The Age of Netflix Page 3
Television producers and showrunners have begun to recognize the preferred methods of audience consumption, and as such, now model their series to further promote this. A 2013 issue of Newsweek cites conversations with “the people behind Breaking Bad [2008–2013], Game of Thrones [2011–], and so on, and it soon becomes clear that they’ve designed these series to be more bingeable—more propulsive and page-turning—than anything the networks ever pushed on us in the past.”6 Additionally, Breaking Bad creator Vince Gilligan explains an embrace of binge-watching: “I’ve always said that I don’t see my show as serialized so much as hyperserialized. That is something that, honestly, I wouldn’t have been allowed to do 10 or 15 years ago.”7 Consequently, binge-watching can be viewed as a collaborative negotiation between multiple entities—audiences, creators, and streaming platforms. Furthermore, studies of temporal displacement for audiences suggests that this “simultaneity within the structure of [many television programs] … parallels a growing concern of audiences with the immateriality and timelessness of interactive online digital technologies.”8 As such, marathon consumption of television programming is a natural evolution of the television experience, propelled forward by an increased rhetorical awareness of audiences by producers and amplified availability of programming via streaming platforms.
Though this television streaming revolution occurs in concert with human nature and desire, it is not without conflicting consequences. Viewers are caught between the contemporary thirst to binge-watch programming and the long-established desire to be part of a large community through television. This conflict has given rise to a myriad of negotiations between audiences and the traditional television model, social media, and blogs. Simply put, the polar opposites of the desire for the community that the traditional television experience provides and the human desire—likely hastened by a rapidly changing technological landscape—to consume content in binge sessions has led to crossroads for the future of television. Subsequently, traditional television, audiences, and steaming platforms will in turn continue to adapt to changing notions of temporality.
These spaces of inquiry follow Cintron’s contention that “rhetorical analysis can help make sense of everyday language use … rhetorical analysis need not be about famous beaches and or the written word. Indeed, it need not be about the discursive at all and should also include the non-discursive and performative.”9 As such, audience and blogger commentary are ideal areas of study for understanding the negotiation of the new temporality and vernacular rhetoric created in response to the binge-watching paradigm created by the release of Netflix original series. When conducting my analysis on the responses to Arrested Development and OITNB, four themes quickly emerged: negotiation of temporality, responses to binge-watching, navigating spoilers, and cultivation of online ethos.
Negotiation of Temporality
Research into the temporality of television has investigated the ways in which awareness and anticipation of the viewing habits of others impacts the coordination and production of the collective television experience.10 In addition, theorists have pointed to an increased use of disrupted temporality in television narratives. For example, the narrative of season four of Arrested Development is told through episodes that focus on the program’s specific characters. Individual episodes do not constitute a linear story—instead, viewers are asked to consume the series holistically in order to fully understand the overarching storyline (and many of the recurring jokes). It is possible that this temporal displacement is a result of postmodern schizophrenia, in which “there is no sense of the ‘past’ or ‘future’ but rather an instantaneous and vacuous sense of the ‘present.’”11 This “vacuous present” comes as a result of the overwhelming availability of information and choice in an individual’s free time. Consequently, the temporal misalignment depicted on many contemporary programs increasingly mirrors the disjointed nature of the communal television experience. Despite this apparent acceptance of a loss of temporal frame of reference, audiences continue to adapt to synchronize consumptive viewing patterns.
Studies have found that new technologies influence viewing patterns of American households in that viewing follows certain rhythms.12 Moreover, audiences use technologies in order to fill time between viewing activities, but they can also make this time more or less meaningful through the use of on-demand technologies.13 In addition, viewing patterns are “are influenced by larger social groups—groups that extend beyond a single household.”14 While it would follow that increased flexibility of television viewing through the use of handheld devices and high-speed internet allows for more personalized schedule, it also appears that audiences remain keenly aware of the viewing habits of others.
In its coverage of season one of OITNB, The A.V. Club examined two episodes at a time. These two-episode reviews were released every seven days, which created an imposed schedule on those who wished to discuss the series in the comment sections. However, an analysis of the comment sections quickly demonstrates the challenges in attempting to impose this two-episode limitation on viewers, many of whom had binge-watched the entire season. When responding to the comments of others, individuals that were further along in their viewing had trouble keeping track of what had occurred in the first two episodes of a 13-episode season. In one such interaction, user K. Thrace had to question when a recurring character appeared, writing, “Was the nun even in that episode? I forget. She’s great, anyway.” Other comments mirrored this sentiment, in that while viewers who binge-watched the series seemed to desire to discuss OITNB in a holistic sense, The A.V. Club’s review structure imposed a more traditional paradigm on viewers.
