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Microdramas are fuelling exploitation in the entertainment industry

The booming world of rapid, vertical mini dramas has generated a multi-million dollar mobile entertainment industry. It’s also fuelled worker exploitation, low wages, and suffocating schedules. 

Is TV getting dumber? In today’s post-literate society – an era Rose Horowitch deftly explores in a recent piece for The Atlantic – how we entertain ourselves is a hot topic.

From the second-screen problem to the rise of AI-generated content, the general consensus is that yes, the things we consume have become less intellectually stimulating.

No medium reflects this shift quite like the micro-drama. These bite-sized videos have flooded social media over the past few years, having first taken off in China. Thanks to their tiny budgets and even tinier production timelines, the vertical drama (named for its 9×16 dimensions designed to be watched on a phone) has become very big business.

These short series usually focus on melodramatic love stories directed at a YA audience. They feature self-explanatory plots and acting that – to put it mildly – is far from moving.

But the micro-drama does what it says on the tin. The videos are designed to be half-watched while viewers multitask. Perhaps they fly through multiple minute-long episodes whilst cleaning the house or cooking dinner. Micro-dramas also make for great background noise when working from home.

As Adrian Horton explored, micro-dramas have found their success in emulating the biggest studio dramas – shows like The Summer I Turned Pretty, and Off Campus – only they’re smaller in every sense. This might mean poorer acting and shoddy production, and far from fleshed out narrative beats. But it also promises viewers the kind of entertainment you can – quite literally – watch with your eyes closed.

Until recently I’d have argued that watching TV or scrolling on social media was a brainless task. Onscreen entertainment was invented to provide the kind of relaxed, effortless watching that one seeks to escape the mental strains of daily life. Now, the micro-drama is proving that even staring at a movie or series requires effort – and in our short-form world, that effort is something to be circumvented.

Each 60-90 second episode ends on a juicy cliffhanger, making optimal viewing for anyone with a microsized attention span.

Depressing? Perhaps. Horowitch speaks at length about what the degradation of our attention spans means for society as a whole. It will, she argues, fundamentally change the way we think, what our politics look like, and how we interact with one another. But for now, micro-dramas are bringing in billions of dollars. For Hollywood executives, that is.

In just three years, revenue for serialized short-form dramas in China rose from $500m in 2021 to $7bn in 2024. It was only a matter of time before producers in the US caught on.

‘It’s the first inning’, said Bill Block, the former CEO of Miramax whose new microdrama venture GammaTime has raised over $14m from such investors as Kim Kardashian, Kris Jenner and Reddit co-founder Alexis Ohanian.

But for the individuals working on these vertical series, the tight timelines and miniscule budgets mean microdramas are a hotbed for exploitation.

Writers have shared stories of shockingly low pay and questionable contracts, and thanks to non-unionised production, the guardrails usually provided for entertainment casts and crew are largely done away with.

The rapid turnarounds and high volume of episodes that make up a microdrama require high quantities of work – be it scripts or acted scenes. And while quality may be secondary in many cases, that doesn’t change the fact that actors and writers are expected to churn out work with very little financial gain.

It’s a slap in the face for burgeoning actors looking to establish their careers, especially when microdramas bank on their viewers not actually watching them properly. Even self-confessed microdrama addicts have admitted they’d find it hard to sit through the poorly developed plotlines if they had their full attention.

The industry has found a way to turn the economics of short-form content into an excuse for making the people who produce it work faster, for less.

The appeal for producers is obvious. Micro-dramas can be made quickly, tested cheaply and distributed directly to millions of phones. If one fails, another can take its place. The model depends on volume, but volume depends on workers who can keep producing at speed

Ultimately, the microdrama book points to a bigger problem. It’s not simply that audiences are becoming accustomed to thinner plots or bitesize content – but that an entertainment economy built around our diminishing attention spans may also diminish what we are willing to pay for the labour behind entertainment.

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