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David Morley conducted a study on audiences to investigate different decodings and interpretations of television texts and how different interpretations of the same text relate to cultural factors. If given the opportunity, I would conduct a similar experiment with an episode from The Golden Girls called “72 Hours.”

In this episode, Rose gets a letter from the hospital where she received a blood transfusion that the blood given to her could possibly be infected by HIV/AIDS, and she needs to be tested. She gets tested, but has to wait 72 hours for the results. The audience watched Rose go through a series of emotions as her friends try to comfort and support her during this difficult time. The episode aired in 1990 during the AIDS crisis, and The Golden Girls producers took a huge risk to air this episode during such a sensitive time. Reviews praised the progressiveness of the episode, and how it taught us how AIDS can be transmitted, that it can happen to anyone, and understanding the disease is important. They quote Blanche’s infamous line, “AIDS is not a bad person’s disease, Rose. It is not God punishing people for their sins.”

Nevertheless, the episode was not perfect. One of the women, Sophia, refused to drink from the same mug as Rose and to use the bathroom after her. In the end, she learns how wrong she is and that she needs to support Rose during her time of fear and not add to it. She even drinks from Rose’s mug. Despite learning her lesson in the end, Sophia’s behavior is unacceptable and would not pass if the episode was made today.

If I conducted an experiment similar to Morley’s, I would investigate TV audiences of different age demographics and how they interpreted the message of the episode. Possibly, young adults who did not grow up with the show and only found it on Hulu recently, may understand how the show is progressive for its time, but thought the episode could have went with a different storyline for Sophia. They may have more of a negotiated or oppositional decoding. People who grew up with the show, like my parents, may see the dominant message of the episode, remember The Golden Girls for being ahead of its time, and see no faults with the episode. I would be interested to investigate how television episodes labeled as “progressive” and “ahead of their time” hold up today.

For my flow analysis assignment, I wrote about the planned flow of the CW network– in regards to the show All American specifically. Before you open your mouth to say I am obsessed with this show, I want you to understand that this is not just an ordinary show. It is a show created and handcrafted by God himself. It addresses important issues in this society while also breaking down the stereotype of different groups. Without promoting the show too much, I just want to give a small post appreciation to the writers and producers of the show–as well as the beautiful actors.

Nevertheless, I was able to zone my attention on the way that the network caters not only to the demographics of the network but also to the particular storyline when it comes to the commercials they presented. I analyzed 2 episodes of the show but in this post, I will only focus on only one episode. Through this analysis, I learned a lot about how a network can structure its ad choices in order to connect with the show. Moreover, I will talk about how the advertisements in episode nine go hand and hand with the memorable moments in that episode. Here is an overview of my flow notes:

Keys moments in Season 3 episode 9

All American – Season 3: Episode 9 : Testify

About 42 minutes each episode 

Commercials Before Start of the show

• Charmin (toilet tissue)

One of the most memorable scenes from episode 9 is when Olivia gets in a car accident with Spencer. This scene was the perfect segway for the insurance ads that came back to back. I realized that the targeted audience of this network is young adults– who usually have the highest rates for car insurance. This is a very smart way to advertise after we see it happen in the show because our minds will already be in a place where we feel for the characters. So, it is easy to feed off of that emotion and sell us an insurance brand that we can not forget about.

Next, it was the random advertisement about Strayer University that sealed the deal for me. Before the commercial break, Coup talks about wanting to drop out of school while her mom is convincing her that she is making a wrong choice. The ad about the university speaks to the scene in which they are trying to show us that signing up for school is the right choice. This observation further supports my claim that the content of the show is working together with the flow. Overall, it was interesting seeing how the CW brand coincides with the organized flow to cater to the demographics they reach, which is something that I can not unsee now after studying it.

