Noel: So Scott, we're about a week away from the re-starts of The Shield and The Sopranos, and once they première, fans can count on seeing new episodes every week until the respective season finales. Not only that, but if fans miss the initial airing of those episodes, they'll have other chances to catch up throughout the week. Meanwhile, fans of Heroes are drumming their fingers, waiting for a show that was hotter than Arkansas asphalt a couple of weeks ago to come back and tell us how this year's story ends. And those who enjoy The Amazing Race—many of whom missed the last two weeks' worth of episodes because of NCAA basketball run-over—have had to rely on TV blog recaps to fill in the gaps.
Media-wise, we're clearly living through an age of transition. Record stores—and CD sales—are on the wane, while digital downloads are up. The Amazon UnBox and Apple TV have just been unveiled, both promising to move us away from watching blurry, buffering videos on our computers, and toward watching pristine, legal copies of recent Hollywood hits on our HDTVs. And Hollywood itself, without bothering to alert all those entertainment magazines and trade publications that spend months putting together "Summer Movie Preview" issues, has apparently decided that the new blockbuster event calendar is year-round. A year ago, a studio opening a Will Ferrell comedy like Blades Of Glory on the last weekend of March would've been showing a lack of confidence in the film's chances. Now, after the success of Norbit, Wild Hogs, Ghost Rider, and 300, it just looks like smart business: See an open Friday and fill it.
When it comes to the major TV networks, though, change has been coming slowly. They've just begun to realize the Internet's power to increase a show's fan base, thanks largely to iTunes-fueled hits like The Office. Yet even with multiple cable subsidiaries to partner with for repeat airings and cross-promotion, the networks largely remain locked into 24-episode seasons that run from September to May, with each episode airing once a week, followed by an often-illogical repeat schedule during non-sweeps months.
Now, I grew up with the old model of American TV scheduling, and I still find some charm in it. But before I rise to its defense, let's beat it up some more. Scott, should the networks move to the cable model of three-month seasons, which are often fully scripted and shot before the first episode airs? Or maybe even the British model of six-episode "series," sometimes separated by a year or more? Would TV be better if it were scarcer and more tightly planned?
Scott: My answer to every one of your questions is "depends," but before I get into what sorts of shows might work better in six- or 12- or 22-episode seasons, I'll say that without question, the old model for major network TV shows has grown antiquated. We live in a TiVo world now, where DVRs, online videos from iTunes and network sites, and OnDemand have made traditional scheduling largely irrelevant to the tech-savvy consumer. Simply put, we want what we want when we want it, and it matters less and less when a show appears on the schedule, because that isn't necessarily when we're going to watch it anyway. Unless it's a live event, like sports, there's no reason for viewers to plant themselves on the couch at 8 p.m. and watch their favorite show as it unspools. Of course, that prospect has always been alarming to advertisers, who would prefer we not skip past their commercials, but the advent of DVRs and online video has been nirvana for couch potatoes such as ourselves, who can watch substantially more television in substantially less time. For networks, I think that means greater flexibility is essential as television moves forward and viewers continue to enjoy more power in dictating the terms of how they watch it.
As for how to shake up the old model, that's a much more nuanced question. I'm not a television executive, so I can't speak to the economics of going with six- or 12-episode runs instead of the traditional two dozen, but I'm guessing that networks rely on hit shows to become part of viewers' weekly routines. If Thursday is Must-See Comedy night on NBC, then an abbreviated run just won't do the trick, because you need 22 episodes to keep the balls in the air—either that, or a much greater arsenal of quality sitcoms waiting to fill those slots. And I seriously doubt such a thing is possible. Unlike cable channels, which can get away with showing movies or repeats in the endless hours between new episodes, the major networks have to turn out original programming far more frequently. An outlet like Bravo can basically turn into the Project Runway Channel for a day (or a week), but can you imagine NBC filling 12 hours with back-to-back Deal Or No Deal reruns?
But let me pretend for a minute that I'm completely oblivious to how networks operate—which wouldn't be that far from the truth anyway—and could dictate what I'd want in a perfect world. For network dramas, especially serialized shows like Lost or even Heroes, I'd argue for fewer episodes and finite runs, something closer to the cable model of The Shield, The Sopranos, and The Wire. When a show like Lost becomes a hit and it's unclear when the run will come to an end, it puts the writers in the impossible position of having to keep the show moving forward without knowing when the third act is coming, much less how they're going to get there. For Lost, the solution has been to add more elements to its ever-more-cryptic mythology, which has confused and frustrated a lot of its supporters. And that condition has been exacerbated by Lost's monthlong breaks, which occasionally come between episodes. (For that reason alone, I've heard many people testify that Lost's second season plays much better on DVD than it did when it originally aired.) And as much as I'd credit Heroes for plotting a long run more effectively—though, granted, we're still in season one here—there's little doubt in my mind that the show would be far more purposeful and exciting were it tightened to 12 episodes instead of spread out over eight months.
And yet, at times, the old model works just fine. A perfect example for me is The Office. In terms of quality, I find the difference between the British and American versions to be more or less negligible. Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant created a perfect show, beautifully conceived and executed at every turn, and the whole thing wrapped up in two six-episode "series" and a special. In spite of having to turn out 22 episodes a season, the improbably good American version hasn't dipped much in quality, and the extra time has allowed for a more expansive cast of characters that I wouldn't want to live without. (To quote Michael Scott: "You think Stanleys grow on trees? Well, they don't. There is no Stanley tree.") For half-hour comedies especially, there's something to be said for the traditional long season, because it simply means more good television, and who's to argue with that? In The Office, certain ongoing storylines, like the "Jim and Pam" non-romance, advance over the course of a season, but those developments can inch forward slowly without anyone getting restless. All that's really required of a half-hour comedy is that it be funny week after week. So in that respect, I'm more grateful to the American version for simply providing more entertainment than the abbreviated British run.
I know it's easy to bash these lumbering network warhorses for being woefully out of touch. But is there an argument to be made for the old way of doing things?
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