Short Seasons and Tight Plotting
Part I - The Problem with "The Asshole" Character
Part II - The Illusion of Change
Clearly, I can’t get this show out of my head. And my motivation to write right now is that I won’t let myself watch the second season until I finish analyzing the first. But rest assured, once I schedule this blog to post, I’m diving right in.
In short, “You’re the Worst”—the focus of this three-part Story Spotlight—is a half-hour comedy on FXX about two terrible people in a relationship with one another. I doubt it’s the type of subject matter film schools will put into their curriculum. But it fascinates the hell out of me.
In this post, I want to talk about something that’s happening more and more in the two storytelling mediums I follow most closely—television and comic books. While continuous storytelling is still the hallmark of both mediums, they’re each starting to reign things in a bit. Television shows are moving away from the 24-episode season model, and comic books are setting their sites on shorter targets, shooting for 12 or 18 issues rather than 100+.
I could ramble on describing the ins and out of this new trend, but it can be summed up pretty succinctly: shorter storytelling duration, and a more clearly defined end point. Comic book writers, especially at Marvel comics, are beginning their runs with the end in site. Many times, they build in subplots to continue their story if the market supports their series, but in case the audience isn’t there for the long haul, they have a satisfying ending planning after a year or two (roughly 12 – 24 issues).
Television shows are embracing this in a big way, from the 6-episode season model adopted by HBO’s “True Detective,” to the fairly standard Netflix model of 13-episode seasons. The bigger networks are still sticking to their guns for the most part—24 episodes for “Castle,” “Flash,” and “Scandal” will come at us this season. And that’s not a bad thing. The shorter seasons that are popping up are not inherently better, but they are different.
In the case of “You’re the Worst,” the first season is 10 episodes long. And with only 10 episodes, a funny thing happens: the show never needs to tread water. From getting together in the daytime, to making their relationship exclusive, to calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, the dynamic between the two main characters is continually evolving. And the subplots are moving forward at a steady clip as well (more spoilers coming up). The best friend with the unfulfilling marriage has an affair, then another, then ends the season by getting divorced. The hated ex with the new husband turns down a rebound tryst, changes her mind and seeks out said tryst (only to be turned down), excitedly announces her pregnancy with her husband, and ends the season with a disappointed look at the man who will be the father of her child.
It all seems to happen at a breakneck pace, but in reality, it’s not that out of the ordinary for a single television season. However, condensing that story progression into a 10-episode season, rather than stretching it out over 24 episodes, gives the show an incredible sense of energy and momentum. Every episode is exciting. Contrast it with the longing looks of the main male and female characters in most major network television shows—stretched over not only many episodes, but several seasons—and you start to see why this feels so revelatory.
At first, I wasn’t excited about this trend. I’m not the kind of person who naturally embraces change, so the perpetual nature of my favorite stories was comforting—why would I want them to race to the end? Please, my all means, meander. (I still wholeheartedly support the driving school episode of Dragon Ball Z, for everyone that those words mean something to.)
But I have to say, I’m growing to like this feeling of getting in and getting out—and trying to catch my breath along the way.
With that, I conclude my look at “You’re the Worst”—for now. Needless to say, I highly recommend the show. If you watch it, let me know what you think.