Who wins between Netflix and the networks? The consumer.
Are you planning to cut the cord? Or will Netflix executives have to pry your beloved cable box from your cold, dead hands? From a content perspective, terrestrial (or traditional) television and streaming programs generally follow two distinct formats: Season as Bundle, and Episode as Bundle. Which is better? The answer isn’t clear. “We are in a flux right now with where things are going,” says Justin Kirkland, entertainment writer, “because there’s pros and cons to each one.”
Season as Bundle
The latest season of House of Cards debuted on Netflix last Friday (March 4). Inevitably, the Greater Washington area has called out of work and/or binged the entirety of the series in a 72-hour span, spamming Seamless with orders while wearing the same pair of yoga pants. Viewers devoured episode recaps, gushed over the many insane things Frank Underwood does, and searched for GIFs of [SPOILER] to share with their friends. This is a moment where Netflix is meeting viewers with the content and format they want, in the moment that they want it.
Some people won’t binge shows, no matter how they are released. Instead, they will consume content on their own terms, watching the show when it’s convenient to their schedule. This group is at the mercy of spoiler alerts, falling behind the water cooler conversation, or even just feeling over it. Kirkland says “I haven’t ever been able to dig into House of Cards. And I know that on March 4, I will live through a week of people freaking out about House of Cards and then it will be over.”
Episode as Bundle
On the other hand, take Scandal as an example of the opposite approach. Every week, fans tune into Shonda-land’s TGIT (For the uninitiated, TGIT is Shonda Rhimes’ slate of programs on “thank God it’s Thursday”), tweeting along with the cast and fans alike under the hashtag #ScandalABC. Fans connect with each other over each winding plot twist and monologue, creating a fever pitch of online conversation that Happens. Every. Week. Kirkland calls this “Twitter catharsis.” You can cope with the weekly drama by parsing through it with the Internet at your side. This approach was made for second screen viewing. Kirkland thinks this is the book club of the modern media age. You meet every week (on Twitter) to talk about the same book (weekly television program) you’re in the process of reading (watching). It’s inclusive. It’s fun. But is a weekly book club a realistic method for community outreach?
The pace of modern life doesn’t necessarily allow you to join in every week, and it’s this inflexibility that has led many to cry for the death of cable. Cord cutters love the convenience and options presented by streaming services, including Hulu, Amazon Prime, and Netflix, all convinced that these services are the way of the future.
There is an industry debate over who’s got it right. The television corporations think that Netflix is not much more than a fad, and Netflix shrugs them off while developing original programming, reviving beloved canceled shows, and maintaining a seemingly endless movie collection at your fingertips.
The truth is that neither one of them has discovered the perfect method for content creation and distribution. Even with two wildly different models, they’re both creating the same result.
Check out this comparison of Google search trends. First, we have a distribution of Netflix series launches over the course of a single, hypothetical month (which is feasible given Netflix’s newfound dedication to original content).
After you aggregate these series together, they begin to resemble that of your typical network TV shows (in this case, Scandal).
Looks pretty similar, right?
“Drip method” programs like Scandal, The Walking Dead, and The Bachelor peak with each episode, week after week, seizing viewers’ attention (and advertisers’ budgets). This approach creates ongoing opportunities to engage with the program, albeit over a series of diminishing returns (Scandal, for example, debuted its fourth season to 12 million viewers, and wrapped up the finale with just seven million).
Netflix, on the other hand, sees a huge bump and a short tail for an entire program season. Consider the amount of effort it takes to produce a full season of television, just to have it instantly consumed and disappear. The hidden benefit: these moments may create a bigger splash and get more people to pay attention. Even if the content isn’t that good, you have a short window to get people to watch it — all of it — and have the benefit of being able to participate in the elite office water cooler conversations when they talk about how Jessica Jones is freaking amazing (and terrifying, also definitely terrifying).
However, if viewers tune in after the initial binge, they’re left to experience the emotional shock of key plot points without the guiding hand of social media. There’s no instant Twitter catharsis to help you cope when (spoiler!) a certain Congressman pushes one dogged reporter in front of a train. While this makes a valid argument for terrestrial programming from a content creation and audience engagement standpoint, it also shows the importance of streaming in terms of what — and how much — audiences are willing to consume.
“Give your audience what they crave,” says Joshua Lasky, senior manager of digital trends and insights at Atlantic Media Strategies. “If they have an appetite for more content, you can create a drumbeat of bundled content that continues to keep followers engaged.”
From a content quality perspective, the challenge with binge television is that viewers may lose the nuance of some powerhouse performances. While I could probably watch several hours of The Bachelorette — the mental equivalent of eating an entire bag of potato chips — a program like Breaking Bad or Mad Men is designed for audiences to savor. This distinction poses a key question for publishers. What content are you creating, and what is the right tempo to consume it? What are you able to produce from a capacity perspective? Publishers have the benefit to determine the right schedule of moments and points of connection for their medium, content, and audience.
There’s no one right answer. It’s customized.
We’ve already seen this shift with podcasts. They come in every length imaginable, ranging from quickly digestible 5-minute downloads to in-depth, hour-plus formats. For television to succeed, it must evolve, and this means breaking the cycle of the 30-minute comedy/60-minute drama. It’s time for television to consider new, fresh formats for visual storytelling — cutting free from both the weekly format and the weekend-long binge.
Kirkland’s preference is watching the first 3–4 shows in a row, then watching 1–2 shows in a row over the next few weeks. Lasky recommends that television producers consider a season to be a series of small movies, à la Sherlock. I’m imagining a suggested television-watching schedule, provided directly by the content creators (e.g., first, watch the premiere episode by itself, then watch 2 and 3 together, then one at a time, etc.).
Television is not ending. It is evolving.
It’s yet to be seen whether terrestrial television can pivot away from its book club model to something more flexible, and whether Netflix can figure out how to create a more dedicated community around its shows. Because social media isn’t conducive to streaming television for the sake of avoiding spoilers, Kirkland says “streaming services [will make] us talk to each other again.” If we can’t experience Twitter catharsis, we need to process these moments by ourselves, and eventually come together for a personal connection.
He might be right. My mom sent me a text message this weekend that says it all.
The evolution of media is just one of the many things we think about for clients at Atlantic Media Strategies every day. Sign up for our weekly newsletter, the Digital Trends Index, and get in touch on Twitter.
