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Binging TV has changed how we consume stories

Binge watching shows in one sitting is upping the overall quality of our TV shows; but is it dulling the overall user experience?

As streaming services such as Netflix and Amazon have crept into our lives, slowly coming to dominate our viewing experience, many of us have found that our viewing habits have completely transformed. A high-quality drama that was once drip fed to us weekly is now consumed in one or two sittings. Netflix watches us gobble its content with a cold fascination, like scientists watching caged mice gobbling heroin laced cheddar, trying to work out how to keep us glued to our screens for longer.

A 2016 Netflix survey reported that about 61% of its users admitted to binge-watching television on a regular basis, with the majority of responders defining ‘binging’ as watching between two and six episodes in a single sitting (to be honest I see that as a fairly conservative estimate, but to each their own). Clunky TV sets from the 90s have become sleek tablets and laptops, with the internet now being the default vehicle for content consumption. With companies like Disney and Warner Brothers putting plans in the works to create streaming platforms on their own, it looks like the trend of releasing whole series’ at once will become the norm.

Whilst multiple cashed-up corporations trying to ‘win’ the streaming game has inevitably led to an upsurge in quality TV, there are some benefits to the old-world serialised distribution method that streaming is slowly sapping away. Instant TV means that viewing has become a solipsistic process. We’ve become more concerned with ‘binge-racing’ to avoid spoilers than having meaningful discussion about the themes and impacts of our favourite shows.

If 2019s viewership ratings are anything to go by, it looks like we shouldn’t discount network TV storytelling just yet.

 

Why we binge

Netflix, destroyer of productivity and the lazy Sunday’s best friend since time immemorial, has come a long way from its humble beginnings as a DVD lending service. The company, reportedly born out of CEO Reed Hastings’ frustration with late fees from rental stores, has led the charge of online television ever since it added streaming capabilities back in 2007.

Since then it’s amassed a whopping 167 million subscribers – and that’s probably nothing compared to how many people actually watch Netflix content (anyone who’s currently mooching off someone else’s account please raise your hand…). Ever since Netflix broke from convention by releasing all episodes of House of Cards season one on the one day in 2013, taking the frankly remarkable gamble that people were ready for a seismic disruption in their viewing habits, it’s hard to remember a time when we had to wait for content.

It isn’t hard to see why we adapted so quickly to the autonomy of streaming. The subscription-based nature of the platform removes the frustration of ad breaks. Not only does this prevent unwelcome interruptions that shatter a viewer’s suspension of disbelief by abruptly throwing them out of meticulously crafted worlds, it also changes the way stories are told.

There’s no longer a need to force act-breaking cliff handers between breaks, which often sit uncomfortably within the narrative, to ensure that viewers will continue watching. The serialised yet instant nature of the Netflix original means that it can rely more on subtlety, as plot points exist in the short-term rather than the long-term memory.

As stated in an interview with Den of Geek, Hastings has argued that Netflix is ‘just a learning machine. Every time we put out a new show, we are analysing it, figuring out what worked and what didn’t, so we get better next time’. The result of this mechanical learning has been a stream of immersive, multi-layered dramas released by Netflix tailored to audience desires.

Recently, Netflix’s devotion to data analysis has seen them produce a study that details how long it takes to get hooked on specific shows. In an analysis of shows like Breaking Bad and Arrow, anywhere between one and eight episodes need to be watched before viewers see the series out to its end. Interestingly, in a crushing blow to Network TV programme packages, not a single show’s hook point was during its pilot. This essentially offers a massive slice of justification pie for the way in which streaming platforms like Netflix and Amazon roll out their shows. Theoretically, it’s the only way to snare a fan’s dedication.

Advocates of the binge are celebrating the new instantaneous satisfaction of the one-day release as the end of many television irritants. Gone are the days of long ‘previously on’ sections that give away large sections of the plot (oh, they’re showing us that shop clerk from episode 3, I guess he’s the killer), and gone are the days where sitcoms must rely on temporally disconnected narratives to bring characters together.

So, if everyone is loving the instantaneous format, then it stands to reason that the biggest shows of 2019 so far probably live in this camp. Not so! In the UK, the biggest shows of the year so far have been Game of Thrones, Line of Duty, and Fleabag. What did all these series have in common? They were traditional network dramas released on a weekly basis.

A spanner has entered the works.

