Every once in a while, a TV show comes out of nowhere and changes the very fabric of the medium. Off the top of my head, I can think of five: Twin Peaks, Lost, The Sopranos, Game of Thrones and Breaking Bad. After Vince Gilligan’s hit drug drama ended in 2013, I wondered what series would capture the cultural zeitgeist next.
The answer came in the form of an edgy show about the internet, of all things. It starred a relatively unknown character actor as a flawed, neurodivergent hacker genius who gets sucked into a shadow government conspiracy. The show was lifted up by solid performances, relevant themes, slick writing, epic world-building and enough twists and turns to keep you guessing week in and week out.
The program I am talking about is an Emmy-winner, a game-changer and one of the best thrillers to ever hit television. Now, for the first time ever in the United States, it is available to stream in full on Netflix.
This is Mr. Robot.
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«Hello, friend,» Rami Malek’s hacker antihero Elliot Alderson says in the opening moments of the pilot episode. He’s talking to the audience. But moreover, I took it to heart that he was talking to me. As someone who related to his antisocial, black hoodie-wearing, outcast vibe, it felt as if Elliot was the TV embodiment of me — if my goth outcast phase of the ’90s and ’00s never ended.
Without getting too into the weeds here, Mr. Robot follows Elliot, a computer programmer who works for a giant company, named E-Corp (or Evil Corp, depending on who you ask) by day and flexes his chops as a hacker at night. He gets recruited by a mysterious Anonymous-like organization that wants to crash corporate America. The only issue? He works for the company at the top of the greedy corporate food chain.
That’s the nutshell explanation but there’s more going on here than that. Add in a V for Vendetta-style anarchist cult, a mysterious mentor figure (conveniently named Mr. Robot) and a complicated mental health struggle and you have one heck of a layered onion to unpeel.
Mr. Robot is an absolute banger of a TV show. It was different from anything else on television (and pretty much, still is). It was clear from the jump that this series was going to move the needle; it was a programming paradigm shift and it had a lot to say.
Christian Slater plays Mr. Robot, whose recognizable cadence and smirky, sardonic delivery make Elliot’s sidekick a compelling character who can be charismatic and abhorrent in the same breath.
Cocky, confident, and a bit sociopathic, Slater’s Mr. Robot is the antithesis of Malek’s Elliot. Their relationship dynamic is reminiscent of the one between Brad Pitt’s Tyler Durden and Edward Norton’s Jack in David Fincher’s 1999 cult classic, Fight Club.
Mr. Robot explores a slew of heavy themes that can be tough to stomach. It’s the rare occurrence where the use of voice-over narration elevates the whole story instead of feeling like a storytelling shortcut. Elliot regularly addresses the viewer and his narration is never ham-fisted.
In fact, Malek is on another level here. Emotionally resonant, intense, vulnerable — his range runs the gamut — and he’s simply enthralling as Elliot.
As his world unravels and he’s forced to question the chaos happening around him, he regularly breaks the fourth wall to talk with us at home — which is welcoming and unnerving — and invites us deeper into his reality.
In the series’ opening moments, all it took was hearing him say, «Hello, friend,» and I was fully invested in the slippery slope of insanity that followed. Mac Quayle’s Emmy-winning, techno-laden score kept me nodding my head, even during the show’s twistiest twists.
Slater and Malek are the powerhouses here, and their characters’ storylines are the lifeblood of Mr. Robot. The supporting players also bring their A-games. Carly Chaikin, Portia Doubleday, Martin Wallström, BD Wong, Michael Cristofer and Joey Bada$$ deliver memorable performances that succeed in building out Esmail’s sleek yet bleak world. The aforementioned hip-hop artist is an absolute delight.
Recently, I wrote about FX’s Legion and the ways in which that Marvel series pushed the envelope with what can be done on basic cable. Esmail did the exact same thing with Mr. Robot (on the USA Network, no less) by infusing style elements into the city streets and cold buildings, reminiscent of the aesthetic the Wachowskis brought to The Matrix. Elliot (go with me here) can even be viewed as a Neo but without all the supernatural sci-fi minutiae that came with that story.
As kooky and bizarre as things get, Esmail manages to keep things grounded and believable. His attention to authenticity, like using real Linux code every time Elliot is seen typing on-screen, is on point. I said earlier that this was a TV show about the internet and, really, it’s probably the most accurate-feeling representation of the dark web subculture I have ever seen on television.
A hacker series winning Emmy awards? Yes, that happened. Yet, Mr. Robot was anything but mainstream, which, funnily enough, is what made it mainstream.
Even though things get pretty dark, Esmail came prepared. There is a surprising amount of humor threaded throughout the series that helps to offset the bleak nature of the show’s looming dystopia. He uses pop culture nostalgia and disruptive production techniques to keep us on our toes. One specific episode featured a reality-altering flashback, curious visuals and an iconic ’80s sitcom alien that made me sit up and yell at the television like Leonardo DiCaprio in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.
It’s been a decade since the conspiracy thriller first hit the USA Network. It was a time before TikTok, misinformation, deep fakes and AI. Yet, through all these social media and technological advancements, the show holds up. In fact, the overarching themes like political corruption, corporate greed and untreated mental health issues, somehow make Mr. Robot even more relevant today. If I’m being honest, friend, I really can’t think of anything I’d rather binge this Fourth of July holiday weekend.
