~Orphan Black This is a Canadian production made in partnership with BBC America. It takes off at a Usain Bolt sprint and does not stop. Sarah, a British orphan living in America, is at a train station. Intrigued by a woman calmly removing her shoes and coat, she watches in horror as the woman then proceeds to step off the platform, directly into the path of an oncoming train. But that’s not nearly as horrifying as realizing that the woman looks exactly like herself. But Sarah, never one to miss out on an opportunity (even a morally questionable one) grabs the woman’s bag, hoping that she might be able to impersonate her way into some money. She succeeds for a while, but then things unravel at warp speed. What Sarah quickly discovers is that she is one of multiple clones, all with their own unique identity and life. And this is where the fun begins, because Tatiana Maslaney, brilliantly—and when I say brilliantly, I mean, brilliantly—plays upwards of seven or eight different characters. It boggles the mind as to how how she pulls it off, or how many hours she spend in the make-up chair, because she inhabits every single one of her characters so fully, with such clear definition, that not once do you ever remember that this is the same person playing all of them. Sometimes she plays one clone impersonating another. Seamlessly. There’s Alison, the tightly wound suburban soccer mum whose storylines are some of the funniest in the series. Helena, a deeply damaged and unpredictable Ukrainian assassin who, beneath it all, just wants a sense of belonging. Rachel, the cold, controlled corporate business woman. Cosima, the brilliant, dreadlocked scientist trying to understand the science behind it all. Even Tony, a transgender clone who isn’t around for long but is highly entertaining when he is. And then there’s Felix — Sarah’s foster brother. If it is at all possible for someone to steal the show from a person who plays multiple characters brilliantly, then Felix does just that. He is fabulously flamboyant and just downright hysterical. Orphan Black is jam packed with intrigue, suspense, conspiracy, and nail-biting twists and turns as the clones try to piece together the truth of their existence. Five seasons of utterly bonkers, gripping drama with the warmth and delight of human connection thrumming at its core.
~Black Mirror This series has always been a bit hit and miss for me. 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 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 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, things begin to unravel. And then there’s the very first episode—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.
~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.