Television Development

by Bob Levy

  The culture of TV development as practiced in Hollywood, like the entertainment industry in general, is not an especially intellectual one and definitely not an academic one. Terms like the ones used in this chapter are not uniformly applied in actual practice or used with academic precision. The words for these ideas that industry professionals use in actual practice vary from company to company and from development exec to development exec, yet somehow everyone seems to understand what everyone else is talking about. An agent won’t ask a writer client, “What TV format and genre is the new series concept you’re working on?” Instead the agent might ask, “What kind of show are you thinking about?” and the client intuitively understands that her agent is inquiring about format, genre and concept and answers in terms that address them.

  The three terms at the heart of this chapter are accurate but instructional. While different development professionals in the real world use different words, it’s helpful for the purposes of this book to have a consistent terminology. Understanding these ideas is essential to the professional practice of TV development, and picking up on the various cues that ask for them in the real world becomes second nature as young development professionals absorb the culture of their companies and their industry. I’ll try to point out some of these cues as we go. To add to the confusion, the words “format” and “genre” also have other common usages in the TV industry today, and I’ll point those out as well.

  The history of format and genre in television and their continuing evolution today are subjects of significant academic analysis among media studies scholars. There’s a vast wealth of scholarly writing on these subjects that readers may be interested in exploring, and I’ll reference some of it as we go and I have provided a list of further reading at the end of the chapter.1 Practitioners working in the industry approach these topics very differently, though, from a different perspective and with a completely different vocabulary. I’ll try to point out some of these differences as we go.

  The progression from format to genre to concept is a progression from the general to the specific. Format is the most general. Genre is more specific and effectively a subset of format. Concept is more specific yet. To risk delving into the genuinely academic for a moment, it’s the entertainment field’s equivalent of biology’s progression from family to genus to species (if I remember my high school biology correctly).

  I’ll use real-world examples to talk about these ideas and observe how they’ve been used over time. Most TV professionals are TV geeks at heart and deeply steeped in the history of the medium – if only by dint of childhoods spent watching countless “reruns” of favorite old shows. It behooves young, aspiring TV professionals to screen and study as much TV history as possible and to read widely about the medium’s past.

  The first part of this chapter is a brief and straightforward look at format. The second section focuses on genre, looking back at the most successful TV genres of the first 50 years from the practitioner’s perspective and setting the table for the chapter’s last section on concept, where I’ll pick up the story of the progression of TV programming and development over the last two decades, highlighting recent trends that deliver us to the present day.

  Format

  Format refers to a category of entertainment product typically defined by medium, production style, length and general genre. In scripted television the two most basic formats are the one-hour drama and the half-hour comedy, but there are several more worth exploring.

  This fundamental distinction – one-hour drama versus half-hour comedy – is so central to TV development that most larger TV networks and studios have separate drama development and comedy development departments. Some development execs and many writers spend their entire careers working exclusively in one format or the other. That’s one reason why something as important as format often goes unspoken in professional exchanges: if you’re talking to or about certain writers, producers or execs, your conversation doesn’t need to specify format because you’re probably talking about the format those people work in.

  The entertainment industry in general offers a multitude of formats. Feature film is an example of another common entertainment format in another entertainment business. A feature film is a scripted, narrative, performative, filmed story anywhere from 70 minutes to three hours or more. A “TV movie” (sometimes referred to as a “MOW,” short for “movie of the week,” a once-common but now outdated broadcast network format) is another longform, scripted, narrative, performative, filmed story, yet it’s considered a very different format than a feature film. In many respects they’re exactly the same thing – they’re both roughly two-hour movies – but most of us understand how different in cultural terms those two formats are. The definitions of those two formats overlap in many ways, yet result in two clearly, distinctly different formats.

  But let’s get back to scripted television. As mentioned above, one of the most common scripted TV formats is the one-hour drama, which is about 42 minutes if it’s distributed on advertiser-supported TV, around 56 minutes if it’s distributed on premium cable and anywhere from 45 to 75 minutes or more on streaming platforms. Linear TV has depended since its inception on dependable, structured programming schedules, which helped define traditional series formats. More recently, the proliferation of non-linear TV distribution makes those traditional scheduling imperatives irrelevant, and for that reason and others traditional format rules are slowly becoming less ironclad. General format rules continue to exist for now, however, and continue to serve as cornerstones of development – even as some of the traditional format definitions begin to blur.

  Whether they’re 42 minutes or 75 minutes, these shows are still referred to as “one-hour dramas” (which points to the fact that other format distinctions are more important than actual running times).

  The other dominant scripted TV format is the half-hour comedy, an umbrella term that includes two formats, the multi-camera half-hour comedy and the single-camera half-hour comedy. The multi-camera half-hour comedy is filmed with three or four cameras, live, in-sequence (the scenes are performed and shot in the order they occur in the story – like a play) in front of a studio audience and uses the audience’s recorded live laughter on the soundtrack. The Big Bang Theory is a multi-camera half-hour comedy, one of TV’s most traditional formats, as were Friends, Seinfeld, The Cosby Show, The Mary Tyler Moore Show and I Love Lucy, the last of which actually invented the format in the early 1950s.

