The Age of Netflix

by Cory Barker

  Binge-watching is most often a solitary behavior, especially when series are viewed on mobile or handheld devices. “It’s hard to share an iPad for three hours,” one interviewee pointed out. Several interviewees mentioned trying to binge with their spouses; one had binged with her roommate who didn’t like TV: “I got her into Vampire Diaries (2009–2017).” An interviewee described the experience of bingeing Lost (2004–2010) with his wife through Netflix as cooperative and trust-based. “If I watched ahead that would be cheating.” When I asked if he had ever cheated on his wife, he admitted he was tempted, especially when she was out of town.

  Due to conflicting schedules, tastes, and energy levels, collaborative binges are typically shorter than solitary binges. Binge-watching groups of greater than two are irregular and far less common according to interviewees, though one recalled a group marathon in college of Law & Order (1990–2010). Another interviewee had attended a House of Cards (2013–) party when Netflix released the second season in February 2014. “But no one stayed for all 13 episodes.” The logistical constraints of sharing consumptive control make “group bingeing” less common than solitary bingeing. However, many interviewees reported binge-watching alone so that they could discuss the series with other people, or be part of a perceived ongoing cultural conversation. One interviewee liked to text her friends while they binged the same series separately. “We can’t be together for Orange Is the New Black, but we’ll text each other.”

  Interviewees described binge-watching along a continuum of attentive to inattentive, which I coded as the Viewer Attentiveness Spectrum (VAS). More attentive bingeing is a focused study of the text that is both entertaining and educational, often motivated by the need to catch up or feel narratively immersed. Less attentive bingeing is almost always for relaxation, nostalgia, and distraction. The level of attentiveness is a product of the content, but interviewees determined which content they watched based on how attentive they wanted to be. Sixty-minute serial dramas like Mad Men (2007–2015) and Homeland (2011–) are series that demand attentiveness. Episodes often end with cliffhangers that entice viewers to stay tuned. During more attentive bingeing, the goal is to actively absorb, analyze, and be immersed in the content, which may be narratively complex and emotionally taxing. Some interviewees noted that they rewind and re-watch scenes to improve their understanding of the plot, characters, and dialogue. “Like House of Cards, if I was getting up to drink something, I would hit pause because the text is complicated.” The complication is part of the entertainment and the allure to keep watching in high VAS bingeing.

  Viewers described the content that they binge-watch less attentively as “background noise,” which “doesn’t take a lot less effort” to watch. Although they may have the series on for several hours, they reported doing other activities such as “folding laundry,” “cooking dinner,” and “grading papers” while the episodes played. Interviewees named sitcoms with single-episode plots like The Office (2005–2013) and Parks and Recreation (2009–2015), procedural dramas like Law and Order and House (2005–2012), and reality shows with formulaic structures and frequent recaps like 19 Kids and Counting (2008–2015) and Keeping Up with the Kardashians (2007–) as the series they binged less attentively. Interviewees seemed aware of a connection between VAS and content. Many respondents reserved attentive bingeing for longer periods of downtime, like vacation; less attentive bingeing was for any time they wanted to “relax and just have something on.” Re-bingeing a series also tends to be lower VAS, particularly for comedies.

  A few interviewees referred to highbrow versus lowbrow content as a factor in the type of binge-watching they did, but most stated that the difference in VAS was determined by the structure and complexity of the series. “If you’re watching an episode of Lost,” said one Philadelphia graduate student, “and there’s a sandwich in one scene, you need to know where that sandwich is, or you miss something.” Noticing such details may be crucial in a mystery; in a sitcom they are usually less relevant to the experience. “I don’t pause or rewind,” said an interviewee of her less attentive bingeing of Arrow (2012–) on Netflix. “I could be in the kitchen making coffee, then five minutes later I come back and [the Arrow] is still beating people up. I don’t feel the need to stop everything and obsessively watch something like that. It takes a lot less effort to watch a series like Arrow than a series like House of Cards or Game of Thrones, which would be one I would pause.”

