Stranger Things Tag

Three Shows I’m Glad I Couldn’t Binge-Watch

binge-watching

My name is Adrienne, and I’ve done my fair share of binge-watching over the past couple of years. I say that upfront so you know that I’m not opposed to the idea of sitting down and taking in the entire new season of a show over the course of a few nights or weeks. I’ve done it a lot. Stranger Things. 13 Reasons Why. Grace & Frankie. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Mozart in the Jungle.

 

And yet, I can’t help but wonder if the ability to binge-watch certain shows doesn’t restrict their potential to become true cultural phenomena. Shows like Grace & Frankie are perfect for binging: They’re light, they’re fun, and they’re easily digestible. But consider a show like Stranger Things. Yes, Netflix subscribers loved the show’s first season when it dropped, and it instantly became something people were talking about. A lot of people. But the talk didn’t really last that long. After a short spell, everybody had seen the whole season, and there wasn’t much left to talk about. The same thing happened when Season Two was released.

 

As big a hit as Stranger Things has been for Netflix, imagine how much bigger the show might have become had it been a serial show on ABC, NBC, or HBO. What if we had been asked to wait a week between each new episode, forced to spend that time trying to digest every little minute detail of what we saw. And talk about it. And theorize about it. And write fan blogs about it.

 

Even when people are talking about a hot show like Stranger Things or 13 Reasons Why (another one that everyone I knew seemed to be talking about for a brief time), the cultural effect is diluted by the fact that they’re not all talking about the same stuff at the same time. Everyone’s watching different episodes, having different reactions. There’s no, “OMG, can you believe what JUST happened?”

 

I quit watching Scandal a few years back, yet I couldn’t help but tune in to Twitter during the series finale that aired last week. It was fun to read people’s passionate responses in real time as the show was still going on. Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu bring a lot of great stuff to the table, but they can’t bring that shared, in-the-moment experience that truly ingrains a show in the public consciousness.

 

There’s just something to be said for making people wait. It can escalate a show from love to obsession. Just ask Game of Thrones and This Is Us fans.

As I ponder the binge-watching question, I can’t help but think of the three shows in my adult life with which I was truly and deeply obsessed: The X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Lost. I’m glad I wasn’t able to binge-watch these shows because I’m not sure my passion would have had the space it needed to grow. Oh, the hours wasted in between episodes, pondering plot points and character developments—especially with The X-Files and Lost, which are the exact kinds of shows that lend themselves to this type of passionate dissection.

 

Lost fans, probably more than any others, understand being caught up in the cultural obsession. If you watched the show when it originally ran, you no doubt remember the games ABC used to play in airing episodes. A few new ones, then several weeks of repeats. Extended off-seasons after yet another blow-your-mind cliffhanger. It drove us nuts—and drove our obsession. It felt like they were on that island forever, and we were stuck right there with them. I remember, the day after each new episode, hurrying over to Entertainment Weekly to read Jeff Jensen’s great fan blog and absorb his analysis of plot points, symbolism, etc.—then spending the rest of the week pondering what it all could mean.

 

Now, when I reflect on those shows, I can’t separate the show from the obsession that surrounded it. It’s all wrapped together in one loving package that takes me back to a specific time in my life. I just don’t see me ever having that same level of engagement for a show I can consume, in total seclusion, over the course of a weekend.

—Adrienne Maxwell

Adrienne Maxwell has been writing about the home theater industry for longer
than she’s willing to admit. She is currently the managing editor and video specialist
at HomeTheaterReview.com. Adrienne lives in Colorado, where she spends far too
much time looking at the Rockies and not nearly enough time being in them.

Everything Sucks!

Twenty years or so ago, enamored with movies and armed with a little bit of dangerous knowledge thanks to the burgeoning trend of audio commentaries and behind-the-scenes documentaries on DVD, I felt inspired to start writing my own movie. It was, without question, the most pop-culture referential thing that had ever existed in any form—at least until Ready Player One was published some decades later.