Too much of a good thing

Now, I don’t wish to come across sanctimonious here. I devour every series I watch with the rapturous gluttony of a kid on Halloween. If left to my own childish devices, there’s every chance I would’ve sped through the recent seasons of Fleabag and GoT in a day or two.

Unfortunately, myself and the rest of the UK were held back from devouring our three most watched shows by the stern, matronly scheduling of network television. And, as a result, it’s likely that we took a lot more from our viewing experiences.

According to new research from the University of Melbourne, binge-watching greatly diminishes the enjoyment of experiencing a show. Study participants were divided into three groups to watch BBC Cold War drama The Game; one watched weekly, one daily, and one all in a single sitting. Reportedly, the binge-watchers enjoyed the program ‘significantly less’ than the other two groups. Those who watched the show daily apparently reported the greatest amount of enjoyment.

When you think about it, there are a lot of reasons why the ability to ruminate on a story could benefit your understanding and appreciation of it. Being made to wait seven days before the next instalment of a franchise is the reason why every detail of Game of Thrones was able to be meticulously analysed, and why fans could properly appreciate the nuanced lore than had gone into the world and character building (seasons 5-8 notwithstanding).

The sense of television as a communal rather than an individual experience is also something that fades into the background with streaming. As nobody can keep pace with anybody else’s viewing habits, spoiler phobia has been amplified, and it’s no longer clear when you can start discussing major plot twists with your family or friends.

Personally, my favourite part of the Line of Duty viewing experience this year was being able to debate ad nauseum with my mother as to whether Lisa McQueen was actually a member of the OCG, or whether she was a cop deep undercover. This would’ve never happened had all the episodes been available at once, as there’s no way we’d both be able to resist the temptation of selfishly indulging in a bingey betrayal.

Line of Duty, Fleabag, and GoT had such large cultural impacts because significant events were allowed to disseminate throughout pop culture and could thus be digested, discussed, and chewed over. We were able to truly consider whether Fleabag really should end up with the hot priest, and we could incorporate other people’s opinions and insights into our conceptualising. And (spoilers) when they finally did snog, we were all able to go through the full spectrum of emotions regarding the event – celebration at the sheer satisfaction of the moment, hesitation, and then mournfulness at the sign that Fleabag would perhaps never escape the habit of viewing herself only as a sexualised object.

Moreover, it’s obvious to basically everyone whose ever binged a whole show in earnest that, whilst it feels great at the time, it’s absolutely terrible for your memory retention. Shows that I watched in one sitting have gone in one ear and out the other – a transitory enjoyment that I only ever associate with lazy Sunday’s sat on the couch spilling too much humus over myself to justify not getting up. In contrast, shows that I watched over a long period of time could come to characterise a whole era of my life – the summer I first discovered Breaking Bad, and the winter I watched The Handmaid’s Tale whilst reading Simone De Beauvoir (bougie I know).

My understanding of what I consumed wasn’t diminished by increased personal context but enhanced and supplemented by it. I was able to ruminate on snap decisions I’d made regarding character motivations, and to develop empathy I might not have accessed ‘in the moment’. I could tell you moments during the weeks I watched The Handmaid’s Tale when I (hyperbolically) sympathised with the frustrations of the women in Gilead and their constant fight against the male oppressor, but I honestly could not tell you a single thing that happened during Stranger Things season 2. The only thing that brilliant show left me with was a vague 80s nostalgia and that theme tune stuck in my head (doo-da-doo-doo…).

The very nature of binge-watching means that the conversation around shows becomes fragmented, and this isn’t good for the story. As anyone whose ever attended a book club knows, or indeed anyone who ever paid attention in English class, your enjoyment of a book can be enhanced tenfold by investigating and discussing it. Television is no different, and it begs the question: what’s the point of streaming increasing the quality of television shows if we’re not able to properly enjoy them?

What next?

With streaming, the internet has managed to engineer a television landscape in its own image. Netflix and the like have offered a genuine challenge to the status quo through its systematic dismantling of the everyday frustrations with network TV.

It’s certain that these platforms will continue to innovate and create amazing content, responding to the market all the while. But, personally, I’m not in the camp that believes streaming will come to completely supersede network serialisation. Humans are communal creatures – it’s in our nature to share experiences. The ability to come together as a family, friendship group, or nation and watch with collectively baited breath as we see predictions and hopes from the preceding week fulfilled or dashed, yell together at our screens when characters make bad decisions, and groan in unison when an episode ends in a cliff-hanger, creates a cultural conversation that’s often more important than the content itself.

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