IN CONVERSATION WITH CHARLIE BROOKER

interview by TIMOTEJ LETONJA
words by MARIE-PAULINE CESARI

Numéro Netherlands Digital presents an exclusive conversation with Charlie Brooker, the creator and executive producer of the Emmy® and BAFTA Award-winning anthology series Black Mirror. Known for his razor-sharp satire and dystopian imagination, Brooker has built a formidable career across television, print, and digital media. From early writing credits on Brass Eye and The 11 O’Clock Show to genre-defining projects like Dead Set, Nathan Barley, and A Touch of Cloth, his work consistently challenges the boundaries of storytelling. As the mind behind Black Mirror, Brooker continues to explore the darker undercurrents of modern society—technology, media, and human behaviour—with unnerving precision and biting wit.

In this interview, Charlie reflects on inspiration, satire, and the creeping sense that maybe reality is beginning to outpace fiction.

How has your relationship with technology evolved since creating Black Mirror?

In a way, it hasn’t changed that much. It might surprise people, but I’ve always been very pro-technology. I used to be a video game journalist in the 1990s, so I’ve always been quite techie — I love computers and all that. You couldn’t do Black Mirror if you hated technology; it just wouldn’t work.

In our stories, it’s usually the humans who mess things up — the technology is neutral. That’s always been the approach.

What *has* changed, though, is the pace of technological development. Since we started the show in 2011, things have accelerated dramatically. There’s now a wider range of tech out there to inspire stories, and the audience is more familiar with advanced concepts.

That makes it easier — you don’t have to explain every idea from scratch. Ten years ago, something like an AI chatbot would have needed lots of setup. Now, everyone has ChatGPT on their phone. So it's opened up a lot more possibilities.

Do you usually begin with a concept, a question, or an emotional thread when writing a new episode?

It really depends. Sometimes it starts with a concept — like a specific piece of technology or device — and I begin thinking through the consequences of that. Other times, it might be more abstract: a moment, a vibe, or even just a scene.

For example, in the recent episode Joan Is Awful, there were two different ideas floating around. One was about a studio replacing an actor in a film and inserting someone else into the story — originally, I was thinking of something like a James Bond-type setup. At the same time, I had another idea about someone restoring an old noir film and discovering they could talk to the people inside it. But I couldn’t figure out why that was happening — what the story was.

Then I watched two things: the *Get Back* Beatles documentary, where Peter Jackson used tech to revive old footage, and *Brief Encounter*, a 1940s British romantic film I’d never seen before. Somehow, those pieces clicked, and the story came together.

That happens a lot — two half-formed ideas will suddenly merge into something new. Quite often, the final story ends up being very different from what I initially imagined.

San Junipero, for example, started out as a horror concept. I was thinking about VR technology and death — people stuck in a nostalgic simulation, dying while inside it. But as I followed that thread, it transformed into something entirely different. So yes, the process is messy, but it’s part of the fun.

What makes a story feel urgent enough to explore through satire?

You know what? I don’t really look at the news and go, *“Right, I need to do a story about that.”* It’s more that I get this uneasy feeling about something that *might* happen—like a logical conclusion based on what’s going on now.

You often end up somewhere unexpected. Our first episode this season, *Common People,* is probably the most satirical one. It came from a mix of odd sources. Have you heard the word “enshittification”?

It’s from writer Cory Doctorow. It describes how tech services get worse over time as companies try to turn a profit. You start with an Amazon Echo that shows family photos, helps with timers—and then suddenly it’s showing ads you can’t turn off. Or take Uber—disruptive at first, but then it all gets squeezed to keep growing.

That was in the back of my mind. I also remember listening to a true crime podcast—right after describing a horrific crime, the host cut to an ad for a vegetable box. That contrast really stuck with me. Glue those ideas together and you get something angrier than expected. You start by satirizing one thing, and end up satirizing everything. It becomes about this general feeling: everyone’s getting squeezed—financially, emotionally, existentially.

So it really depends. Sometimes there’s a sharp point going in—something that genuinely angers you. Other times, you find the point while telling the story.