 

I realized something, though, after a few weeks of diligent work: These sorts of pop culture references only really work with the added benefit of nostalgia. And so, I let it die.

 

I rediscovered that forgotten screenplay a few years ago, and for a brief moment entertained the notion of starting work on it again. This time around, it died on the vine even quicker, mostly because I realized that nostalgia was the only thing it had going for it. It was all hook and no crane. A skyhook, in the parlance of philosopher Daniel Dennett.

Everything Sucks

I bring this up only because that screenplay weighed heavily in my mind as I watched Netflix’ new original series Everything Sucks!, the first episode of which is so burdened by its need to cram as many mid-90s references into 22 minutes that there really isn’t much else to talk about.

 

Mind you, one can hardly blame its creators for leaning on the crutch of nostalgia, given how well it’s worked for recent efforts like Stranger Things, another Netflix original. There’s a striking difference between the way these two series approach the decades being celebrated, though.

 

Stranger Things is an homage to the 1980s from top to bottom. It’s set in that decade because it sets out to capture the spirit of the movies ‘80s kids grew up with—in style, in substance, in tone, in subject matter. The series isn’t merely set in the 1980s–it’s a passionate and masterfully crafted love letter to that decade, aesthetically, thematically, and narratively.

 

The first episode of Everything Sucks!, on the other hand, is a hastily scribbled note that reads: “Dear 1996, I like you do you like me? Check yes or no.” Musical hits of the decade are thrown at the screen as if pulled from a Best of the 1990s compilation CD at random, in ways that often contradict the onscreen action, lyrically and thematically.

 

And not in an ironic way, either. More in a completely haphazard and careless way. The only conclusion to be drawn is that if any care went into crafting the show’s soundtrack, it was purely to make the viewer sit up and say, “I remember that song!”

 

And so it goes with everything else about the show’s setting. Everything from its soundtrack to its costumes, its winky nods to beepers and dial-up internet, serves not to reinforce some overarching theme but rather to distract from the story being told. Honestly, if Everything Sucks! were broadcast on a traditional network, it would have been canceled before the second commercial break. And I’m honestly not sure why I watched past that point. Hate-binging, perhaps? Is that a thing?

Everything Sucks

Actually, I take that back. I know exactly why I kept watching. Because for all its faults early on, Everything Sucks! has something going for it no other show—on the airwaves or streaming—has right now: Peyton Kennedy, the show’s 13-year-old female lead. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, this child would elevate a pharmaceutical commercial to the level of fine art. She does more with the twitch of an eyebrow or a sidelong glance than most actors three times her age could ever do with a Shakespearean monologue. And had Everything Sucks! continued to plod along with its hollow, pointless ‘90s references for the duration of its 10-episode run, I would have continued my hate-binge just to revel in this little girl’s truly breathtaking talent.

 

A funny thing happens somewhere near the middle of Everything Sucks! brief first season, though. The show eventually starts to get good. Like, genuinely good. Rather than a cheeky vehicle for shallow nostalgia, it becomes an honest-to-goodness coming-of-age story. And it even manages at one point to truly capture the spirit of ‘90s entertainment by way of a montage that could have come straight out of a Deborah Kaplan movie. Oddly, though, the show is at its best when it forgets it’s set in the 1990s at all.

 

It strikes me as oh so very meta that a series about the awkward, gangly, fumbling search for self takes so long to find itself in such an awkward, gangly, fumbling way. That makes it sort of hard to recommend, no matter how much I liked it in the end.

 

If anything, Everything Sucks! has given me new inspiration to dust off that old screenplay again and give it another gobut this time with an eye toward capturing the real human story about what I was going through in life at the time, and what I was trying to escape by diving so heavily into cinema as I did.

 

I just wish Everything Sucks! had learned that same lesson a lot earlier in its development.

—Dennis Burger

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast
who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including
high-end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of
Alabama with his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound
American Staffordshire Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.