Commenters occasionally expressed other issues with the site’s insistence of reviewing only two episodes a week, as evidenced by the following interaction between critic Myles McNutt and a site commenter:
MylesMcNutt: The downside of covering the first two episodes is that it encourages you to stop after two episodes when I’d argue the third episode is the strongest—or at least most distinctive—of the ones I’ve watched. I’d encourage you to check it out, and see if it changes your outlook.
mouse clicker: Well, I had already watched the first two episodes and kind of decided not to keep going before I read the review. My wife really seems to like it, so I’ll probably give the third episode a shot, too. But she was also hooked by Weeds [2005–2012] immediately and I didn’t start actually enjoying that show at all until the second season.
Here, it is evident that commenters had issues with the method of review employed by The A.V. Club. Those who felt the series blossomed in episode three or later expressed similar complaints with the site not taking a complete approach in order to encourage viewers to keep watching. These interactions create “an agonistic zone between official and mundane communication in which the established and the marginalized vie for power. Their struggle is enacted through contrasting rhetorical modalities seeking public allegiance and legitimation.”15 Thus, while The A.V. Club uses its position to enact a more traditional viewing paradigm, some viewers took it upon themselves to advocate for the series in a more complete manner, attempting to persuade others to continue watching (and even to catch up through binge-watching).
On the subject of OITNB, writers for Grantland had high praise for the series, but varying affection toward Netflix’s release model. Some of the site’s contributors lauded the binge-watch model, with Rembert Browne arguing, “Netflix banked on what its entire existence was built on, binge-watching, and came out looking like a genius. The company’s easily one of the comeback stories of the year.”16 However, others expressed displeasure toward various aspects of the distribution of programs such as OITNB. In a look back at the year in television, Greenwald wrote, “Orange restored my faith in TV’s ability to tell diverse stories in exciting new ways, and I wanted to shout as much from the rooftops, or at least the guard tower. Too bad I waited until late in the fall to finish the season. By then, there was no one left to tell.
”17 Ultimately, Greenwald and others have complaints not about OITNB itself, but instead about the Netflix release model. In his preview of the series from earlier in 2013, Greenwald noted,
I hate the Netflix distribution model, and the way, every few weeks, it backs up the content truck at the stroke of midnight and offloads 13 hours of industrial-strength television. I’ve written at length about how this emphasis on quantity robs quality material of the time necessary to consider or even savor it, how it mutes the great beehive of conversation that has sprung up around TV in recent years and replaced it with the lonely, furtive clicks of a solitary remote control. We don’t always eat for the sole purpose of getting full, and we shouldn’t consume art that way, either. There’s a reason you’d never order anything à la carte that can be found in an all-you-can-eat buffet.18
Though disrupted temporality is seemingly embraced by fans, who—despite some complaints—rabidly consume Netflix series in marathons, critics and bloggers are less enthusiastic. In these instances, blogs/websites represent what Hauser calls a site of research “where the vernacular rhetoric of place and space is performed, such as a city square where the local culture of inclusion and exclusion, of use and abuse of community spaces is enacted on a daily basis, and where those who are using the city square can say for themselves what they think they are doing by their public performances.”19 In the traditional television review model, the power and control of space is determined by writers, who are in turn supported by the temporal confines established by networks and channels. However, the binge-watching model allows greater power for viewers, who are likely to watch series on their own schedules—regardless of the impositions of the entertainment publishing world.
Writers under the traditional television model are in a position of power over regular viewers. Often, those writing about television are privy to the content early. As such, they are afforded a chance to carefully formulate their own opinions about the program before the majority of viewers have seen it. This, in turn, works to as a way to cultivate professional credibility. In the case of new programming, early reviews have a chance to alter the perception of readers, who are then open to the possibility that their own experience with a program has been shaped by the opinions of others. Under the Netflix model, entertainment correspondents are given the same release as viewers (or at least only given access to a few episodes a day or two before the full season is released). Therefore, it is conceivable that some of the viewers who are responding in the comment sections are more knowledgeable—and further into the season—than the authors of the articles. While the possibility of a reversal of roles (and by extension, authority) between critics and readers may seem subtle and benign, this impact is nevertheless a developing externality of the evolution of the communal television experience.
Responses to Binge-Watching
Though sometimes viewed as a solidary and anti-social activity, watching television is, in actuality, a largely communal event. Television has “traditionally been an important facilitator for social interaction and a popular source of conversation.”20 Moreover, the advent of social networking sites allows audiences to transcend physical barriers and watch television “together.” This new practice of watching television combines two elements, viewing and the real-time sharing of reactions and responses via the Internet, resulting in a pseudo-communal viewing experience.21 This negotiation of temporality is not a new aspect of television. The medium has always united audiences across space; however, technological advances disrupt the fixed temporal notion of time.
