(originally written for ALARM Magazine in August 2006)
There are two frustrating realizations I have had about the television industry since starting my career several years ago. I was ready for the first one, but the second took me totally by surprise.
The first realization, the one I was ready for, is that it’s all about money. A few years of college and a few more of general cynicism had me well prepared to deal with this. The great art that comes out of the television business is often incidental to the goals of high ratings and large sales revenues.
My first thought was an attempt to bypass this somehow. This might be possible if you are fortunate enough to find a really killer job in public broadcasting. I can’t imagine how satisfying it might be to make a decent living working on a show like the PBS news magazine Frontline… and neither can most of us because those few jobs are taken, and we’ve got to eat.
Plus, the sad truth of the matter is, despite some of the incredible work coming out of the public sphere, most of it has very little impact, at least in this country. It’s either written off as programming for snooty intellectuals, pigeon-holed as leftist propaganda, or goes wholly unnoticed. The only place public broadcasting has really made a major splash is in children’s programming, and even that has been largely overshadowed by their corporate competitors.
Then I thought, perhaps, by working in the right place with the right people, people who really cared about the product, I could insulate myself from the business end of things. Surely quality and profitability are not mutually exclusive. And looking around the landscape of television I found great art popular enough to be profitable. From lofty, ambitious projects like The Wire on HBO, to delectable little morsels of pop entertainment like VH1’s I Love The 80’s, quality television made by passionate individuals with a true love of the medium seemed in abundance like never before. At last it seemed I had found a way to cope with the demands of the business world on my beloved art form, and no worse for the wear.
Then came the second realization, the one I wasn’t expecting: business is not just about profit, it’s about growth. Seems like a simple enough idea, and it obviously makes sense when you consider the way the stock market functions. What hadn’t occurred to me is the affect that the need to grow a business can have on the product.
Take blue jeans, for example. Originally developed as rugged work clothing for miners and prospectors, jeans had been successfully marketed to America as casual wear by the 1960s. The problem was, by 1970 everyone had a pair, and since they were designed for rugged labor, they lasted forever. How were denim manufacturers going to continue to grow their profits? Well… how about pre-washing the pants in acid and marketing it as a fashion trend? Now, not only does everyone need a new pair of cool acid-washed jeans, but they’ll need another one in a year since the pre-washing weakens the fibers.
This kind of mentality can lead to innovation, for sure. But the need for businesses to demonstrate growth to investors has the nasty tendency to occasionally usurp the goal of making a quality product. This explains why Gillette feels compelled to keep adding more blades to their razors. Where else can you turn to grow your business when everyone already owns a four blade razor? As The Onion hilariously predicted in a 2004 mock editorial by the Gilette CEO, “Fuck Everything, We’re Doing Five Blades.”
Despite the consolidation of media outlets among a few huge corporations, the needs of the stock market always seemed benign to me, only tangentially related to the actual production and scheduling of TV shows. But this was quite a misconception. The day to day business of the TV industry is definitely affected by the stock price of its parent company. The corporation needs the stock price to grow to attract new investors and keep its current investors. So, every division of the company needs to make around 15% more money this year than it did last year. If a particular division doesn’t do this, it is failing its objectives, no matter how much profit it actually makes. So, it doesn’t matter if a network is popular and successful, only that it’s more popular and successful than it was previously. Here’s an example of how that might work…
Ginormous Media Conglomerate, Inc. buys a niche cable television network. Let’s call it The Fishing Channel (TFC), a home on cable for people who love to watch other people fish. The Fishing Channel has a few loyal viewers, and its advertisers are mostly selling fishing gear to that audience. But, with investment from its parent company, TFC is able to produce great new fishing programming. This new slate of shows not only pleases their current viewers, but attracts even more, bringing in a well balanced audience of both hardcore fisherman, and many casual fisherpersons. Everything is suddenly aces over at TFC, and high-fives abound around the office. The ratings soar, and they can now attract advertisers who aren’t just selling fishing gear. All right Fishing Channel!
But, after a few fiscal quarters, the high fives slow down. Viewership had been steady, but not growing in leaps and bounds as it was before. TFC becomes a boring property, far from the powerhouse of ratings growth it was a year ago. It turns out that there are only so many viewers out there who want to watch fishing shows. But, that isn’t an excuse that’s going to fly with the Ginormous Media Conglomerate. Even though they’re still making money hand over fist, TFC is considered a failure unless it can continually make more than it did the previous year. Now, instead of investing time and energy in a long term plan to develop new and better programming for their audience, TFC spends most of its time playing catch-up, trying quick fixes and drastic stunts to meet the short term fiscal demands of its parent company. In short, TFC must make acid-washed jeans. Welcome to the problems of running a matured business.
And this is the sad realization I had about the TV business that never occurred to me until I was knee deep in it. Having a great show on a great network that has a lot of viewers doesn’t really matter if you don’t fit into a scheme that helps Giormous Media Conglomerate grow its stock price.
But, once again, I look around the landscape of television I see examples of quality programming overcoming the often perilous demands of Wall Street. Again we see HBO, who has turned its original programming division into a powerhouse of art and commerce over the last 10 years. Comedy Central’s unflinching commitment to often controversial programs like The Daily Show and South Park has allowed those shows to amass a tremendous body of work. Popular demand via DVD sales seems increasingly able to bring back shows like The Family Guy and Futurama, which were cancelled by network execs in fits of shortsightedness.
So, perhaps things are looking up for me again. I wonder what my next frustrating realization will be?
