Cover art: The Interior of the Palm House on the Pfaueninsel Near Potsdam, by Carl Blechen
The White Lotus Season 3 wrapped two weeks ago, and the world is still reeling from the finale, posting detailed analyses and sharing smug videos bragging about their accurate predictions. Since the initial release, The White Lotus’ fanbase has grown from a few viewers interested in character studies over dramatised plots to everyone with an internet connection. For lack of a better word, the show went ‘viral’.
Since their original introduction to screens around the globe, TV shows have always played a role in the world’s cultural landscape. According to the only bit of research I am willing to do on this subject, the first television show was titled ‘The Queen’s Messenger‘ and released in the US in 1928. So, it’s fair to say that TV shows have been around for a long time. They have grown with us, developed and turned from fictional episodes reflecting contemporary culture to globally anticipated events that dictate it.
Whether it was the hit sitcoms of the 90s or the craze of ‘teens played by adults doing crazy shit’ dramas of the 2000s, the popularity and social impact of certain shows was undeniable. Everyone and their mother can still quote Ross’s infamous ‘We were on a break’ line from Friends, and if you were growing up in the 2000s and 2010s like I was, you still remember the glamorous fantasy of coming to New York and sitting on the steps of The Met like the iconic characters of Go Piss Girl (sorry, I meant Gossip Girl if ykyk).
TV shows would become immortalised via memes, references and memories. The Game of Thrones references I had to endure were endless, and I still remember my friends organising a whole night around watching the show’s finale. I never really got on the GoT train, but I was fed information about it against my will whenever any remotely related subject came up; such was its power.
Then came streaming platforms. If, at some point, you felt like the ritual of watching a show has lost its magic, blame Netflix. Actually, blame Netflix for a lot of other things, like the rise of shitty movies, higher subscription prices, lack of password sharing and general disrespect for the value of good film and television. The first show to release a season in its entirety, intended to be binged, not paced out and anticipated, was House of Cards (problematic lol) on—you guessed it—Netflix. The concept blew up, and other streaming platforms happily obliged. That is not to say that I wasn’t happy not to have to wait for a week to see what happened to the characters I have grown attached to, but it definitely took away the irritatingly charming process of waiting in agony and in your anticipation, exchanging theories with friends, discussing plot lines with anyone who will listen and turning a simple viewing of an episode into a fun group activity.
The switch from watching and waiting to binge did not stop shows from growing in popularity, taking over the world and becoming an undeniable part of today’s culture. The first time I remember a show getting so instantly big you could not go through a conversation without mentioning it was Squid Games (and yeah, fuck, it was released by Netflix). I am sure there were other instances of shows gaining worldwide recognition after the birth of streaming, but that is the first one that comes to my mind.
With an engaging concept, a clever plot and compelling characters, Squid Game took the world by storm. The next Halloween after it came out was intense, if I’m honest. Until today, the influence of Squid Game can be felt. Unfortunately, due to the insatiable hunger of corporations trying to capitalise off literally anything and the public’s general apathy towards partaking in paid experiences based on the show that tried so hard to demonstrate the perversity of capitalism, Squid Game turned from poignant commentary to a Halloween party theme and kid’s birthday animators dressing up in red jumpsuits (I am not joking, that was literally a theme of a party my nephew went to this year).
‘Viral’ shows continued popping up here and there. And then came the social media shift that changed almost every cultural experience, TikTok. The app brought some shows from their grave, even sparking a couple of sequels and remakes (mostly unsuccessful ones). It also became the ultimate platform for the public to dictate the virality of the shows. Shows like Euphoria, which visually stunned the audience with its first season, became a discussion point week after week as its second season was slowly released. People posted rants about the characters, filmed elaborate episode breakdowns, and created memes and think pieces. And the season was not even that good, in my opinion.
