EW‘s Darren Franich asks the big question, “Are end dates actually good for TV shows?” Since I have been obsessed with sequential narrative, like that seen in TV series, I have a keen interest in this question.
I think Franich is wrong, at least for the reasons he states.
His argument against setting a scheduled end for a show is this:
…having an end date ruins the possibility of course correction — and improvisation becomes more and more difficult.
Franich argues that this need to course-correct is specific (almost unique) to television.
…it seems logical that storytellers should know when their story ends. But that logic assumes that TV show storytelling ought to follow classical rules of narrative, when the entire nature of the medium makes that impossible. Unlike novelists or movie screenwriters or playwrights, TV writers don’t have the benefit of going back to correct old drafts — they can’t change information in the show’s series premiere two years later. Additionally, TV writers have the curious power to witness their work in finished form while they’re still working on it; that’s why most TV shows go through a process of adjustment in their first few seasons, as the writing staff learns what their actors can do and begin to find their show’s specific strike zone.
It is true that a novel is written and re-written until the author is satisfied. A film goes through post-production and its own editing process; the same is true for music. Theater is more organic, but many plays continue to change through the rehearsal process; even after a show has opened, the actors can adjust their performance.
I’ve pointed out that the closest corollary is the publication of comic books. Occasionally, graphic novels are published in one volume, but comics are typically put out one issue at a time. After a couple issues of a lengthy story have been published, the creators have a sense of how it’s being received by readers.
I have two main objections to Franich’s argument.
First, he gives the same two examples that everyone gives these days of shows that didn’t execute their endings well: Battlestar Galactica and Lost. (As the contemporary cliché puts it: they didn’t “stick the landing.”) But the issue of whether those endings are bad or not is totally subjective. Their “failure” can’t be objectively measured and therefore can’t be blamed on having an ending date.
Franich writes:
…in the modern age, TV writers are more aware than ever about the audience’s reaction to their series… and they’re often very conscious of chasing the audience’s interest.
This phrase seems to suggest that BG and Lost could have done better if they’d just had more time to be creative and to respond to audience expectations.
This sounds like a terrible idea. And I wonder if Franich even believes this.
He offers an example of a show that completed its ending in a satisfactory manner:
…it’s important to remember that only one American TV show has thus far benefited from having a very specific end date in mind going into its final season. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that The Sopranos is the rare show in modern television that openly refused to end with anything like an explosive climax, or a final reckoning, or a closing statement… because it didn’t really end at all.
That’s not true. It did end. It ended exactly the way that David Chase, creator of The Sopranos, wanted it to end. He didn’t have an explosive climax or a “definitive” ending (in that sense that we would see Tony Soprano get killed or sent to prison), because that’s not the story he wanted to tell.
And despite the “modern age,” Chase famously defied audiences’ expectations. (e.g., The Russian). He says he came up with the ending 2 ½ years before they shot the finale. There’s no particular reason not to believe him.
My other big objection is that this theory seems to suggest that fewer restrictions mean better art.
Franich argues for the value of “improvisation,” by which he means “exciting jaunts” and taking the opportunity to “change direction if you find a blind alley.” That’s one way of approaching the production of a TV show, or any other act of creation, but it’s not the only way. Some actors improvise on the set; some plan and prepare carefully. You can’t say one way is automatically better. (I’m not arguing writers shouldn’t be free and open in their creative process.)
But the bigger problem is that restrictions themselves can provoke creativity. I am persuaded of this belief by the first volume of the Projections series, a regular review of cinema edited by director John Boorman and Faber & Faber editor Walter Donohue.
In this book, the following question is posed to a number of directors from around the world: If you were given an unlimited budget, and were under no obligation to distribute it, what film would you make?
Here are excerpts from the answers:
Arthur Penn:
- Not unlike the prisoner long confined to a solitary cell… I cling to my tiny, familiar prison space. Give me choices to make and I can begin to force a film into existence… I need restraint, limits; above all choices.
Krzysztof Kieślowski:
- I don’t believe in absolute freedom. In practice it is impossible, philosophically unacceptable… the goal is not as important as the means of attaining it: it is not possible – thank God! – to achieve our goal.
Sydney Pollack:
- Frustrated as I may be with whatever limitations there are, it is, for me, those very limitations that serve initially to point me in a direction to solve the creative problem.
Paul Verhoeven:
- …an unlimited budget is as much nonsense as a symphony of ten hours. How much art can we stand?
Terry Gilliam:
- From the beginning, I have been convinced that I have always been saved from mediocrity by lack of money… I need a budget to fight against; it makes my imagination work twice as hard.
I wouldn’t argue that setting an end date will automatically lead to a better TV show or a more effective ending. But it seems clear to me that avoiding them won’t lead to better shows either.
UPDATE: I got a response from Franich on Twitter.
UPDATE TWO: This article by Jeff Jensen on “the next Lost” hits on something: “The mandate of any TV show is to stay on the air for as long as possible by any means necessary, not to produce artful cohesion over time.”