Is Netflix Changing The Structure of Scripted Television?

After watching Daredevil, I couldn't shake the feeling there was something unusual about the series. I thought the casting was fabulous, stylistically it was beautiful, but it was.... different. 

Then I realized it was the unusual narrative structure that had caught my attention. Daredevil felt more like a miniseries, despite the thirteen-episode order. Episodic television on a traditional network relies more on standalone elements. Sure, there are storylines that traverse an entire season, but a lot of other mini narrative arcs are happening within the framework. 

In Daredevil, these elements were kept to a minimum. Not because the material is sourced from a comic book (as some might argue) but I'm presuming here, because this is a stylistic storytelling choice: the program is written specifically for the Netflix format. Audiences were never expected/required to wait a week between episodes. 

In audience's minds, a week is quite a long time for fresh fodder and it's possible this is how intricate, multilayered television became synonymous with success: a need for closure (in regards to subplots) ensured audiences continued to tune in. Now there is no need to wait, and the story flows on from the point the last episode left off.

Another recent Netflix offering, Being Kimmy Schmidt, left me with a similar impression. The show didn't feel exactly like a traditional sitcom. Requisite elements were there, but structurally there was a shift. And once again, the storytelling experience was immediate and ongoing, the first season merging into (potentially) one complete viewing experience.

While it can be argued there are other earlier examples of this practice as an emerging storytelling trend for TV-style shows, I think Netflix's hit offerings are true indicators that demand demarcation of the practice as commercially successful/viable: conscious, confident stylistic choices deliberately adopted and presented by an ever-growing platform. Sure, they're trying a lot of different programs out for size this year, but at present the type of storytelling structure I've referenced seems a recurring thread through their latest successes.

Prior to this the most notable TV-related trend was the rise in popularity of HBO programming. HBO shows were imbued with filmic traits perceived by audiences as measures of "quality". In a sense, their shows chewed up and spat out the idea scripted television was a lesser medium than cinema by imbuing "small" screen offerings with "big" screen elements. Jumpstarting a tired format forced the medium to experience an evolutionary jump. But rather than moving toward the expected web-style brevity, their shows were longer and in most cases more complex than scripted television of the time. People were brought up on the idea you paid for cinema because it was better, and HBO cleverly utilized this ingrained belief.

There's no denying changes in technology and available mediums have resulted in experiments in format, and online series have become a medium all their own. The idea of the web series, for example, is in a constant state of flux and experimentation. Definitely a medium of the future, but at this point it can be argued one that hasn't yet evolved in a practical business sense to hold as large a share of the market (monetarily) as it presumably will. (At present more traditional television networks often produce webisodes as adjuncts to their television programs, like an advanced form of a promotional tool for an existing series, rather than as standalone products.)

One of the most interesting web series (in the sense it stuck in my mind) was H+. Possibly because before this I had always equated a web series with a low budget. Theoretically the short episodes should have appealed, but the glossy quality and the extremely short episodic structure seemed to confuse people more than anything else. Interesting to note viewers had network-specific expectations of the project: rather than flocking to a program that offered traditionally more filmic elements in a web series medium, the general public seemed stumped by the entertainment experiment. "It felt like HBO, but it kept stopping and starting." (Perhaps because in a storytelling sense the narrative felt divided between episodes, an approach not quite in sync with storytelling trends at that point?)

At present, the style of scripted television Netflix is tweaking is clearly the next stage in an ever-changing viewing process. DVDs and the downloading of a series's entire back catalogue gave audiences a taste for a total experience of a TV program, but still, fans had to wait for each single episode to screen through the traditional medium first. Now even that stepping stone is bypassed.

Which begs the question; will scripted network television follow the one-season-one-unit trend? With NBC offering all 13 episodes of Duchovny's new program Aquarius after the screening of the pilot, signs are starting to point to yes. Transitioning to the offer of a series experience as a single unit boasting immediate availability is a nod to changing expectations and viewing habits, if not preferences. 

Instant gratification has become a huge part of the online experience (across a number of entertainment forms). Scripted entertainment is slowly moving toward both recognition of this and the subsequent development, and adoption, of marketing approaches that will address these expectations. (On a side note, the term of the moment is "binge-watching" but to be honest I think the idea is already dating. Binge implies gorging to excess, but only within the framework of one hour viewing as the accepted norm, an idea that's slowly but surely on its way out.)