This year, the internet has begun obsessing over a new show, Severance. Season two of this fascinatingly complex show, telling the story of the mysterious and important work, has come three years after its initial release, giving Severance time to find its audience and build intense anticipation for the next season. Part of the show’s promotion included a replica office set in Grand Central Station, where stars of the show played their characters hard at work. After the stunt, several actors pointed out that some people watching them had no idea what the display was promoting. Cut to the end of the show and cast interviews, ‘Lumon Experience’ events and deep dives into the show’s plot are all over the internet (or maybe just my FYP). Regardless, even those who didn’t tune in to watch Severance every Friday are now familiar with the concept. Words like ‘innie’ and ‘outie’ have taken on a new meaning, and references to the show went from niche to memeable.
Of course, we can’t talk about viral shows without analysing the undeniable success of the internet’s ‘It Girl’ The White Lotus. Every Sunday night or Monday, depending on your time zone, millions worldwide tuned in to see the new instalment of rich people on vacation and the satirical metaphors they brought along in their £1000 bags. Every episode was followed by pictures, articles, and TikTok videos, discussing everything from mythical symbolism to a character’s dress brand. The public awareness of the creator, Mike White’s attention to detail, resulted in an avalanche of fan theories and a thirst for famously contemplative yet blunt resolutions only quenched by the ninety-minute finale.
The love for this show can be explained by its undeniably excellent quality and a formula that has proven successful season after season. Still, at least a small part of its appeal can be credited to returning to the traditional once-a-week release schedule. The same can be said for all the shows I have previously mentioned (except Squid Game). Watching the show week by week, anxiously prophecising what happens next, makes it seem bigger. Stretching it out helps the show linger for days after an episode is released. Sometimes, I get as excited for easter egg breakdowns as I do for the actual episode. In the current ambiguous, unstable, and honestly quite scary socio-economic climate, it can feel nice to disassociate and unite with one another while discussing the lives of fictional people who pose no stakes for us personally.
It’s interesting to note that a lot of the shows that go viral do not do so on the first try. The first seasons of these shows go by quietly, with only a handful expressing their love. Then, during its absence from our screens, the love grows. It starts with a viral sound or a short clip of the series circulating online. Honestly, I’m not even sure how these shows go viral; something about them just begins to resonate with the public. Sometimes, it’s the concept, the visuals, or just the general vibe; the spark is always different, but the result is the same.
Another point I feel compelled to bring up is how a show going viral can actually harm its quality. We often see good, unique concepts fall victim to the trends they have started and turn into vague replicas of themselves, only recycling the same thing that put them on the public radar in the first place. I bring you back to season 2 of Euphoria. What captivated the audience might have been the unique visuals (that we all know were not even created by the show’s director himself), but the storylines and character introductions became a big part of the show’s charm. Then we got to season two, and it felt like the creator, Sam Levinson, loaded everything he thought people liked about the show into ChatGBT and asked it to give him some scripts. What we got was a mess of broken storylines, repetitive scenes and oddly specific plot holes. We still watched, though, and we were still entertained, but slowly, we lost hope of better development, and the show began to feel like it was parodying itself. It also did not help that the behind-the-scenes drama took over the show’s plot, forcing us to learn more about the tension between the actors and the director than we ever needed to. Still, some of the funniest memes I saw that year were about the finale of season two, so I am not complaining (well, I kind of am). And despite everything I said, I will always consider the conversation between the characters Fez and Cal (once again, if ykyk) one of the funniest things I have ever watched.
Although Euphoria shows us that a show going ‘viral’ can do more harm than good, the rapid online popularity does not do the same disservice to shows like The White Lotus and Severance. The creators of these shows stood strong and continued authentically putting out good quality TV. Maybe that is why the hype for these shows will live on, while shows like Euphoria or even Squid Game, which eventually turned from a worldwide success into a commercialised tragedy or a sad ghost of successes past, will be slowly erased from the cultural zeitgeist. After all, it’s been over two years, and Jennifer Coolidge’s iconic ‘These gays are trying to murder me’ line is still alive and well (unlike her character, unfortunately). And something tells me Parker Posey’s quotes from the new season will likely live on in meme culture and remixed TikTok sounds for years.
For those who are now forced to stop disassociating by drowning out the growingly troubling noise of the real world, do not fear. The Last of Us Season 2 has arrived to fill the void.