“The first time I felt myself fall in love with you was on my phone.â€
That’s what Darby tells Bill one day after he’s spent the last couple of minutes ranting about how cell phones are killing us. They’re not just phones anymore, he says, they’re mini-computers, and we’re so endlessly glued to them that we’re losing ourselves. He even likens screens to cigarettes.
For many detractors of A Murder at the End of the World, this type of dialogue about technology might feel simplistic, ham-fisted, and even cringey — especially if you’re the type of person who views Black Mirror as “what if phones, but too much?†I’ll admit that I roll my eyes sometimes watching this show, especially during that early scene of Martin showing off his Ernest Hemingway–writing–Harry Potter party trick. I agree with most of what Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij have to say about climate change, capitalism, and the dangers of AI, but it’s not like those subjects are typically discussed with any real subtlety.
That flashback out in the desert shouldn’t be any different; in fact, a conversation about cell phones is probably more likely to provoke eye rolls than a conversation about AI because at least the latter is particularly relevant right now. And yet my eyeballs remained firmly in place during this scene. I didn’t see two empty mouthpieces regurgitating boomer complaints; I saw two characters I really cared about, talking at first obliquely and then explicitly about their own love story. Here’s a guy who recognizes that his girlfriend’s heart is torn in two: She cares about him, but she might care even more about the case they’ve spent their whole relationship working on. When Bill sees Darby glancing at her phone over and over, it scares him — not because she’s so easily distracted by her phone, but because she won’t open herself up to him the way he’s opening himself up to her. She won’t slow down.
But then Darby says that line: “The first time I felt myself fall in love with you was on my phone.†It’s a satisfying payoff to Bill’s unanswered question, a poignant moment that the episode doesn’t overplay. But it works on a thematic level, too, complicating Bill’s all-negative view of tech while also clarifying the show’s view. Technology is neither inherently good nor inherently evil; what matters is how we use it. As Joe MacMillan once said in Halt and Catch Fire, this century’s best drama about tech and the internet, “Computers aren’t the thing. They’re the thing that gets you to the thing.†We might spend so much of our lives online, but broadly speaking, we do it for a reason: because it allows us to find connection. Sometimes real love stories are born on the internet.
“Chapter 5: Crypt†is the type of episode I always hoped this show was capable of, partly because it seamlessly weds its principal thematic concerns to good character work. Darby and Bill really came into focus for me as people here in a way they haven’t since the first episode; in past and present, we’re locked into Darby’s perspective, going through two very different emotional experiences while two very different investigations play out. In both, she’s closing in on an answer — but while the end of one search seemingly promises joy, catharsis, and connection, the other keeps breeding more fear, panic, and distrust.
There’s a full-circle feeling now that we’re seeing the final events that took place before Darby and Bill’s showdown with the serial killer. Darby wakes Bill up one night, drunk and high on Adderall, to share the final pieces: “E. Bell,†the original owner of the ring they found in the last episode’s flashback, passed it down to her son, who eventually gave it to his son, a cop who gave it to his wife, Patricia. Patricia mysteriously disappeared, her husband retired early, and now Darby has the last known address of an all-but-confirmed serial killer.
It’s a huge breakthrough, but it’s hard for Bill (or us) to feel triumphant when he can see how much of a toll this has taken on Darby, whose monomaniacal focus on the case has kept her from sleeping or eating. Bill has always admired her ability to see beyond the statistics and envision a rich inner life for each victim, but now she’s losing sight of the goal; after all, she can’t bring any of those victims back, and their killer might even like the attention. When Bill brings up his concerns, though, Darby defensively lashes out, leading to a fight I’ve been expecting for a few episodes now. It’s not over between them yet — a brief fire leaves them shaken but united — but we’re seeing the factors that will directly lead to Bill leaving Darby.
Darby’s internal conflict is front and center in the present, too. It’s harrowing to see her desperately crushing up Adderall again to focus, especially now that we’ve seen how her manic sleuthing obsession put her in danger in the past. But “Chapter 5†also manages to shade in the supporting cast more than any episode before, finally letting this show be the ensemble murder mystery it has only fleetingly resembled so far.
Maybe the smartest move in Brit Marling’s script is the decision to let the tension between Darby and Andy Ronson thaw for a bit. Their team-up is a nice change of pace, starting with the revelation that Ronson is sterile and always knew Zoomer was Bill’s son. Ronson was apparently receiving a late-night life-extension therapy session in the medical bay during Bill’s murder. While it’s still possible there’s some funny business going on here and Ronson is deceiving Darby with the help of tech (like Ray?), I’m inclined to believe him this time. He’s always felt like too obvious of a choice to be the killer, and it makes sense that he’d suspect someone is trying to set him up.