  A single-camera half-hour comedy employs “single-camera” film production methods, which actually also uses multiple cameras (typically two), is filmed out of sequence, without a studio audience and typically without a laugh-track (or “sweetening,” as it’s often called) in its final audio mix. While multi-cam comedies are typically limited by a handful of soundstage-bound sets and studio backlot exteriors, single-cam comedies are shot on more extensive sets (that don’t need to accommodate live audience sightlines) and on location. Modern Family is a single-camera half-hour comedy as was Malcolm in the Middle (the series that helped reintroduce the format to American TV at the beginning of the 2000s) and shows like Gilligan’s Island and Bewitched back in the 1960s.

  Both formats are sometimes popularly referred to as “sitcoms” (short for “situation comedy,” of course), but that term is used less often in the industry than the more specific “single-cam comedy” and “multi-cam comedy” or even simply “half-hour,” which means “comedy.”

  Formats tend to have their own cycles of popularity. The multi-cam comedy was the most dominant TV format from the 1970s through to the 1990s, but began to feel outdated at the turn of the millennium and hasn’t been as popular as single-camera comedies since. Single-camera comedies were the more common half-hour comedy format before the 1970s, however, including shows like Father Knows Best and Leave it to Beaver in the 1950s, and The Andy Griffith Show, The Dick Van Dyke Show, I Dream of Jeannie and Room 222 in the 1960s. There were notable multi-camera
comedies in that period too, though, like the aforementioned and formative I Love Lucy, as well as the similarly influential The Honeymooners in the 1950s.

  Half-hour comedies, both multi-cam and single-cam, dominated the TV landscape from the beginning of the network television era in 1948 and into the 1990s (with one notable dry spell in the late 1970s and early 1980s, during which the one-hour drama was ascendant), and one-hour dramas have been more popular than comedies since the early 2000s.

  Beginning in the 1990s a variation on the one-hour drama format took root. Ally McBeal paved the way for the one-hour dramedy format when it premiered in 1997 and used many of the format elements (longer running-time, more plot-driven storytelling) and genre conventions of the one-hour drama, but included more comedic tonal notes than the format typically allowed. Series like Shameless, Orange is the New Black and Jane the Virgin are more recent examples of the one-hour dramedy and heirs to Ally McBeal’s format innovations.

  Half-hour dramedies are an even more recent format. Weeds, Nurse Jackie and Girls were early half-hour dramedies, and Transparent and Atlanta are more recent examples. All the half-hour dramedies have been single-camera half-hours with one interesting exception. HBO experimented with a multi-cam half-hour dramedy in 2006 called Lucky Louie that starred Louis C.K. It was cancelled after one 13-episode season, and its failure probably shut the door on whatever chances the multi-cam half-hour dramedy format might have had.

  Formats, and the rules and conventions that characterize them, are not defined by any industry governing body or written into law. Formats exist because they help networks schedule and market their programming and because they work; they succeed in attracting and holding large audiences. The TV industry, like all of Hollywood, gravitates towards products that work, that succeed in the marketplace, and then reiterates and innovates on examples of success. The popular formats are not etched in stone, and format experimentation and variation occurs over time and will, no doubt, continue into the future.

  Another scripted format is worth mentioning as both a historical footnote and a recent example of format experimentation. Half-hour dramas were commonplace nearly 70 years ago and they are witnessing a rediscovery in our era today. The first TV dramas in the early 1950s borrowed the half-hour drama format from radio where it had been the standard drama format for decades. Dragnet was the first hit drama series on American TV, beginning in 1951, and it was a half-hour drama.2 It wasn’t until 1957 that TV dramas expanded to hour-long episodes that became the dominant drama form. The half-hour drama format had been quiescent since the 1960s, and virtually no TV network developed any until the past couple years. Recent series like The Girlfriend Experience, Homecoming and Sorry for Your Loss have rediscovered this once dormant format.

  The limited series is the last format that’s considered a scripted series format in some corners of the industry. Though where the “mini-series” ends and the “limited series” begins is somewhat open to interpretation.3 The limited series appears to be defined by shows that are formatted as (roughly) one-hour episodes rather than the more traditional 90-minute to three-hour movies. Limited series also tend to run a total of eight, ten or twelve episodes per season rather than the traditional two or three “episodes” of 90-minute to three-hour movie chapters, the latter of which tends more to characterize the “mini-series” movie format.

  There are two kinds of limited series formats, the finite limited series and the anthological limited series. Band of Brothers, which ran on HBO as ten (roughly) one-hour episodes, is an example of a finite limited series. It lasted one finite season. An anthological limited series is also usually ten or twelve episodes per season, but returns season after season with new casts of characters in new (but often similar) settings. American Horror Story on FX is an anthological limited series. It began in 2011 with 12 episodes featuring one ensemble of characters and has returned for additional 12-episode seasons each year since featuring new casts of characters (sometimes played by a rotating ensemble of the same actors) in completely new settings.