  Viewers found advertising more intrusive for series that they were watching attentively. A clever viewer described his strategy of “DVRing” the first 20 or so minutes of Mad Men so that he could then begin the episode and fast-forward through commercials as the series aired. This sensitivity to advertising extends to product placement. “If Don Draper [the protagonist of AMC’s Mad Men, played by Jon Hamm] is drinking Coke during a meeting that makes sense,” the viewer told me. “But if Ned Stark [Sean Bean’s character on Game of Thrones] had a Coke in his hand, it just wouldn’t make sense in that world.” The viewer’s attention would be called to this inconsistency, which would pull him out of the story. At the same time a series that demands greater attentiveness, like Game of Thrones, “is just better when you binge-watch it.” Comments like these indicate that narrative immersion and attentiveness work symbiotically to enhance the experience of binge-watching while simultaneously being enhanced by the act of binge-watching. Through their narrative form, lower VAS series tend to be less immersive, which affords more mental energy for multitasking as well as less hostility toward commercial interruption.

  Bingeing Motives

  Everyone I spoke with reported at least three of the following reasons for binge-watching: (1) enhanced viewing experience; (2) sense of completion; (3) cultural inclusion; (4) convenience; (5) catching up; and (6) relaxation/nostalgia. Almost all interviewees stated that watching an entire season at once was more pleasurable than having to wait a week between episodes, though one self-described obsessive viewer said she was glad she had to wait for some series because “I can’t control myself.” Interviewees also preferred the Netflix model of full season releases to the traditional one episode per week broadcast model. “Even if I don’t watch the whole season, I like to have the option.” The perceived authenticity of this enhanced viewing experience was a common theme I found. An interviewee told me that bingeing is how a series “should be watched” because it allowed him to “get inside the writer’s head.” If each season of a series is written as a unified arc, then binge-watching allows viewers to experience the arc without interruption. This perception of scriptwriting appears to reinforce the value of binge-watching over the traditional once-per-week tune in.

  Interviewees also felt that the variety and quality of content had improved with binge-watching. “There are so many shows out there that are so good,” one interviewee said proudly. “You read more articles about award show snubs than about the shows that win the awards.” I coded an underlying sentiment that binge-viewers bore some responsibility for making programming “more intelligent” and prolific over the past five years. This jibes with the Netflix narrative that binge-watching empowers viewers by giving them control over programming.55 Interviewees cited the ability to create lists and to rate series as empowering, though no one stated that those ratings directly changed programming. Instead, the perception was that producers were responding to the increased attention afforded through the technology. “There’s just so much goodness,” said one respondent with the wistful esurience of an epicure at an endless feast. While the empowerment narrative of bingeing was subtly laced through my interview transcripts, viewers openly cited their ability to communicate instantly about series with other viewers around the world as evidence of their power to indirectly affect programming. Viewers rarely expressed concerns about providers surveilling their viewing habits—in fact, some seemed heartened that their preferences could be heard and potentially affect content.

  Several interviewees said that being
able to finish a series immediately was a motivation for binge-watching. The convenience of completion speaks to the control that binge-watching technology affords viewers: “If I want to watch two whole seasons of Friday Night Lights (2006–2011) in a weekend I can … and I have.” Another told me, “I hate waiting a week to watch the next episode.” Being able to watch whenever you like was a benefit often cited. “A lot of times I’m at the office until nine at night, so I can’t tune in like my parent’s generation,” said the 30-year-old writer. The convenience of the technology also allows viewers to be picky. “I don’t have to watch a show when it comes on because it’s only on then. I can wait to read reviews or see what my friends say about it.” As a result viewers may watch more, but that they may also watch more selectively.

