futuristic glimpses of Sydney, interwoven with dreamlike sequences and a hauntingly beautiful score.
Humans This delves into the world of AI and all its moral ambiguities. It doesn’t push the boundaries as much as Black Mirror, but it also has a lot more heart and soul. At the centre of the story is the Hawkins family. Laura, a high-powered lawyer, returns home from a business trip to discover that her husband, Joe, has bought a Synth—a lifelike robotic servant—named Anita. And she’s gorgeous. Laura has always been dead set against the idea, so finding one quietly moving around her home is… not well received. Anita’s presence only amplifies Laura’s guilt about her absence. She cooks perfect breakfasts, reads to her youngest child, Sophie (who is completely enchanted with the new help) and generally fills the gaps Laura feels she’s leaving behind. Meanwhile, eldest daughter Mattie, a brilliant and tech-savvy whiz-kid begins to lose faith in her future altogether. If machines are going to render her generation’s jobs obsolete, what’s the point? And then there’s Joe who’s delighted. An overwhelmed father of three with a frequently absent partner, he welcomes the help, although his judgment can be dubious sometimes. In one particularly uncomfortable “don’t do it” moment, he activates Anita’s “adult-only” settings. Enough said. Out in society the Synths are responsible for an endless array of menial tasks, including as home health nurses responsible for keeping patients in line and on their meds. Grouchy, reclusive widower, George, clings to his outdated Synth, Odi who is breaking down. Odi, though, holds memories of his wife and George can’t bear to part with him. Meanwhile, it comes to light that there are a group of sentient synths who have developed consciousness, thinking and feeling for themselves. From this point things get spicy. These storylines intersect as a steady stream of philosophical questions. It’s intriguing to ponder the ways in which robots might integrate into our lives and how easy it would be for them to take over. As with Black Mirror, the underlying implication is that none of this is likely to end well. But Humans takes its time getting there, grounding its big ideas in intimate, human stories. And that’s what makes it so compelling—it’s not just about technology. It’s about the people living alongside it, and how quickly everything they know begins to shift.