Numerous scholars have discussed the concept of “liveness” in relation to the existence and development of television and the communal television experience. Nick Couldry notes that liveness “is a category whose use naturalizes the general idea that, through the media, we achieve a shared attention to the ‘realities’ that matter for us as a society.”22 As such, liveness via live transmission connects viewers to shared social realities as they are occurring and helps to create realities that matter to viewers.23 Nevertheless, changes in television technologies have shifted the formulation of liveness. For instance, Graeme Turner postulates that while many deem liveness and sharedness essential to the experience of television, this attribute has been interrupted since the widespread ability for viewers to record and replay programs.24 Meanwhile, Chuck Tryon notes that these new technological practices can upset the social ritual of watching television; however, the “water cooler” status of television discussion persists largely due to social media tools such as Twitter and so-called “check-in” services such as GetGlue that encourage live viewing.25 Taken together, there is a general agreement that
liveness, in its most general sense of continuous connectedness, is hardly likely to disappear as a prized feature of contemporary media, because it is a category closely linked to media’s role in the temporal and spatial organization of the social world. The category “liveness” helps to shape the disposition to remain “connected” in all its forms, even though (as we have seen) the types of liveness are now pulling in different directions.26
Liveness is essential to the television and the communal television experience, but these newer, altered forms of liveness continue to be driven by significant technological change, including the high-speed streaming technology of Netflix.
Netflix programming, free from the confines of a weekly schedule, is the antithesis of the traditional sense of liveness and communal television. Not all audience members have responded to this novel form of distribution, however. Netflix’s model may represent the future of television. It may also lack the essential temporal regularity and subsequent sharedness that viewers have come to expect from their television experience. We are, in short, at a crossroads of sorts in terms of the social dynamics of television watching.
The concept of binge-watching is critical to the streaming model of television consumption. A 2013 Harris Interactive study found that “nearly 80 percent of US adults with Internet access watch TV through subscription on-demand services (like Netflix or Hulu), through cable on demand, or through a time-shifting device like a DVR. Sixty-two percent of people who watch TV whenever they feel like it will watch multiple episodes back to back.”27 Moreover, some argue that binge-watching is a kind of symptom of human evolution and anatomy. Richard Rosenthal, chairman of psychiatry at St. Luke’s–Roosevelt Hospital Center in New York, explains that “whether you’re deciding to watch ‘just one more’ episode of Breaking Bad or you’re throwing back ‘just one more’ tequila shot, a similar sequence is playing out in that particular part of the brain.”28 The release of dopamine in the brain, combined with easier access to full seasons of television programming is considered one explanation for the rise of binge-watching. Taken together, this data and physiological reasoning points to a continued growth in both the use of streaming services and this indulgent method of consumption.
Analysis of the entertainment site Vulture demonstrates the ways that audiences negotiate the unfamiliar binge-watching format. Like The A.V. Club, Vulture reviewers imposed a semi-regular release of their individual episode reviews of Orange Is the New Black, each one coming within three to five days of the previous episode recap. Commenters on this site were more open in voicing their feelings toward Netflix’s distribution strategy. The following selections are taken from the site’s first episode review.
Jarira: God damn this f*cking show for ruining my life. I had the best/worst bingefest this weekend. My eyes are burning but it was worth it.
typicaliowa: You recapping this show just made my week. I finished binge-watching the season on Monday and have been in withdrawal since then. I can’t wait to relive/dissect every episode!
Bookles: I thought the whole series was very well done. It was so well executed that I finally discovered a problem with Netflix’s all at once format. Now I have to wait until who knows when to see the next season. At least if it was traditional format the new season might already be filming. I guess I�
�ll have to re-watch until then.
These comments demonstrate the conflicted relationship viewers have with OITNB, or at least its distribution. While the audience seems to lament binge-watching, it is often in jest. The real complaint is generally that the series was so addictive that individuals felt compelled to continue watching, usually at the expense of their free time. The final comment is telling in that although the viewer liked the series, s/he feels that the traditional temporal patterns of a waiting for a new season had been heavily interrupted by the binge model.
Additionally, viewers had to create informal communal rules for spoilers and posting etiquette. These interactions, however, did not always go without conflict, as evidenced in these exchanges between two commenters, followed by a response from editor Gilbert Cruz:
misspam: Watch out for the spoilers. Not everybody’s seen the first episode. Are recaps really the thing for a watch-one-or-binge format?
im10ashus: @misspam43—So, they should wait for everyone to catch up before recapping? You do realize they recap a lot of shows here, right?
Gilbert Cruz: If you hadn’t seen the first episode, you wouldn’t have clicked on the article, though, right?