  The ability to participate in a series’ discourse community motivates some of the longest binges. Interviewees were bashful about admitting that they had watched hours of programming in a short period of time so that they could “fit in” with friends, colleagues, and strangers, though as they opened up during our conversations, I observed cultural inclusion to be a consistent motivator of binge-watching. One interviewee who works at a large, public university described a group of colleagues whom she respects discussing Orange Is the New Black. “I wanted to be part of the cool club,” she admitted. This kind of discourse group also serves to filter viewing selections. Because the interviewee admired her colleagues, she perceived their discussion as evidence of the series’ culturally relevance.

  Less professional discourse groups provide different motivations for binge-watching. Two interviewees reported binge-watching House of Cards because they knew friends would be talking about it on social media, and they did not want the surprises spoiled. “I’d have to avoid human contact,” one joked. The cultural inclusion motivator extended to online communities. Some expressed a guilty sense of pride at what posting about a series signified. To announce you have Netflix or HBO is to make an announcement of class. A 37-year-old investor considered himself “ontologically incompatible” with anyone who likes Friends (1994–2004). “We can work together, but we can never understand each other.”

  Viewers’ inclusion in online discussions can also motivate them to binge-watch, but it carries a burden of obsessiveness. “I used to participate in fan communities,” one interviewee told me ruefully. “It was such a time suck.” She quit when she found a job. Respondents also noted changes in the viewing discourse communities afforded by technology. “We don’t have the water cooler conversations anymore,” a 54-year-old media professor told me. “Because of Netflix we just don’t have to wait until Friday to talk about Must See TV [from Thursday night].” Another interviewee believed there was more talk. “The way we watch is really communal right now,” she said referring to the online conversations that take place through social media. Viewers appreciate the communal and empowering aspects of these communities, but they also recognize the extra time participation requires in addition to the hours they already spent watching. “I had to quit,” said the interviewee who found a job. “It was too much.”

  There were three people who described themselves as compulsive readers and compulsive watchers. A 28-year-old real estate developer told me.

  I’m either going to hate it or I’m going to like it, and if I like it I’m going to watch all the episodes in a week. I do the same thing with books. Once I start a book it’s very difficult for me to put it down. I will sit there for 18 hours with a book. I don’t know if that’s related or my personality, but that’s the way I am…. There’s this feeling inside me, and I want all my questions answered … and it’s on Netflix so I can keep going…. I get a sense of relief when I finish. I have to finish.

  That same interviewee also admitted that her need to complete a series was “a problem.” For these people the sense of completion was the most powerful motivation for binge-watching. “I can go on until there’s no more show…. I’ve never met anyone who consumes media the way I do.” One interviewee stated that he refused to start a series until he knew it had ended. “I need to know that I can complete it.” The need for completion often led to the longest binges and was often associated with negative feelings. Netflix’s Post-Play function, which starts the next episode in a series automatically, makes stopping harder. While the function improves narrative immersion, it may lead to more compulsive viewing than traditional television or even DVDs where a viewer has to get up and insert a new disc. Even viewers who had attentively binged series that they thought of as highbrow sometimes felt they had “over-binged.” Others felt this was a ridiculous notion. “I only feel bad about binge-watching if the show sucks,” the software engineer quipped. At the same time he also mentioned feeling anxious about all the series he “has to watch,” and he stated that he didn’t binge-watch during vacations. For him binge-watching was “like a job,” albeit one that he enjoyed.

  The Structure of Binge Feelings

  My conversations indicate that viewers have an ambivalent relationship with binge-watching. Interviewees described the variety of viewing platforms and the breadth and quality of content as “amazing” and “overwhelming.” They described the viewing controls as “convenient,” and the ability to watch “whatever, whenever, without commercials” as empowering. But interviewees also expressed regret at the compulsiveness the controls and ability could cause. “Netflix is the devil!” one interviewee joked in reference to the company’s Post-Play function. “You have to tell Netflix not to play the next episode…. You could be dead, and the episodes would keep playing.” At the same time, interviewees felt entertained by and excited about binge-watching. Many felt that producers now cater to binger-viewers with better series than traditional broadcast television. “I think the way writers are writing now is different,” the real estate developer told me. “It is accommodating to a smarter audience—one that has access to every other viewer and episode online.” These observations confirm some the findings of the PwC survey of new television habits.56

