The Streaming Model: limitless potential or creative cage?

I love streaming. Heard about an interesting show that first aired 20 years ago and no one talks about now? Stream it. Want to catch the latest episode of House of Dragon from the comfort your bedroom at 3am? Stream it. Want to binge all 20 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy in an unhealthily short amount of time? Stream it. The flexibility and variety that streaming affords spoils us all. 

But, as with all change, as much is lost as is gained. The downsides of the streaming model as a consumer have been frequently pointed out, from the ills of binge-watching to the loss of a sense of occasion.  

For my part, I am not particularly bothered by any of this. I’m glad I experienced Breaking Bad as a single sweaty-palmed month of dry-eyed, telly-glued, adrenaline-frenzied, heart-stopping brilliance rather than a protracted five-year waiting game. And if you really miss the feeling of anticipation having to wait for new episodes to come out, then you’re welcome to limit yourself to watching one per week. If you have the discipline to do so, you’re stronger than me. 

My issue lies in the way it warps the television programmes themselves

No, I am very much in favour of the flexibility and variety that streaming provides us as the consumers of television. My issue lies in the way it warps the television programmes themselves. 

As a medium, television has always been beholden to the commercial whims of the business model by which it is supplied to us. It used to be built around advertising; an episode was designed to peak in tension just before an advertising break to ensure viewers would stick around to see the products. And revenue was directly related to viewing numbers, so controversial subject matter was shunned to avoid alienating viewers and draw in the largest possible audience. 

The streaming business model affects the way the shows themselves are written and produced in its own way. The most obvious example of this is the almost pathological obsession with ending episodes on a cliff-hanger. 

The business model of streaming services like Netflix has one basic goal: to keep you watching at all costs. To make sure that no matter what else, when the episode ends, you press that ‘next episode’ button. And the best way to keep you glued to your screen is to make sure that, just as an episode ends and you’re about to get up and turn the TV off, something happens on screen, a twist or reveal that hooks you in for another 50 minutes. 

The streaming model encourages lazy writing which produces cliff-hangers out of thin air

This is nothing new; plenty of the best shows of the last 20 years, such as Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones, have featured episode endings that have left us with our jaws on the flaw, fiending for more. Indeed, it’s only smart, from a writing perspective, to harness the serialised structure of the television series for maximum dramatic effect. 

But the streaming model encourages lazy writing which produces cliff-hangers out of thin air, instead of the intricately established yet nevertheless surprising twists that are the hallmark of some of the greatest shows of all time. 

Another increasingly common feature of shows produced during our age of mass streaming is a greater payoff-to-setup ratio. What I mean by this is that shows focus more on providing generous servings of the big flashy moments that viewers remember, rather than the more humble set-up work which is actually what makes these bigger moments so rewarding. 

One of my favourite moments in all of television comes in the final episode of the fourth season of the HBO show The Sopranos. During an explosive argument between Tony and Carmela Soprano, Tony vindictively throws in his wife’s face a comment she made all the way back in season one, when she told him he was going to hell when he died. The payoff is immense, built over the course of four seasons of careful character development. And all it takes is one sentence. 

The aim becomes to replicate the successful formula of previous shows

Unfortunately, this is the kind of patient set-up for greater pay-off down the line, which appears to be becoming ever-rarer in the streaming age. Perhaps this is because, with the abundance of choice, showrunners can no longer guarantee an audience’s attention for four long seasons. Setting up a delayed payoff takes time, and patience from your audience. Shows in the streaming era seem to favour immediate gratification over laying the groundwork for long term brilliance. 

The final and perhaps the most grievous of the contortions which streaming has caused that I wish to discuss is what I call the ‘More like this’ phenomenon. That’s the little button next to a show’s thumbnail on Netflix which you press to indicate to the algorithm that you would like to be offered more shows like this one. Seems innocuous enough. 

This is once again a symptom of the desire to increase viewing hours. While in itself it may not be a problem, it results in a slew of very similar shows being produced hurriedly based on the model of one successful show. Finished that one police drama that you enjoyed? Here’s another ten which are more or less exactly the same. 

What this doesn’t promote is originality. The aim becomes to replicate the successful formula of previous shows, while creativity is relegated to an afterthought. And although it can be nice when you finish a beloved show to have a catalogue of similar fare close at hand to fill the void it left behind, the utility gained from watching an endless procession of watered-down facsimiles quickly diminishes. 

Enjoyable, well-made television has not been killed off by streaming

A slightly different manifestation of this same phenomenon is the recent obsession with reboots and sequels. From the Game of Thrones prequel House of the Dragon, to spin offs of The Boys and The Lord of the Rings on Amazon Prime, streaming services are investing their capital in reliable franchises with pre-established success and a ready-made audience. While this doesn’t necessarily indicate that the quality of these shows will be any less, it is once again the result of corporate caution taking precedence over ingenuity. Where’s the money to green-light a charming, unique, small-scale pilot when you’ve just spent $465 million on a fantasy-behemoth sequel no one asked for? 

All of this is not to say that television is no longer worth watching. There is a long list of shows which prove that enjoyable, well-made television has not been killed off by streaming. What worries me is the increasing tendency of the material to be subjected to commercial demands, rather than the other way around. Showrunners seem to view the streaming model as a cage, when in reality it could be a spring-board for greater artistic expression. 

Indeed, the creators of some series have already begun to tentatively probe the creative opportunities afforded by streaming. For example, Love, Death, Robots, an anthology series on Netflix, forgoes standardised episode run times. Its creators have realised that in the age of on demand viewing, television doesn’t need to fill out a specified airtime, just our free time. 

This type of forward thinking, adapting to the market demands of the medium without sacrificing creativity or integrity is reassuring. Because streaming isn’t going anywhere. Nor would I want it to. Thanks to streaming, we have access to a wider variety of content, just a few clicks away, than ever before in history. I just hope that the content continues to be original and engaging, despite the new commercial demands of the streaming era.