We’ve had enough exposition dumps, so let’s get into it. Here are six more things proposed in writers’ rooms that I’d like to see responded to with “...let’s not.”
1. Neither a Wedding Nor a Funeral
Relationships aren’t everything. Or rather, romantic relationships aren’t. As we all—and all TV writers—know, life is about who you spend time with, and it is the characters and their relationships with their worlds and one another that keep us coming back every week and rooting them on. Many series build their foundation on a “will they, won’t they” vibe that gradually extends to each pairing within the cast. But that doesn’t mean that every major character needs to find and profess their love to their life partner before the season’s final sunset.
I’m so used to this “coupling up” denouement, whether natural or forced (i.e., the surprise return of a fan favorite love interest that our protagonist “realizes” she was in love with all along), that two series finales made me appreciate the TV writers who did pull a “let’s not” out of their pocket. In The Bold Type, we watch romance-chasing journalist Jane strike out on her own, leaving behind her dream job and her two best friends to go on a world-trotting walkabout. And in Brooklyn Nine-Nine, we watch Rosa twice toy with her married friend Amy by pretending to be “made whole” by a supposed love interest before revealing that “I am happy. I make a difference. I’ve got good friends. [...] No, I don’t want to settle down!” Now, both series flirted with the notion of coupling up these and other characters—The Bold Type featured near-divorcees Sutton and Richard deciding to stay married and estranged lovers Kat and Adena reuniting, and even brought in a new handsome-bodyguard-turned-interviewee to act as a last-minute replacement for Jane’s ex-love interest Pinstripes, while B99 brought back Rosa’s ex-fiancé, Pimento (though it was revealed to be part of Rosa’s attempt to win the heist, not to mention the writers’ commentary on this very trope).
What is key, however, is not that Jane and Rosa stayed single but that the writers stayed true to the characters. Jane had been in and out of serious relationships/courtships all series long, but she will finally have to make her own way, mentor-less, and get a better perspective on life and all the non-relationship-based experiences and topics she wants to write about in the future. And Rosa, whose bisexuality is not the most interesting thing about her, will keep living her mysterious badass existence in an apartment no one knows the location of.
It’s funny to me that these series, and so many others, end with friends going their separate ways, having grown and matured because of their influence on one another, but still feel the need to make them drive off in indivisible pairs. What is this, a Shakespeare play? Not every person’s—especially not every woman’s—story needs to end in marriage. Trust that all characters’ stories will continue off-screen, and don’t settle for cheap sentimentality by forcing everyone to settle down.
2. Act Twice, Cast Once
I get it. Good actors can play a multitude of roles. But why do they have to prove that all in one show? Evil twins are one thing, but now series seem to be taking every opportunity to double up on one actor’s screentime, either because they killed him or her off too soon or the show itself was predicated on this—let’s call it what it is—gimmick. The most recent, Ordinary Joe, was the last straw for me, but the di-protagonists of Living with Yourself (Paul Rudd), I Know This Much Is True (Mark Ruffalo), The Deuce (James Franco), and even Ringer (Sarah Michelle Gellar) set—and filled—the stage. This doesn’t even count double-duty-pulling non-protagonists, like James Marsden in Dead to Me, Tobias Menzies on Outlander, and John Carroll Lynch on Big Sky.
We get it, actors—you have range. Now go prove it by embodying a character in an entirely different genre. I promise they still award Emmys to people only playing one part... especially those who manage to exhibit the “man vs self” theme without literally embodying both iterations.
I will note that I’m not so bothered by this outside of the drama genre. When played for comedic effect, D’Arcy Carden (Janet[s] on The Good Place), Patton Oswalt (Koenig brothers on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), and Yael Grobglas (Petra and Anezka on Jane the Virgin) multiply the laughs. Even the doppelgangers on The Vampire Diaries were funny additions, even if they were meant to be taken seriously. Oh, and Orphan Black forever gets a pass because they did it first and better and with Tatiana Maslany.
For all others, let me save you some time: twins, clones, and ancestral doppelgangers can have different personalities. Boom. Did it in one.