  Where regular one-hour dramas and half-hour comedies employ a unity of world and character from episode to episode and season to season, anthologies introduce new worlds and entirely new ensembles of characters. Anthological limited series like American Horror Story and True Detective introduce new worlds (the setting and time period of the show) and new character ensembles each season. Anthology series (as opposed to anthological limited series) like the original 1960s Twilight Zone and the more recent Black Mirror introduce new worlds and entirely new characters in each episode.

  Sometimes series that are intended to be finite limited series get “promoted” to anthological series. Fargo was developed as a finite, one-season limited series but was so successful that FX ordered subsequent seasons with new characters and new, anthological Fargo-esque settings.

  Alternately, one-hour drama series are sometimes “demoted” to limited series. Flesh and Bone, an edgy one-hour drama series set in the New York City ballet world, was developed as a returning one-hour drama series, but after Starz saw cuts of the first few episodes the series was recategorized and launched by the network in 2015 as a finite one-season “limited series.”

  All TV is format-based. I’ve discussed scripted series formats here, but there are many other kinds of formats – reality TV formats, sports formats, a multitude of news formats and many others. For the purposes of this book I’ll focus on the dominant Hollywood scripted TV formats: one hour-dramas, half-hour comedies (both multi-cam and single-cam), one-hour dramedies, half-hour dramedies and limited series.

  Before I move on, it’s important to point out two alternative meanings of the word “format” that are commonly used in the industry today. “Format” also refers to an underlying concept, world and character set of a produced show. The Showtime series Homeland is based on an Israeli “format,” the series Prisoners of War. Homeland’s studio Fox 21 purchased the “format rights” from the Israeli owner of Prisoners of War to allow it to adapt the series into its new American iteration. If you hear the phrase “foreign format” in the Hollywood TV industry, that’s the definition of “format” that’s being used. A “format” is also a shorter series bible document that’s sometimes included in the package of materials that’s submitted to networks for straight-to-series consideration. A format document describes story arcs and character journeys over several seasons.

  Genre

  Within the major TV formats exist numerous genres. Genres are categories of TV series defined by the world of the series, the profession of characters or the subject matter. Genre is a subset of format. There are numerous one-hour drama genres and half-hour comedy genres.

  The “cop show” is an example of a one-hour drama genre. That kind of show, that kind of one-hour drama, is its genre.

  To state the obvious, cop shows are typically set in the world of cops, the police department station houses and police detective bullpens that cops work in. The subject matter of cop shows focuses on the jobs that cops perform, investigating and solving crimes, and the lead characters are (you guessed it) cops. These simple elements offer a basic definition of the genre, one I’ll supplement as I continue to expand the definition of TV genre throughout this chapter and throughout the book.

  Like formats, TV genres are not written in stone. They come and go and rise and ebb in popularity. Some genres thrive for 30 years then go out of fashion for reasons no one can definitively explain. Television development professionals are heat-seekers; they tend to avoid cold genres, gravitate toward thriving ones and, with increasing frequency in recent years, experiment with innovations they have a hunch may work.4

  Television in the twentieth century was more genre-driven than today. While the last 20 years have represented a period of extraordinary genre experimentation, genre hybridization and downright genre avoidance, the first 50 years of American TV (from roughly the late 1940s to the end of the century) tended to offer programming that fit
ted into tidy and predictable genre boxes. Of the multitude of genres that flourished in this period, four drama genres – the cop show, the medical show, the legal show and the PI (private investigator) show – and one comedy genre – the family comedy (also known as the “domestic comedy”) – were the most prolific and successful.

  Why? What did (and to a great extent still do) these genres have that made them so successful and ripe for reiteration throughout the long history of American TV? What lessons can we borrow from their success and apply to other genres and to new genre-bending or genre-upending ideas today?

  There are many factors that contributed to the success of the twentieth century’s four most dominant one-hour drama genres (often referred to as “procedurals”; I’ll discuss that term more in a bit), but, from the perspective of practicing development professionals, four key elements are worth noting.

  First, these drama genres provide an infinite number of cases. There will always be another murder for cops to solve. There will always be another sick person for doctors to heal. In TV, cases equal stories. Stories constitute episodes, and the goal of the scripted television business in the twentieth century, and at many networks and studios today, is to develop series that generate many episodes, a hundred or even hundreds of episodes (Grey’s Anatomy has produced more than 300 episodes and is still going strong). The professions at the center of the “big four” twentieth-century drama genres will always offer literally an infinite number of cases, a never-ending supply of stories. In theory a show in one of these genres could go on forever, and some of them almost have.

  The second element these four drama genres offer is life-and-death stakes. Stakes are a hugely important element of all TV storytelling (of all storytelling), and we’ll talk about stakes throughout this book, reflecting the enormous emphasis that development professionals place on them during the development process. In storytelling terms, stakes are what’s at risk if the main character doesn’t achieve his goal. What happens if the cop doesn’t find the killer and the murderer remains at large, potentially killing more people? What happens if Dr. Ross doesn’t rescue the boy caught in a flash flood in the “Hell and High Water” episode of ER (the episode that’s widely considered to have won George Clooney an Emmy)? What’s at stake in that episode is the life of the kid that Dr. Ross cares about and the viewer has grown to care about in just a few minutes of screentime. We care because we understand the stakes of the story.