There are two frustrating realizations I have had about the television industry since starting my career several years ago. I was ready for the first one, but the second took me totally by surprise.
The first realization, the one I was ready for, is that it’s all about money. A few years of college and a few more of general cynicism had me well prepared to deal with this. The great art that comes out of the television business is often incidental to the goals of high ratings and large sales revenues.
My first thought was an attempt to bypass this somehow. This might be possible if you are fortunate enough to find a really killer job in public broadcasting. I can’t imagine how satisfying it might be to make a decent living working on a show like the PBS news magazine Frontline… and neither can most of us because those few jobs are taken, and we’ve got to eat.
Plus, the sad truth of the matter is, despite some of the incredible work coming out of the public sphere, most of it has very little impact, at least in this country. It’s either written off as programming for snooty intellectuals, pigeon-holed as leftist propaganda, or goes wholly unnoticed. The only place public broadcasting has really made a major splash is in children’s programming, and even that has been largely overshadowed by their corporate competitors.
Then I thought, perhaps, by working in the right place with the right people, people who really cared about the product, I could insulate myself from the business end of things. Surely quality and profitability are not mutually exclusive. And looking around the landscape of television I found great art popular enough to be profitable. From lofty, ambitious projects like The Wire on HBO, to delectable little morsels of pop entertainment like VH1’s I Love The 80’s, quality television made by passionate individuals with a true love of the medium seemed in abundance like never before. At last it seemed I had found a way to cope with the demands of the business world on my beloved art form, and no worse for the wear.
Then came the second realization, the one I wasn’t expecting: business is not just about profit, it’s about growth. Seems like a simple enough idea, and it obviously makes sense when you consider the way the stock market functions. What hadn’t occurred to me is the affect that the need to grow a business can have on the product.
Take blue jeans, for example. Originally developed as rugged work clothing for miners and prospectors, jeans had been successfully marketed to America as casual wear by the 1960s. The problem was, by 1970 everyone had a pair, and since they were designed for rugged labor, they lasted forever. How were denim manufacturers going to continue to grow their profits? Well… how about pre-washing the pants in acid and marketing it as a fashion trend? Now, not only does everyone need a new pair of cool acid-washed jeans, but they’ll need another one in a year since the pre-washing weakens the fibers.
This kind of mentality can lead to innovation, for sure. But the need for businesses to demonstrate growth to investors has the nasty tendency to occasionally usurp the goal of making a quality product. This explains why Gillette feels compelled to keep adding more blades to their razors. Where else can you turn to grow your business when everyone already owns a four blade razor? As The Onion hilariously predicted in a 2004 mock editorial by the Gilette CEO, “Fuck Everything, We’re Doing Five Blades.”
Despite the consolidation of media outlets among a few huge corporations, the needs of the stock market always seemed benign to me, only tangentially related to the actual production and scheduling of TV shows. But this was quite a misconception. The day to day business of the TV industry is definitely affected by the stock price of its parent company. The corporation needs the stock price to grow to attract new investors and keep its current investors. So, every division of the company needs to make around 15% more money this year than it did last year. If a particular division doesn’t do this, it is failing its objectives, no matter how much profit it actually makes. So, it doesn’t matter if a network is popular and successful, only that it’s more popular and successful than it was previously. Here’s an example of how that might work…
Ginormous Media Conglomerate, Inc. buys a niche cable television network. Let’s call it The Fishing Channel (TFC), a home on cable for people who love to watch other people fish. The Fishing Channel has a few loyal viewers, and its advertisers are mostly selling fishing gear to that audience. But, with investment from its parent company, TFC is able to produce great new fishing programming. This new slate of shows not only pleases their current viewers, but attracts even more, bringing in a well balanced audience of both hardcore fisherman, and many casual fisherpersons. Everything is suddenly aces over at TFC, and high-fives abound around the office. The ratings soar, and they can now attract advertisers who aren’t just selling fishing gear. All right Fishing Channel!
But, after a few fiscal quarters, the high fives slow down. Viewership had been steady, but not growing in leaps and bounds as it was before. TFC becomes a boring property, far from the powerhouse of ratings growth it was a year ago. It turns out that there are only so many viewers out there who want to watch fishing shows. But, that isn’t an excuse that’s going to fly with the Ginormous Media Conglomerate. Even though they’re still making money hand over fist, TFC is considered a failure unless it can continually make more than it did the previous year. Now, instead of investing time and energy in a long term plan to develop new and better programming for their audience, TFC spends most of its time playing catch-up, trying quick fixes and drastic stunts to meet the short term fiscal demands of its parent company. In short, TFC must make acid-washed jeans. Welcome to the problems of running a matured business.
And this is the sad realization I had about the TV business that never occurred to me until I was knee deep in it. Having a great show on a great network that has a lot of viewers doesn’t really matter if you don’t fit into a scheme that helps Giormous Media Conglomerate grow its stock price.
But, once again, I look around the landscape of television I see examples of quality programming overcoming the often perilous demands of Wall Street. Again we see HBO, who has turned its original programming division into a powerhouse of art and commerce over the last 10 years. Comedy Central’s unflinching commitment to often controversial programs like The Daily Show and South Park has allowed those shows to amass a tremendous body of work. Popular demand via DVD sales seems increasingly able to bring back shows like The Family Guy and Futurama, which were cancelled by network execs in fits of shortsightedness.
So, perhaps things are looking up for me again. I wonder what my next frustrating realization will be?
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