3. Welcome to the TMCU (Too Many Cinematic Universes)
Remember when crossover events between two network series used to be rare and exciting? Now we could fill our whole year with just The CW’s Arrowverse, NBC’s One Chicago, and AMC’s upcoming 5–8 The Walking Dead spinoffs. Not everything needs to be franchised before it even hits our screens, right? I mean, really, Denis Villeneuve, you’re just going to stop halfway through Dune and conclude the story two years from now? You have to work up to those kinds of shenanigans, like Harry Potter or the Avengers! Even Avatar gave us a complete story before empty-promising like 10 more sequels. This is one movie trend—somehow including Godzilla’s Monsterverse, Cloverfield, and The Conjuring—that does not need to be repeated on the small screen.
Stop trying to be Marvel. They’re better at it, and you’re embarrassing yourself.
Like many of the entertainment industry’s problems, this all relates back to how much easier it is to “widen” an existing IP than come up with an original idea—and attract a new audience. (This post notwithstanding.) Which leads me to...
4. How Are Darkly Reimagined Teen Dramas a Thing?
Powerpuff Girls, Winx, Riverdale, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Nancy Drew: It’s the innocent, do-gooder, humorous characters you know and love from childhood... only now they’re jaded conspiracy theorists reeling from personal tragedy (and/or the death of their parent[s]), and in constant peril. Just what you wanted, right?
I can see inside the producer’s recipe book now: It’s a pre-packaged world of friends solving problems, with a built-in audience. Just add murder! A handful of supernatural elements is also a welcome addition. Oh, and finish it off with a heavy dose of teen angst for good measure.
I guess I worry the most about what it says about us that this darkness-embracing genre has gained popularity. Are all of our idyllic childhoods doomed to be shattered by the navigation of an unfair and dangerous adult world? Or are TV networks just trying to make a quick buck? Oh no, the jadedness... it’s already starting...
5. If you prick us, we will bleed – but why stop at that?
Whether a magical sacrifice or sacred oath is at play, why oh why, when characters have to supply a drop of blood, do they slice open their whole palm? I'm sure the closed fist squeezing out a steady maroon trickle is cinematically appealing (and easier to film), but for the characters, think of the scarring and the pain and the skyrocketing risk of infection, when a little poke on a less utilized body part with far fewer nerve endings would suffice! If they asked for a single strand of hair, would you shear off your whole head?
This is just as bad as yelling “stop” when you haven’t caught the perpetrator who hasn’t yet seen you coming but does have ample space to escape. You’re making this a bigger problem than it has to be! Locke and Key may be the most recent series to catch my eye with this hand-slicing trope, but it is far from the first or the last. So to all who may follow in its footsteps, I issue this warning: you better believe I’m going to be watching for bandage/scar continuity.
6. Stop Calling Every Medieval Fantasy “the next Game of Thrones”
I admit that this trope is more for marketers rather than writers, but here goes:
Other series are going to be sprawling epics, feature characters scheming and vying for power, be based on books, or have ensemble casts, high production values, and globe-spanning film sets. But each will also have its own scope, tone, and themes—and likely won’t have any Bran, incest, or Red Viper-ing. Who’s to say precisely what recipe will recapture that level of popular taste?
Point is, there were similar shows before GoT, and there are going to be more after. Shadow and Bone, The Witcher, Tribes of Europa, and The Wheel of Time are very much their own dramas, with their own world-building and character dynamics, just as the earlier Merlin, Legend of the Seeker, and The Outpost drew their own crowds. Besides, the last appointment TV show was Lost, which had neither swords nor castles (but did have its own set of plane crash survivor copycats, like Manifest, The Wilds, Wrecked, and Yellowjackets, not to mention popularizing the sci-fi mystery subgenre as a whole).
In a world where just about every series can be described as elements of 2–3 pre-existing shows mixed together, you’re only hampering a show’s last remnant of uniqueness by using unoriginal promotional materials. If you’re only as good as your next big idea, maybe stop dwelling on past successes.