Has the real world ever moved faster—or darker—than your own fictional scenarios?

Sometimes. Sometimes it catches up—or worse, overtakes what you had in mind. There’s this idea I’ve been wanting to do for a couple of years now. I still can’t quite work out the story, and I’m slightly worried it might already feel dated. It was quite specific, and now I wonder if it would look a bit too old-fashioned if I actually made it.

I don’t want to say what it is because I might still get a chance to do it—don’t want to jinx it. But yes, sometimes reality does overtake fiction.

Other times, you know—right, we’ve got to do *this* episode now because it feels timely. There were definitely a couple this season that came from that sense of urgency.

(Then we had that little tech glitch—kind of ironic, since we’re talking about tech, and we’re relying on it to do the interview!)

What role do you think fiction plays in how we process or prepare for our digital future?

I'm not sure. In a way, I feel like no matter what you've read or watched—whether it's about smartphones, social media, or now AI—when a new tech creation comes along, it's like a genie you can't put back in the bottle. If it’s useful or seductive, people will use it, regardless.

I guess if a piece of fiction helps someone to see things slightly differently, then great. Sometimes people say Black Mirror is a warning about technology. I don’t really see it that way—or at least, that’s not my intention.

It’s more a worried show, because I worry a lot. Often the show is just me worrying about things. So if it helps prepare you, that’s good—but at the very least, it can be a decent distraction from the darker possibilities, like if AI takes over or we all get replaced by robots.

How do you find the right tone when mixing dark themes with moments of humor or levity?

I think that’s always been quite natural for me. My background is in comedy, especially in the UK. I’ve spent a lot of time writing with my comedy hat on—like for Kunk on Earth or Kunk on Britain, with the character Philomena Kunk.

So often when I’m coming up with ideas, even if the final story isn’t played for laughs, I’m laughing through the process. The tone I gravitate towards is often like the original RoboCop from the ’80s—jet-black satire, moments of levity, moments of horror, and a high-concept core.

Sometimes the humor is dry, sometimes it’s broader. I think the show works best when there’s a twinkle in its eye. Other times we play things completely earnestly. But humor’s important—it’s often harder to pull off than horror, actually. And people have high expectations for it. The way we relate to humor has also evolved—it’s always shifting.

Is there a theme or cultural shift you're currently intrigued by and would like to explore in a future Black Mirror episode?

There is, yes—but I’d probably be spoiling it by saying what it is. There’s a whole story idea I’ve worked out, and now I can’t figure out if it’s a Black Mirror episode or a big blockbuster movie. It’s quite high concept, and I think it would resonate with a lot of people.

But I don’t want to jinx it. So I’ll keep quiet for now. But yes—definitely—there are new ideas bubbling away.

Music often plays a significant role in your storytelling. How do you approach its emotional connection to the narrative?

Oh, I think about music a lot—especially this season. There’s one episode where music is central to the storyline, and another that features a long, unbroken stretch of music with no dialogue at all.

Often, if we’re using a specific track, I’ll write it into the script. If I’m stuck, I’ll go out running and listen to music—that’s when a lot of story ideas or solutions come to me.

With San Junipero, many of the song choices were very deliberate, often reflecting or commenting on what’s happening in the story. Same with Demon 79—the music was specific and scripted. So I do put a lot of thought into it. Music can be incredibly evocative and emotional when it’s done right.

We’re also lucky—we work with fantastic composers. I think that’ll really come through again this season.

Lastly, I won’t ask you to choose a favorite episode—that feels a bit cliché—but is there a particular theme or story this season that holds personal meaning for you?

Ooh, that’s a good question. I think there are a couple this season that stand out, personally. One is very reflective—it’s about someone walking through memories of the past. I do like the romantic ones, strangely, so I must be a bit gooey. But then I also like the ones that are pitiless and merciless… So I don’t know what that says about me.

It’s hard to pick just one. When we did San Junipero, the reaction was incredibly meaningful. But I’m excited to see how people respond to this season. That’s always the most interesting part.