Netflix’s existential dilemma: What am I?
Streaming giant seems more intent on making attention-grabbing announcements than good TV
Netflix is well on its way to having it all.
In its quest to replace the old means of watching TV and going to the movies, the streaming behemoth with 100 million (and counting) worldwide subscribers seeks to offer at least one of every sort of show a viewer might like, pushing toward a goal of 50-per-cent original programming. The pace and budget size are impressive (a reported $6 billion spent in the last year making its own stuff ).
But Netflix is still lacking one vital and admittedly ineffable thing, which goes by many names: Sensibility. Esthetic. Identity.
Its story started out as one of revolution, which has instead been overtaken by a case of quantity over quality. Now, rather than being known for a house style or a tastemaking effect on popular culture, it is becoming known for its raw desire to win the race, bragging about its latest deals (Shonda Rhimes! David Letterman!) and conquests.
Even amid this peak-TV chaos of its own making, Netflix has capably delivered prestige dramas that gather sterling reviews and multiple Emmy nominations (its total nods this year are second only to HBO); but that’s the same Netflix that recently released shows that could have used a little more time in the development incubator, such as this summer’s overly frantic conman/family-man saga Ozark, and this spring’s contextually haphazard 13 Reasons Why.
From its best shows (Orange Is the New Black, Master of None, The Crown), to its pretty-good shows (Stranger Things, Santa Clarita Diet), all the way down to its dreck, Netflix has also shown that it can, if quantity was the only goal, make a lot of old-fashioned, mind-rotting American television — because there’s a global market for that, too. (Why else would it grant pop-culture’s ghastliest wish and exhume Full House?)
Somewhere in all this, Netflix has artistic ambitions, perhaps fuelled by its obvious rivalry with HBO, which has brand sensibility to spare, as well as other strongly identified networks, such as FX, that routinely bring out shows that feel like part of a visionary whole.
Logging on to Netflix now means a visit to the core of TV’s overall rush to die of obesity. It’s full of shows one might have heard about, or intended to watch. The spirit is willing, but after one too many Marvel superheroes and self-absorbed dramedies, the attention span grows weak.
Of all the shows Netflix has released so far, how many of them manage to reach common reference points, the way Game of Thrones or This Is Us or The Handmaid’s Tale have done?
The answer is perhaps three: Stranger Things, House of Cards and Orange Is the New Black.
With younger generations considering a Netflix subscription to be all the screen fodder they’ll ever need, why would Netflix ever stop to have an existential worry about its creative sense of self?
Because, as any Netflix subscriber eventually realizes, the overall effect can be like wandering in a Walmart without aisles — a feeling everything is indeed here, but a lot of it is sort of cheap.
Instead of a unifying sense of brand, Netflix thrives on its rogue image — the thief in the night with a talent for getting the goods. Ballyhooing deals and shows that are more than a year away from being seen by viewers: that’s so Netflix. That’s what it’s known for.
Other networks have followed suit, which can cause problems before they even really exist: HBO took a stumble last month in announcing the creators of Game of Thrones would next make Confederate, an alternative-history drama about a present-day Confederacy with an intact system of slavery. It was essentially a pitch, years from a possible debut date, but enough to infuriate many.
Netflix turned the difficult work of producing the highest-quality television into a desperate race, in which the announcement of a new show carries as much weight as the show itself.
Among Netflix’s many ambitions, it has succeeded in convincing subscribers it offers something better than broadcast and cable. Now what it needs to show viewers is, beyond its size, it also has a soul.