Darby and Ronson conduct a few interviews with other guests, including David and Oliver, who slept together twice on the night of Bill’s murder. Some clues point to David as a top suspect: He was hanging out weirdly in the halls that night, he got an unexplained call from Bill, he won’t answer any questions, and he’s played by Raúl Esparza. I’m still not convinced that any of the guests are responsible for what’s been happening, though. We haven’t spent enough time with David for him to be a satisfying answer to this big mystery; the same holds true for Lu Mei, Oliver, Ziba, and Martin, even after this episode.
Still, it’s fun to watch Darby just do some old-fashioned detective work, especially with her (admittedly short-lived) new partnership. When she visits Lee to ask about the brief break in her poker-game alibi, she accidentally reveals the truth of Zoomer’s parentage, something even Lee didn’t know. But then there’s something else to worry about: Lee has squirreled away a wig and new passport in a bag, suggesting she could be the one intent on taking her husband down. (Sian’s later speculation leaves the possibility open.) And then Darby gets attacked in her own room by someone in leather gloves, warning her not to get someone else killed.
At an hour and 15 minutes, this is the longest installment of the series, and perhaps it does bite off more than it can chew; the show hasn’t expressed much interest in its supporting characters until now, and with only two episodes left after this one, a few cursory interview scenes might be too little, too late. Still, I appreciate that this episode pushes the plot forward while allowing plenty of space to explore the psychological effects of this whole debacle.
The courtyard bonfire scene is important in that way: It’s a rare moment when we get to spend time with the guests, unencumbered by Ronson’s oppressive presence and Lee’s shady politeness. In the aftermath of Sian’s death, the mood is grim, and there’s not much trust to go around, but there’s room for solidarity. When Darby describes the ten-story bunker where the Ronsons hide out, everyone trades dark jokes about the nefariousness of this place: Perhaps this whole retreat is just an audition to live at the “apocalypse timeshare for millionaires,†a place created for the ultrarich to ride out the climate crisis they created.
The tone turns back to somber when Darby admits how sad she feels, but she gets some unlikely warmth and comfort from Ziba, who comforts her by stressing the necessity of taking time to mourn when someone passes. They carry out a small ceremony, naming each of the three dead while the northern lights dance overhead, but saying Bill’s name feels impossible. “If I say his name, he won’t come back,†Darby says.
“Chapter 5†is a significant episode for this story, turning up the pressure everywhere and finally addressing all the potential suspects. Everything feels urgent now, and the attacks are getting closer together: There’s no way Darby doesn’t make it out of that attempted pool drowning alive, but that doesn’t make the final scene any less intense.
But plot progression aside, this is also the show’s strongest ensemble episode. This is the first time in the show where the present-day storyline kept me engaged as much as the flashbacks, where the guests seemed more like a bizarre but believable friend group than a collection of indistinct strangers. Even if some characters still remain very undeveloped (hello, Martin), and even if there are still only a few who really feel like viable suspects, this cast is starting to feel like a well-oiled machine. I’m starting to wish there were more than seven episodes.
Zeroes and Ones
• Nice moment when the 3-D security scan shows the image of Darby visiting an overdosing Bill, leaving her shaken as she tries to press forward with her brainstorming.
• Lu Mei’s firewall hack doesn’t raise my suspicions much, but I have to say, all the talk of tech that can “anticipate criminal behavior†is troubling.
• Emma Corrin and Harris Dickinson do typically great work here, but I’ll shout out Clive Owen’s simultaneously funny and terrifying performance in the scene when Ronson learns of a leak and explodes in frustration … before accepting the phone from Marius and answering calmly.
• The show doesn’t elaborate much on Bill’s history with drugs and alcohol, despite the way he died and the way he helped Rohan get sober, but it must’ve been a factor in his discomfort with Darby’s constant drinking and using, right?
• Maybe “I feel like I’d have to die for you to love me†is a cheesy line considering what we know about Bill, but it still worked for me, especially because of the way the scene is edited, with a quick cut back to present-day Darby gasping at the visceral memory.
• In a particularly vulnerable moment, Darby opens up to Ray, who explains that people have been venting to AI for over 50 years.
• “Fuck off, Marius.â€