The evolution of small screen storytelling—whether that's a TV screen, laptop or smartphone—is extremely interesting to monitor (ha) in today's world.

Watching Comic-Based TV Shows When You Haven't Read The Comics

Writers of a television show adapted from a comic are writing for two very different audiences: avid fans of an already existing narrative, and those who've never read the comics and therefore need to be introduced to each element of the story.

Writing about comic-based television shows online while declaring a complete ignorance of the source material feels somewhat risque. Critiquing comic-based shows is often viewed as the domain of comic book fans. But as an aspiring tv writer and avid consumer of scripted television, I think my opinion is just as relevant, especially when you take into account the companies screening such programs are hoping to secure more than a niche audience.

I've thought about this topic a lot following the release of Daredevil and the subsequent tweets and posts in my social media feed. For me, Daredevil had a great freshman season. The series has a confident style (I think establishing a visual/editorial style is a key element of success on tv these days, but that's another blog). The script was strong, free from chunks of clumsy exposition, and the acting was high calibre. Yet I didn't find it groundbreaking or magnificent, like so many comic fans claimed. 

Scanning the reaction of comic fans to comic-based television shows seems to be a lesson in extremes, a rollercoaster ride of highs and lows. Often when they're onboard it's in the form of overzealous praise. Good doesn't really exist; everything about the show becomes magnificent, incredible, unbelievable. On the other hand, disappoint them with your television interpretation of an adored character and the criticism can be scathing: no redeeming qualities acknowledged.

Trying to discuss a program by putting forward a mix of positive and negative reactions to different elements of the production can become tedious, and prove nigh on impossible. (Also because source material is so often cited in conversation, which means nothing to a viewer who draws a distinct line between the two mediums.) I haven't read any of the comics that provide the inspiration for the television programs I'm watching. Experiencing the story only in a television format made me understand how vast the gap between the uninformed viewer and the informed viewer can become.

You might argue films and television series' adapted from books are in a similar boat, but generally they don't seem to incite the same level of extreme reactions you encounter when discussing comic adaptations.

On watching The Vampire Diaries, my first reaction was apathy bordering on dislike for the lead character Elena, apparently a reworked version of the Elena found in the original novel. (I think the dreaded "relatable female character" trope came into play—another blog for another day!) I didn't feel compelled to read the books because watching the show as a separate entity has become more standard procedure for book-to-tv transformations.

Looking back, I experienced the same comic fan/non-comic fan conundrum when Arrow hit the small screen. The show was entertaining, beautifully done, and I loved Stephen Amell in the lead role. But many fans focused solely on disparate elements between the comics and the small screen: how his character was costumed differently, and his kill count. Commenting on the television show as a stand-alone experience wasn't really welcome online.

In a way, I felt like I wasn't part of the fan base for the show because I couldn't discuss what happened in Issue Whatever of the comics compared to what was unfolding on the small screen. On the other hand, becoming a hit series involves turning casual viewers into avid fans, separate to the comic-saturated portion of the fan base. It's the only way to pull big ratings, meaning my feedback was just as valid/of worth, even if it didn't feel that way.

The Flash is another example. Grant Gustin is brilliantly cast, as are most of the supporting roles. I think the show itself skews younger than Arrow, and I think it works. The series has heart, and an earnest sort of youthful optimism. The concept of the mentor is also a big theme. The Flash has it's own definitive style that comes together to create an entertaining hour of television. Still, a lot of online conversation stayed focused on the discrepancies between the comics and the small screen interpretation.

My only issue with both programs is the representation of women, problematic at best. Don't get me wrong, characters like Felicity and Caitlin are great, but the love interests our leads pine for from the pilot feel like forced plot points, becoming the program's weakest elements.

I sometimes wonder if this is because it's part of a comic trope from earlier years that isn't sitting as well in modern television? I'm not versed enough in the origin stories to say. But every time someone talks about "protecting" Iris on The Flash, I can't help wincing. 

My core issue, though, is the inference Laurel and Iris are more sexually desirable than Felicity and Caitlin. You can't cast beautiful, slender actresses to play women who are geniuses, each with a successful, complex career, not to mention a great sense of humor (also styled gorgeously btw) and then write narrative that implies Felicity and Caitlin are obviously not as attractive/desirable in the eyes of the modern world as Laurel and Iris. Considering higher IQs seem to be the only real differences (to me as an audience member), between Felicity and Laurel, and Caitlin and Iris, I find the implied subliminal messages here quite disturbing.