  About half of the interviewees noted similarities with binge-watching and reading. The South Jersey graduate student argued that binge-watching House of Cards was more intellectual than reading Fifty Shades of Grey (2011). “Why isn’t that binge-reading?” she demanded. The convergence of books and video onto portable technology appears to be blurring traditional distinctions between book reading and television watching, while the perceptions of the quality and cultural position of television are rising. This may contribute to the sense of pride or reduced shame of high VAS bingeing, particularly of “highbrow” content. “I can take my Netflix library on vacation…. [I]t’s my beach reading,” a Philadelphia-area graduate student boasted.

  Interviewees also used terms typically associated with addiction (compulsion, withdrawal, overdose, functional binger, etc.) to describe their binge-watching habits. Some reported feelings of regret and self-loathing after longer binges. The engineering student told me that binge-watching when she has a hangover makes her feel “like a loser.” No one reported losing a job or a relationship because of bingeing, although several interviewees admitted being less productive because of long binges. However, their admissions were often tempered with pride, particularly after binges of “highbrow” content. “I’m such a nerd,” said one interviewee while proudly describing how he had “re-binged” Mad Men on Netflix. Terms associated with endurance sports such as “hitting the wall,” “second wind,” and “commitment” were also used to describe binge-watching. The connotations associated with marathon differ from those of binge, though some viewers used them interchangeably for television.57 One interviewee corrected me at the start of the interview: “I hate the term binge-watching, I prefer the term marathoning … binge-watching sounds like something guilty…. Bingeing is never seen as something healthy.” Despite Pheidippides’s fate, marathons are seen as healthier than binges.

  Interviewees characterized low VAS bingeing as a worse use of their time than more a
ttentive bingeing. Satisfaction derived from the relaxation/nostalgia motive was described as short-lived, particularly with reality shows.58 “I’m not going to sit there and marathon [Here Comes] Honey Boo-Boo (2013–2014).” However, some intentionally avoided series that they felt they would need to watch attentively because of the time commitment. “I’m afraid to get into a series like Doctor Who (1963–1989, 1996, 2005–); that would be two months of my life.” That same interviewee—a mathematics doctoral student in Philadelphia—was comfortable bingeing episodes of the animated comedy Family Guy (1999–2001, 2005–) because he could stop watching it more easily and had seen most of the episodes before. He was a compulsive reader motivated to binge-watch by the sense of completion. The longest and most obsessive binge-watching is usually more attentive, though these are also the binges of which people seem most proud. This may be related to the higher cultural status of series that require attentive bingeing. The closer to literature the programming appears to be, the healthier its obsessive consumption appears to feel.

  Ambivalent Medium

  As cultural anthropologist Grant McCracken points out, television is no longer the “vast wasteland” described by Federal Communications Commission (FCC) Chairman Newton Minow in 1960, but an engrossing and rewarding cultural space: “TV has changed and we are changing with it.”59 The Idiot Box narrative though is difficult to shake, but here’s a suggestion: embrace it. If binge-watching is an escape from reality, so be it. After all, how focused is our multi-tasking reality today? When a binge-viewer attends one series for four hours, it may be his/her most focused activity all day. When s/he binge-watches to relax, s/he can now do so with more control and variety than in the homogenous Camel Caravan era.60 When you binge-watch you do not channel surf, you do not have to watch commercials, and you can move about the series, and the world, freely. You make a conscious choice to closely read a text or to relax with soothing background sounds and old favorites. High VAS binge-watching is akin to reading a book in structure and practice, if not in medium. Serialized dramas are divided into consecutive episodes, often called chapters, while their content is consumed sequentially like a novel.61 Chapters often conclude with an unresolved conflict to stoke curiosity. Cliffhangers have been used for decades in television, but today’s technology and the Netflix delivery structure have empowered viewers to scratch that itch now, like with a book, rather than waiting a week for the next thrilling installment.