Right, we’re calling it: The world doesn’t need another tight eight-episode season of a series. And we especially don’t need another tighter-than-tight eight-episode season of a series that has, for reasons that remain utterly bewildering to everyone bar the producers and streaming platforms, been split into two volumes, released months apart. (We’re looking at you, Stranger Things and The Crown.)
What we need—even if we don’t know that we need it—is a sprawling mess of 20-plus episodes per season, ideally with a loose AF (because, c’mon, tight is never fun in the world of TV or post-holiday waistbands) overarching storyline. And let’s keep it primarily composed of one-shot wonders (that is, standalone episodes). Let’s lower the goddamn stakes a bit, so we can breathe.
Oh yes, we know: sacrilege. Won’t someone please think of the children! We’re living in a golden age of TV, and how dare we turn our noses up at all of those delightful treasures that are being dangled in front of us on a daily basis and yada yada yada? And here’s the thing: We’re not. Not really, anyway: We were every bit as invested in the likes of Hijack and Beef and You as all the rest of you were. And yet….
Well, sometimes it would be nice to be able to relax while watching a series, rather than panicking that we’re going to miss a teeny yet oh-so-significant detail in one of those every-second-counts episodes. Because, seriously, every second counts. There’s no time to even glance away, not even to suss out where the bowl of snacks is balanced on the sofa, because that’ll be when a metaphorical Easter egg will roll across the screen. Gah.
This burning desire for a little TV-induced R&R likely comes from the fact that we’ve been eyeball-deep in a nostalgia rut of late. (Yes, we’ve been streaming our favorite ’90s and ’00s series like nobody’s business. What of it?). And, honestly, almost all of these shows enjoy such lovely long season runs, which means that the stakes aren’t always the highest. In fact, you can usually get away with missing the odd episode if you fancy it, because the next episode will always give you a 30-second recap regardless—and maybe even a longer one, depending on how much shit has gone down.
It sounds like a recipe for disaster: Who has the time nowadays to invest in a 22-episode run of anything, especially when a good two-thirds of those episodes will be inconsequential in the big grand scheme of things? But, when you slow things down, you suddenly get major Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Doctor Who monster-of-the-week vibes. You get the deliciously lazy slow-burn love interests, à la Gilmore Girls. You get the chance to step away from the drama and get to know all of your favorite characters—and we mean really know them, right down to their hopes, and dreams, and coffee orders.
And wasn’t that part of the joy of, say, Frasier and Friends? That we could just take the time to rattle around their apartments with them, go on dates with them, sit and while away the hours in a bustling city cafe with them? That we could do the whole strangers-to-friends-to-lovers thing with them? Because that’s honestly what it felt like: that we were a genuine part of their lives, and that these characters were so much more than just TV constructs. They were (and sorry to get all parasocial about things) people we genuinely loved to spend time with each week.
That’s not to say that we aren’t fond of Eleven and Max & Co., and we’re 100 percent invested in the lives of Joel and Ellie. Of course we are: They’re amazing. But, y’know, it’s a different kind of love: The Last Of Us is essentially the televisual equivalent of moving in with someone after a few short weeks of dating due to shared trauma (the trauma in this case, of course, being a horde of fungus-zombies). Meanwhile, Stranger Things is like the affection you feel for that niece or nephew you see once or twice a year, when you coo over how much they’ve grown before leaping into your role as the Fun Aunt/Uncle, which usually involves getting them hyped up on candy, playing some intensely high-adrenaline games, and then leaving them (usually gently vibrating from that aforementioned sugar high) in the hands of their weary parents.
It all calls to mind a quote from (forgive us, but ’tis still kind of the season, we suppose) The Holiday—as in, yes, the festive romcom with Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet. In it, Eli Wallach’s retired screenwriter from the Golden Age of Hollywood laments the pressure that’s placed upon modern-day movie producers. “I counted,” he says at one point. “Nine movies opening today. I remember when nine movies used to open in a month. Now a picture has to make a killing the first weekend or it’s dead. This is supposed to be conducive to great work?”
Nowadays, we have streaming platforms coming out of our ears, and each one wants our undivided attention. Some 199 shows were canceled (or simply came to an untimely end) last year alone. There are countless new titles dropping each and every week. Is it any wonder, then, that nobody feels confident enough to slow things down? To hit the brakes, lower the stakes, and let their characters breathe? There’s just too much competition to be complacent.
Still, perhaps the fact that Grey’s Anatomy has been renewed for its twentieth season (despite the departure of Ellen Pompeo’s Meredith Grey) might go some way to change things. Perhaps the cult status of What We Do In The Shadows’ zany one-off episodes might remind TV bosses that, just sometimes, viewers can handle a standalone story or two. Perhaps Paramount+’s Frasier revival signals ... something. And perhaps the soft reboot of Doctor Who, with Russell T Davies back at the helm, might steer us all back to a time in which … well, in which Daleks can attack humanity one week, and Cybermen the next, and Cat People the week after that, and, oh we don’t know, walking-talking mannequins the week after, and barely anyone ever mentions the world-changing events of seven days prior. Please.
Grab a placard, then, and join us in our rallying chant: less stakes, more breaks! Less blink-and-you’ll-miss-it vibes, more enjoyable and fine-to-be-forgettable hijinks! Less “OMG what does that tiny almost imperceptible detail mean in the grand scheme of this miniseries?” and more joyful standalone episodes! Less drama, more character development! And, above all else, less time constraints, more installments—full stop!
C’mon, TV gods. Give the people what they want already.