Obviously over time the scripts are working—episode by episode—to change these dynamics and give us more rounded female leads, but I would say definitely at the cost of initial retention in audience numbers (especially those early days of Arrow). I didn't get the same impression from Daredevil. I really like the multifaceted female characters on that show from the outset. 

I've since been told Daredevil is by Marvel, and Arrow and Flash are from DC. Once again, this aspect of their origins hadn't occurred to me, but it probably should come into consideration. I thought perhaps the fact two of the shows were on CW and the other on a different television format, explained part of the differences. Who can say?

Which brings me to Marvel's Agent Carter. This nearly slipped under my radar, and what a loss that would have been. The program didn't have the fanboy support shown for The Flash and Arrow. Someone whose opinion I trust recommended it, saying I would enjoy the series. I'd read it was about Captain America's girlfriend, and a girlfriend-of-a-superhero focused show sounded like a terrible idea.

Next I saw online that the series was set in the past. I remember thinking, who is going to watch this?! Eventually I checked it out and found the show to be absolutely fascinating. (But more on that later.)

Part of what makes the series so interesting, from a cultural perspective, is the way the show stacked the odds against itself. With no superhero lead, comic fan hype was low. But non-comic fans were staying away too, assuming the series was a kind of superhero thing. At the time, calling the show Marvel's Agent Carter probably seemed like an obvious positive, but in retrospect, I'd consider it a misstep, alienating the program from audiences who would have appreciated it the most: those unfamiliar with its comic roots, but appreciative of television with complex themes.

Basically, Marvel's Agent Carter fell through marketing gaps left, right, and center before the pilot screened. When I watched the episode, I noted the stylized look. The series came across like an old-fashioned television show, in terms of angles and lighting. Even the editing seemed slower paced (although I could be wrong). An entirely different aesthetic. Beautiful, yes, but not really on trend.

Then I realized it was on trend, stylistically, when lined up next to a show like Mad Men. It just wasn't being compared to that, it was being compared to Arrow. Fans who would appreciate the wit and intelligence at work in the scripts weren't watching because they didn't consider themselves part of the target audience. 

And then you ran into other problems. Peggy Carter was a feminist who loved glamor (always wearing lipstick), but wasn't hyper-sexualized. In the modern day, we're not sure if this is an iconic female hero. But Carter is much more complex and interesting than most women who've appeared in comic-related fare; Hayley Atwell's portrayal of the under-utilized agent hits the mark (and then some), making this by far my favorite of all the television shows linked to either the DC or Marvel comic universes.

(On a side note, seeing the openly sexist society of the post WWII workplace on Marvel's Agent Carter was sobering, partly because so many women have experienced echoes of such attitudes in the modern day. The show is an unsettling multifaceted mirror, reflecting both how far we've come, and how far we have to go.)

I'm not sure if the series is based on certain comics. No idea if Peggy has her own comics or is a side character referenced in other characters' adventures. I don't need to know because I enjoyed the series as-is. (I haven't seen the first Captain America film, so I had no idea who Carter was.)

Maybe that's the point. Maybe the idea that comics provide a ready made fan base for television outings is only true to a certain point. As television shows with a link to comic-based narratives step further away from accepted traditional narrative forms and explore the opportunities a different medium provides, so must marketing adapt to bring a different kind of audience into the fold. 

Comic-based television shows don't just belong to fans of comics: those discovering new heroes and inspirations are just as welcome audience members, even if, occasionally, it really doesn't feel that way. 

In summary, the current comic-to-television model is a strange one, relying on a difficult fusion of established fans of another medium and new fans completely unfamiliar with said medium. This also means offerings working outside a (roughly) standardized structure, no matter how entertaining, are at this point in time invariably doomed to slip through the cracks, which is a great pity. Hopefully, in the future, the dynamic will change.*

*Note: I haven't referenced Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Constantine in this post, as I barely made it through the pilots. I've yet to watch Gotham. It will be interesting to see if Gotham, also working outside the standard superhero format, suffers for it. Hopefully it will be another step in breaking the mold. (Also worth noting, this blog only addresses recent television productions sourced from comic material, and not classic examples of small screen superhero outings.)