The Slow Burn of TV: Why Shorter Seasons Are Leaving Us Cold
There’s something deeply unsatisfying about modern television, and it’s not just the endless scrolling through streaming platforms to find something worth watching. It’s the shows themselves—or rather, their brevity. Personally, I think the shift from 22-episode seasons to the now-standard 8–10 episodes has stripped TV of its greatest strength: the ability to immerse us in a world and keep us there. What makes this particularly fascinating is how quickly we’ve normalized this change, as if binge-watching a season in a weekend is somehow superior to the slow, deliberate pacing of older shows.
Take The O.C., a series that shaped my teenage years (and, let’s be honest, my adult music taste). Its first season had 27 episodes—a commitment that feels almost revolutionary today. Back then, TV wasn’t just about plot; it was about living in a world, getting to know characters like they were friends. I remember waiting a week for the next episode, rewatching the previous one, and dissecting every detail with my friends. That anticipation, that investment, is what made it memorable.
Now, compare that to Succession or The White Lotus. Don’t get me wrong—these are brilliant shows. But their short seasons feel like a sprint, not a marathon. In my opinion, it’s impossible to form the same kind of emotional connection with characters when their stories are rushed. One thing that immediately stands out is how modern shows prioritize plot over character development, leaving little room for the small, seemingly insignificant moments that make a series feel alive.
The Lost Art of Slow Storytelling
What many people don’t realize is that some of TV’s most iconic moments happened because the writers had the luxury of time. Nick and Jess’s kiss on New Girl? Season 2, Episode 15. Luke and Lorelai’s first kiss on Gilmore Girls? Episode 88. These weren’t rushed for the sake of a quick payoff; they were earned. If you take a step back and think about it, shorter seasons force writers to condense storylines, often at the expense of depth and nuance.
This raises a deeper question: Are we sacrificing quality for efficiency? I’d argue yes. Modern TV feels like it’s designed for the attention span of a goldfish, with every episode packed to the brim with plot twists and cliffhangers. But what happened to the episodes that did nothing but let us breathe in the world of the show? The ones where characters went couch shopping or had a mundane argument that somehow felt profound? Those are the episodes I miss.
The Problem with Binge Culture
Binge-watching has become the norm, but I’m not convinced it’s a good thing. When a season is over in two days, it’s hard to feel like you’ve truly experienced it. What this really suggests is that we’re consuming TV like fast food—quick, convenient, and ultimately unsatisfying. I’ve found myself finishing a show and thinking, Wait, that’s it? It’s like devouring a meal so fast you don’t even taste it.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how this culture of brevity affects our relationship with TV. When shows are shorter, they become disposable. We watch them, maybe discuss them for a week or two, and then move on to the next thing. There’s no time to let them sink in, to become part of our cultural lexicon. Shows like Friends or Seinfeld didn’t just happen—they were built over years, with hundreds of episodes that gave us time to fall in love with them.
The Case for Longer Seasons
Here’s my hot take: TV needs to slow down. We need seasons that last long enough to feel like a commitment, not a fling. I’m not saying every show needs 22 episodes, but the current trend of 8–10 feels like a race to the finish line. What if we brought back the 15–18 episode season? It’s a Goldilocks zone—enough time to develop characters and storylines without dragging things out.
From my perspective, longer seasons also allow for more experimentation. Holiday episodes, filler episodes, episodes that don’t advance the plot but deepen the world—these are the things that make TV feel alive. When every episode has to count, something is lost. It’s like trying to write a novel in haiku form; you can do it, but it’s not the same.
The Future of TV: A Plea for Patience
If you ask me, the future of TV lies in finding a balance between the old and the new. Streaming has given us incredible freedom, but it’s also created a culture of instant gratification. What if platforms started experimenting with variable season lengths? Some shows might thrive with 10 episodes, while others could benefit from 18. It’s not a one-size-fits-all solution, and that’s the point.
One thing is clear: TV doesn’t have to be a race. We’ve lost something in our rush to consume more, faster. Personally, I’m ready to bring back the slow burn—the kind of storytelling that lets us linger, reflect, and connect. Because at the end of the day, isn’t that what great TV is all about?
And with that, I think I’ll go rewatch The O.C.—maybe even stay up past 9 p.m. this time. After all, some things are worth taking your time with.
