Fluid Sexuality in ‘Striking Vipers’

Fluid Sexuality in ‘Striking Vipers’

If you’ve seen the new season of Black Mirror, you’ll have seen the show’s heavily lauded first episode, “Striking Vipers”. And boy, was it a real doozy – from its strong cast, unpredictability, and the way it tackled certain societal topics, it has easily become one of my favourite episodes.

Warning: Major spoilers for Black Mirror‘s “Striking Vipers” below (S5E1). Read at your own risk.

The episode begins with two people, Danny (Anthony Mackie) and Theo (Nicole Beharie). They seem to be strangers at the bar at a busy club, only to reveal a few moments later that they were role-playing and are, in reality, a couple. The two live with Danny’s best friend, Karl (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) and the pair often spend nights playing a Streetfighter-esque game called Striking Vipers. Cut to eleven years later: Theo and Danny are married with a kid, and Danny is visibly mellowed, despite it being his birthday. He is a family man now, surrounded only by other kids and couples, and the ennui on his face is indicative of how he feels about that. Karl is now hardly a presence in his life but shows up every year for his birthday. When Karl shows up this time, he brings Striking Vipers as a gift. Only now, it’s a virtual reality version. The two catch up, and the obvious determining factor of their waned friendship is that Karl is still single and hasn’t started a family, where Danny has.

Later that night, Danny is initially hesitant to try the new VR version of the game, but after some coaxing from Karl, he gives it a go. As the two sit in the comfort of their respective homes, they plug in the game: they press a tiny chip into their head, and voila. The game transports them as a seemingly physical entity into the setting. They can feel pain, touch, and every sense a human normally feels. The concept of blurring the lines of reality is extremely on brand with Black Mirror. Danny plays as Lance (Ludi Lin) and Karl as Roxette (Pom Klementieff). They begin to fight and get back into their old comfort zone: two best friends engaging in a game of friendly competition.

And here’s where it gets interesting. After a rather intimate tackle catches them off-guard, Roxette kisses Lance. Which means Karl kisses Danny. Confused and upset, Lance (Danny) backs away and the two abruptly exit the game. It’s bizarre, it’s awkward, it’s confusing: is Danny cheating if it’s not technically “real”? The show does well to bounce back and forth between shots of Lance and Roxette in the game, and the eerily motionless Danny and Karl as they sit with the VR chip on their heads.

Despite the initial reaction on Danny’s part, the two (as Roxette and Lance) soon begin to engage in a heated affair, plugging themselves into Striking Vipers every night. It becomes very clear that these two can’t resist the magnetic sexual tension they feel as the VR characters, and part of that is owed to the palpable chemistry that Klementieff and Lin bring to the roles. As the episode progresses, Theo begins to notice that Danny is pulling away, particularly as they try to conceive for a second child. The narrative also spends a decent amount of time focusing on Theo, who has no trouble attracting handsome strangers at bars and who seems to be, on some level, intrigued by the idea. It’s not until she gives a heart-wrenching monologue to Danny on their anniversary about the sacrifices one makes in a partnership that we realize just how unhappy she is, too.

Let me start off by saying I love that this episode has an entirely PoC cast. Karl, Danny, and Theo are black, and Lance and Roxette are East-Asian. Though Black Mirror has generally been good on a diversity level, this is the first episode to have a fully PoC cast. This episode is practically revolutionary in nature, for many reasons. It plays with the concept of sexual fluidity in a way that has never been broached on Black Mirror before. These are two men that are hooking up with each other, making it technically a homosexual relationship. However, they are hooking up as male and female characters, making the relationship technically heterosexual in nature.

The concept of gender is also explored. Karl is in the body of Roxette, and when Danny (as Lance) asks Roxette what the female experience is like, she is able to compare the female orgasm to the male orgasm because technically, Roxette is Karl. Who is biologically male. So at the end of the day: does it really matter? Do we really need to label their relationship as gay, straight, bi, or otherwise? In an era where gender non-conforming, trans, genderqueer, gender neutral, pansexual, androgynous, and queer individuals are becoming more and more visible, labels are becoming more obsolete. And good riddance to those labels, because gender and heteronormativity are really just social constructs stemmed from the archaic notion that humans exist solely to reproduce.

