For the past month, I’ve been eking out the final few episodes of And Just Like That…, the Sex and the City reboot. Half an episode here, 10 minutes of an episode there. It’s not because I want to extend the pleasure of watching the impossibly glamorous lives of rich fiftysomething New Yorkers with enviable wardrobes. It’s not even because I love the way the character Steve yelps ‘Miranda!’ (although I do), or because I really need to know to what baffling depths the character Che can plunge (very deep).
It’s because the show hooks me in with cosy nostalgia, meaning it’s hard to turn away. I just want the best for my fancy NYC pals. But at the same time, the cringe factor is simply too high to sustain my full and undivided attention. I need breaks to recover from every bad pun and half-baked plotline. All of which to say: I still have half of the finale to watch. Surely the most mediocre compliment to give a show is “I like you, but not enough to watch the most impactful episode of your series in one go”.
Reflecting on my on-again, off-again relationship with And Just Like That…, I’ve realised it’s indicative of the strange TV-watching experience I’ve had this summer, which in turn speaks to the weirdness of the pressures created by the streaming era. It’s been a wholly unsatisfying affair overall, because I keep being distracted by so-so shows that promise much and don’t deliver. Take the Apple TV+ series Silo, which is about mysterious goings-on in a mysterious brutalist silo located in a mysterious and brutal dystopian landscape. Sign me up!
I wanted The Wire, I wanted Yellowjackets, I wanted more of Somebody, Somewhere (my favourite show of 2023 so far). I didn’t love being trapped in a partially self-created land of “meh”
But by the third episode, I felt the drag of all that mystery and brutality. It was taking ages to get to the point of the whole thing. I was growing restless. There was only one thing to do, and it wasn’t something I was proud of. I googled episode recaps and then skipped ahead to the final two episodes. And even at that, my reaction took the form of the shrug emoji.
Beauty & the Beast review: On the way home, younger audience members re-enact scenes. There’s no higher recommendation
Matt Cooper: I’m an only child. I’ve always been conscious of not having brothers or sisters
A Dublin scam: After more than 10 years in New York, nothing like this had ever happened to me
Patrick Freyne: I am becoming a demotivational speaker – let’s all have an averagely productive December
I had higher hopes for Hijack, another Apple TV+ show that I did stick with for the entire series (I have to add that Apple TV+ is also responsible for some of my favourite shows of recent years, such as Slow Horses and Severance). In this case, the whole thing was so preposterous that it strained my already strained sense of credulity. In it, Idris Elba plays a smooth and marginally troubled businessman named Sam Nelson, whose talent at negotiating business dramas somehow makes him a fantastic impromptu hijack negotiator.
[ Hijack: An excellent showcase for Idris Elba - shame about the angry IrishmenOpens in new window ]
On a plane full of trigger-happy armed criminals, Sam wanders around being a nuisance and yet doesn’t get shot. He spends the first episode texting his estranged wife about how much he loves her, despite her being in a relationship with a police officer. This police officer ends up (you guessed it) being involved in the investigation into the hijacking.
Elba is incredibly charismatic, and I would trust him to de-escalate a hijacking in real life. But I spent a lot of viewing time snobbily scoffing at what was happening on screen, and at the implausibility of Sam being let away with being so annoying. I don’t like being a snobby scoffer, and yet I kept watching because I didn’t want to give in to giving up. I kept presuming a better episode was around the corner. Spoiler: it wasn’t.
The type of unsatisfying TV I’ve detailed above isn’t the junk food programming that we turn to for a quick hit. I save episodes of Netflix’s Selling Sunset for that, and I relish every vapid second of it. These sorts of shows allow space for our worn-out attention spans. How I savour the blank space offered to my brain by its glossy-limbed stars who say things no real people would ever say in conversation, ridiculous storylines, unusual employment practices and sickeningly expensive real estate.
With junk-food shows, the parameters are set from the off. There are no false assumptions and no one gets let down. It’s the unsatisfying shows that deliver less than they promise that are the most disappointing. They’re the pre-packed sandwich, the hours-old croissant, the limp fries of the streaming world. You consume them out of convenience, hunger or boredom, hopeful that a better bite is around the corner. But you’re left with the sour aftertaste of regret.
Chillingly, part of the strikers’ concerns are around AI being used to churn out “content” in the scramble to continually make new shows
Part of my unsatisfying summer of television was down to the sheer volume of choice. There is an incomprehensible amount of home-grown and imported “content” being made and pumped on to our variously-sized screens constantly. Some of it is glorious, some is atrocious. But the variety can lead to a curious form of decision paralysis, where scrolling the Netflix options can sometimes be more entertaining than watching an actual series. At least then you don’t have to commit and risk getting it wrong.
My TV choices this summer made me yearn for something better. I wanted The Wire, I wanted Yellowjackets, I wanted more of Somebody, Somewhere (my favourite show of 2023 so far). I didn’t love being trapped in a partially self-created land of “meh”.
As a friend who works in film says, no one ever sets out to make a bad movie. So it is with television. And it’s not just viewers who are frustrated with the TV landscape right now. The ongoing Hollywood writers’ and actors’ strikes highlight the pressures put on creatives in today’s more-more-more entertainment industry. Chillingly, part of the strikers’ concerns are around AI being used to churn out “content” in the scramble to continually make new shows.
It all speaks to a need to chill overall. In the rush to keep up in the streaming era, the quality of shows can suffer, and the creatives behind them can too. Audiences can only hope the striking workers’ demands are listened to, and that they’re given the chance to take time making their next projects - without the fear of generative AI breathing down their necks.
And just like that, things could look exciting once more in TV land.
