Death to 2020. It’s the most popular sentiment of the year. One that has reached a crescendo during the final month that has been almost as feverish as the zeal for Tiger King was at the beginning of this “thing.” Co-created by Charlie Brooker and Annabel Jones, many would shy away from a spoof documentary of 2020 in the present climate, what with sensitivities running higher than ever (just when you thought that couldn’t possibly be the case) and people being quick to brand it “too soon.” And maybe that’s partially the issue with Death to 2020, which might be comical if it weren’t so tragic. Granted, Brooker does have a well-thought out coterie of “talking heads” to represent the different archetypes we saw at the forefront in 2020, notably Kathy (Cristin Milioti), who showcases her undercutting yet overt penchant for racism at every turn.
In addition to the “too soon” criticism, that aspect bleeds into the apparent fact that the project was clearly rushed in order to come out by exactly the end of the year–and it doesn’t exactly serve as a “great” time capsule for historians to look to in the future (that is, if there’s anyone left with a brain cell in the future in order to be a historian). Maybe no one will even want to talk or think about 2020 when it’s over, after all. Or maybe they’ll be too busy one-upping the shit-talk on 2021. In any case, in the bid to “get it out on time,” it’s hurried to the point where they couldn’t even include mention of Jennifer Aniston’s “Our First Pandemic” ornament. And let’s be honest, there was never a celebrity moment more tailored for inclusion in a mockumentary. What’s more, who knows what New Year’s Eve might have in store, as the speakeasy climate of underground parties reaches a crescendo? The point is, even with just a couple of days left in the year, it might still have a big finish. God willing, an asteroid will hit.
That aside, Brooker relies on his Black Mirror and Weekly Wipe chops to imbue the narrative with equal parts roundup and satire. The year already begins in ignominy, with the continuing Australian bushfires raging. It would end up killing, displacing or harming three billion animals. Billion. Spurred by lightning, arson and climate change, it was just more proof that humans are assholes ruining animals’ lives. Moreover, it would be a precursor to the California narrative later on in the year (though that never gets brought up in Death to 2020). After Trump announces he ordered a hit on Qasem Soleimani, the second most powerful political force in Iran, threats of WWIII are already being bandied by January 3, 2020.
Brewing in the background is the slow-trickling news reports of an “outbreak” in Wuhan, China. It still seems so far away, a glimmer of tragedy porn to watch unfold from the other side of the globe. To comment on it all is Dash Bracket (Samuel L. Jackson), a reporter for the New Yorkerly Times, Tennyson Foss (Hugh Grant), a historian, Bark Multiverse (Kumail Nanjiani), CEO of Shreekr, a technology company, Jeanetta Grace Susan (Lisa Kudrow), a non-official conservative spokesperson, Dr. Maggie Gravel (Leslie Jones), a behavioral psychologist, and Duke Goolies (Joe Keery), a gig economy millennial.
With each of their perspectives, we watch as catastrophe strikes every day in 2020, and yet, to the “average” Western pig, it seems as though nothing new is happening. It’s one endless vacuum of sameness as they reckon with being trapped inside (with no new Netflix content to watch, nice blatant plug for the streaming service)–or rather, still going outside, but disappointed that there are less activities available to them. Because the only European countries in 2020 that seemed to know the full extent of what a lockdown could be early on were Italy and France, whose strict governments required documentation to justify why your super-spreading ass was out on the streets. Save for a quick mention of Italy, it is the UK and the US that Brooker prefers to center the spotlight on (“Western world”-wise), as though one final tribute to “the special relationship” that’s no longer so special post-Brexit.
Shading the fact that the U.S. couldn’t really “believe” in coronavirus until Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson got it while in Australia, Brooker fails to take it all the way in his roasting of celebrity culture and reverence in America–noticeably missing was Kim Kardashian, who was a poster child for tone deaf social media this year, whether showing us pictures of North’s new Friesian horse or declaring how hard it was to feel normal and then jetting off to a private island where she could finally feel that way with the rest of her family. There was also that atrocious celebrity rendition of “Imagine,” Cardi B and Rita Ora talking about their fabulous maskless parties and, ah yes, Madonna calling COVID the great equalizer before deleting the video off of Instagram after she was likely told it was not a good look. Then there was Lana Del Rey transforming into a Karen before our very eyes, all the while denying it vehemently with awkward “emotional” videos.
Still, for so much being overlooked, Death to 2020 does cover a lot of ground–for, as much as “nothing happened” all year, everything was happening all the time. Brooker’s focus in the U.S. also centers at one point on New York, with Laurence Fishburne narrating, “America also seems unprepared. New York is hit… hard.” At this point, the mockumentary cuts to footage of Andrew Cuomo’s daily briefings, during a period when the state and city was up his asshole with gratitude for his response before quickly despising him for not reopening more quickly and with fewer restrictions–though he hasn’t had to bear half as much contempt as California governor Gavin Newsom (who gets no mention because there is clearly no CA love in this movie, nor is there any reference to how it has become the epicenter of the virus on said continent). It is during one of his briefings that Cuomo demands, “Where are the ventilators, where are the gowns, where are the PPEs, where are the masks, where are they?” Fishburne, with his deadpan narration, delivers arguably the only laugh out loud moment with the response, “Sadly he has failed to notice they are piled up behind him.”
He also continues, “Supplies of masks, unlike guns, cannot be cheaply manufactured.” It is, for the most part, Fishburne’s narration that lends the necessary tone of levity to this particular mockumentary, otherwise, some might interpret it to be all too authentic. Including Duke Goolies going on about how he cares so much for the Black Lives Matter cause, and that he wants to make sure everyone knows just how much he cares by posting about it all the time and then finally saying, “So I guess, in a way, I’m Black too, maybe. Maybe more than anyone.” A testament to how white people managed, once again, to appropriate even something that one thought impossible to.
Elsewhere, Brooker borrows the by now tired joke about how “the writers” of 2020 are coming up with too many out of left field plot twists to keep up with, namely in America, where watching the election unfold viewed like experimental reality TV at its worst. And because Trump still believes he is on a reality show, he delivers the only one-dimensional character he can: bulldog bully.
Queen Elizabeth (or “Lilibet”) also proves her miraculous continued relevance during a year when everyone, once again, went apeshit for The Crown (rightly so, because season four was fire). Played by Tracy Ullman (still an OG in terms of being a master of disguise when it comes to comedy), the Queen’s main gripe with 2020, of course, is the departure of Harry and Meghan early on in 2020, which, to her, perhaps already signaled a doomed year–though, for her, could anything ever be worse than 1992, the year she deemed her annus horribilis as scandal and divorce plagued the Royal Family all at once. Likely not. And when you’re as insulated as someone in her echelon, major world changes never really affect you anyway. Unless you’re a celebrity, therefore attention-seeking whore, that cannot live or fathom a life where the focus of everything isn’t about you and, suddenly, it’s deemed in poor taste to try to make it so.
Packing in as many “highlights” as possible (especially for something that only clocks in at about an hour and ten minutes with credits), Death to 2020 ends on the note of our “talking heads” pre-taping comments in anticipation of next year’s roundup, “satirically” predicting a science fiction-like fallout from the vaccine. At the very least, this doesn’t give people the false glimmer of hope they’ve all been desperately clinging to. With memes aplenty making the sweeping assumption that when the clock hits midnight on December 31, 2020, it’s as though everything will magically be reset on January 1, 2021. In truth, a realist can see that ‘21 will only prove that ‘20 was just getting started with its proverbial obliterative groove.
