It used to be so easy to tell the difference between a British TV show and an American one. The British show would have a maximum of 12 episodes, and the American one would have several hundred, and run for about a decade and a half.
And this meant that they had to be viewed in a different way. These long American shows – think Grey’s Anatomy or NCIS or even 24 – had a habit of rattling on for so long that quality control became much less important than simply keeping the train on the rails. To think of a show like this is to think of a show that burst out of the gates with a ton of promise, then dwindled on to fewer plaudits and smaller audiences until the network did the decent thing and cancelled them. It is roughly the television equivalent of wanting to split up with someone but, rather than simply dumping them, just deciding to grow more neglectfully distant until they can’t take it and break up with you.
However, a recent spate of shows demonstrate that this might no longer be the case. Two shows are ending this month on completely their terms. Bill Hader’s Barry has just two episodes left and, if this last season is any indication, promises to go out on an unapologetically bleak final note.
And then there’s Succession. Judging by interviews with Jesse Armstrong, Succession is less building to an enraptured climax and more just stopping. Armstrong has admitted that the show could very happily keep churning out episodes for years like, say, Billions. And the ending is apparently so abrupt that Sarah Snook didn’t even have an inkling that things were coming to a close until Armstrong happened to mention it during the last ever table read. Obviously this is Succession, so it’s bound to have a satisfying and complex ending, but Armstrong’s decision to end things on his own terms is admirable. Would we be happier if Succession season five was already scheduled for November 2024? Possibly. But would our enjoyment of the show decrease with every new realisation that Armstrong was just content to shuffle the pieces around a chessboard until people stopped watching? Absolutely.
Nor are these isolated incidents. The Marvelous Mrs Maisel is currently wrapping up too. And, although it’s one of those shows that feels like it has been around forever, no doubt in part due to its extended award season dominance, it is tapping out after just over 43 episodes. Again, the show has the bones of something that could very merrily chug along until the cast reach the point of decrepitude, so the decision to cut things off in their prime should be applauded.
A couple of other soon-to-end shows are slightly different. Yellowstone is coming to an end, but this seems to be partly because Kevin Costner possesses the skittish nature of a classic movie star, and partly because by this point the Yellowstone Extended Universe stretches to about a million different – yet somehow entirely identical – shows, and the loss of one barely affects things at all. Similarly, Ted Lasso is coming to an end after just three seasons, but that primarily seems to be because it has made megastars of its entire cast (one’s going to be in Marvel films! One’s presenting Eurovision!) and a little sitcom about football can only contain so much star wattage.
Obviously there are downsides to this trend for leaping from the car before it plummets off a cliff. The WGA strike is, in part, a protest against TV shows being given reduced episode orders, since they foster an atmosphere of insecurity for writers, many of whom have to retreat to back-up jobs between gigs because the current system doesn’t pay them enough. And you have to assume that this is in part a reaction to the cutthroat nature of the streaming model, which is prone to kick the feet out from underneath a show when it is determined that it no longer brings in a sufficient number of new subscribers. Think of Glow. Think of The Santa Clarita Diet. Think of all the other shows that have been booted into oblivion by executives without a shred of advance warning. Now, rather than face an indignity like that, wouldn’t you want to get in and out as quickly as you could? Of course you would.
But despite this, the trend is good news for the viewer. In years to come, when we think about Barry or Succession, we’re going to think about muscular, brave shows that had the nous to barge in, tell the story they wanted and then leave again. No bad seasons. No listless wheel spinning. No crazy new characters being introduced after seven years to cover for the sudden loss of a cast member. Just good, succinct storytelling. So many shows could learn from Barry and Succession. Let’s hope it continues forever.