Photo by Charlein Gracia on Unplash

What makes this concept even more poignant is that Danny and Karl are played by two black men. I’m sure I can speak for many viewers – including myself – that found the moment where Roxette and Lance kiss to be entirely unexpected. Though I am somewhat ashamed for assuming that the writers would not put two black men together romantically, this is partially due to the lack of black queer representation in the mainstream. It is rare to see two “seemingly straight” (aka. stereotypically masculine) black men showing any ounce of deviation from their heterosexuality. Let alone engaging in a relationship with each other.

Toxic masculinity is present amongst almost all races and societies, but it takes on a more elevated and connotative presence within the black community. Though I don’t consider myself an expert on the topic by any means, I do know that it stems from many things: the systemic oppression of black people (particularly in America and the Western world) and the cycle of institutionalized racism, incarceration, and economic disparity are just a few on the long list. (When in doubt, blame colonialism. Seriously.) Toxic masculinity breeds the idea of “stereotypical manliness”, and thus not being able to show any deviance from what it “means to be a man” (ie. not showing any emotion other than anger, being a dominant figure, etc). Often, heteronormativity and being “visibly straight” has a big part to play in toxic masculinity. In fact, in many PoC communities, there is an inherent obsession with what it means to be “male” and “female”, so there is a distinct pressure to adhere to the sex you were assigned at birth. Needless to say, choosing two black men to play the roles of Danny and Karl, whose narrative singlehandedly challenges the entire concept of sexuality and gender, is an important one.

The episode finally comes to a close when Danny, who has been going through a tumultuous internal struggle and who has cut off the relationship with Karl a few times, only to be dragged back in again, asks Karl to meet in person. They decide to kiss as the real Danny and Karl to see if the unbeatable chemistry exists in reality. And. . . it doesn’t. An underwhelming peck on the lips determines that their sexual chemistry only exists as Lance and Roxette, but Karl is still desperate to continue the VR relationship. The two end up in a physical fight.

As a society, we need to continue to build atop the narrative of queer PoC relationships and break barriers of gender stereotypes and heteronormativity. “Striking Vipers” does this, as these characters actually fall for each other amidst their magnetic chemistry. It truly makes viewers question the fabric of reality: what is “real” and what isn’t? What makes it real is when Karl admits to Danny that, when Danny had asked to stop the virtual relationship, Karl hooked up with others in the game. He even went so far as asking someone else to play as Lance but admits that it never measured up to their own chemistry. When Danny and Karl decide to kiss in real life, it almost feels as if they are still holding back – as if it is easier to be the straight couple in the VR game than it is to be two black men having a dalliance in real life. Or perhaps it really is the no-risk fantasy aspect of it all. In any case, they make their decision that the chemistry is not the same in person, but that the chemistry in the game will never go away.

The episode ends when an angry Theo, who begs Danny to communicate with her, picks him up from the police station. It is implied that Danny finally tells her everything. We cut to months later when it is Danny’s birthday again. The sequence is seamless, beautiful, and is inter-layered with the credits. Theo and Danny exchange gifts, and she tells him “I want that back in the morning”. He tells her “Ditto”. He has the Striking Vipers chip; she takes off her wedding ring. Danny gets to play the game with Karl, having sex as Lance and Roxette, and Theo gets to venture to a bar alone, presumably to hook up with a stranger.

Another massive concept is challenged here: monogamy. Particularly because the episode ends in a non-monogamous (also known as polyamorous or open) marriage between Theo and Danny. The scene that opened the episode, where Theo and Danny partake in role-play, now becomes an evident piece of foreshadowing. Even though it’s only implied that their extramarital activities happen once a year (on Danny’s birthday), this is still a big step. Ethical non-monogamy is still a concept that hasn’t been explored in a lot of media but is practiced by many in real life. However, it is still considered to be largely taboo, especially in the PoC community.

Ultimately, this episode did many things. It makes us realize just how fluid sexuality can be, how it can exceed even our own ideas of who we are. It shows us that men, particularly PoC men, can be just as in touch with their feminine side as they can be their masculine side and have that be okay. It shows us a candid portrayal of the ennui of marriage and family, the hardships of getting older, and the ups-and-downs of relationships. It challenges the concept of monogamy, of gender, of love. Most of all, it shows us that we are not confined to any label, no matter how much the world wants to label us.

Happy Pride, everyone.

~ Z ~

Photo by Jens Kreuter on Unsplash

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