After reading Mittell’s “A Cultural Approach to Television Genre Theory”, which emphasizes the negotiation between specificity and generality with genre studies, I wanted to know how this concept would be applied to Community, one of my favorite TV shows. Community is often categorized as a sitcom (or at least a satire of one) and follows the main character, Jeff Winger, a lawyer who is disbarred for faking his undergraduate degree and must enroll in a “community college” in order to resume his career. He is surrounded by a motley crew of students, who fit into various narrative archetypes, ranging from the tense perfectionist to the arrogant athlete.

Despite being referred to by popular media outlets as a sitcom and/or comedy, the show incorporates various non-comedic genres, structuring the narrative around tropes and conventions from TV, movies, and pop culture in general. There is so much going on within Community that placing the show under the label of a singular genre would be an overgeneralization. In order to apply media genres to the show, I decided to follow Mittell’s idea of narrowing the analysis to focus on a “specific aspect of a genre’s definition, meaning, history, or cultural value”, which avoids the “problems of overgeneralization that have been typical of more traditional genre studies, as well as acknowledge that genres are too multifaceted and broad to be understood in their totality”(70). In particular, I think a significant component of genre analysis within Community is its use of cinematic language and cultural references. Not only is Community about the semiotics of the sitcom and the tropes of almost every single genre, but it touches on the shared culture that the audience brings to the show.

Since it would be challenging to pick up every single allusion to literature and pop culture, every viewer is able to find their own path through the series. Each episode is a unique riddle, which allows the audience to find personal significance in the content. By engaging the audience through various cultural references, Community reifies sitcom conventions and connects them to the lives of viewers themselves.

After having watched and analyzed the flow of NBC programming, I can’t help but make comparisons to what I see on Netflix and Hulu (my primary modes of entertainment). 

I watched The Voice on NBC. It was a spicy battle round with contestants and judges I do not care about–why is Blake Shelton the last judge remaining from my childhood days of watching this show? Still, the nostalgia hit, hard. I was taken back to the days when I’d come home from school and watch this with my parents. As such, it was weird when the commercial cuts happened. I went from being completely engrossed in the show, to shell shocked when the pandemic ads came on. I didn’t turn on the TV to be constantly reminded of reality. The thing about these commercials is that viewers can tell when they are coming. After 7-10 minutes, and right before something important happens on the show. I felt like I was oscillating between dread and anticipation: I felt dread when the commercial was about to come on, and was quite ready to get back to watching the show after the commercial. While the ads were taking place, I tried to go on my phone, but something about being on the phone while watching TV feels wrong.

This is a stark contrast from Hulu, in which the commercials show up randomly because of their fixed occurrences during the show. The annoying thing about that is sometimes a commercial would take place right in the middle of when things got important. Nonetheless, Hulu ads are kind of fun to watch: “Oh neat, I’m given a choice between which Chevy scenario I’d like to see” 

    When the Hulu ad doesn’t capture my attention, (or rather, when the algorithm is wrong about me) I admit that it’s a lot easier to go on my phone. I’ve caught myself tapping through twitter DURING whatever it is I was watching before. It’s concerning to reflect on how short my attention span has become now that I have the show and all the social media platforms in one place at my fingertips. I often wonder if I’m even truly getting the most of laptop TV/film, because of this constant detachment I feel that doesn’t exist when I’m watching TV. Oh well, back to my show that’s running in another tab while I write this blog.

I want to semi-address a concept introduced (at least to me) by the Roseanne reading: the idea that a piece shown with different surrounding commercials is not the same piece. The reason I say semi address is because I recognize that what I am about to talk about is not exactly along the same point as the reading. The reading was more focused on what a piece of television might mean to people concerning the differences in the content surrounding it. I instead what to look at commercials less as a meta device and more as a narrative aspect and rather than discuss how two different commercials might result in different readings of the same episode, I instead want to illustrate how an episode is affected simply by whether it has commercials or not. I first remember thinking about this as a kid who was way into Ben 10 and when I first watched a Ben 10 episode on dvd, which of course had no commercials, it was the first time I actually noticed the commercial break. At first, being a dumbass kid, it took me a little while to figure out “Wait why do they keep cutting to black and then showing me the same three seconds I just saw?” Nowadays with all the streaming services we have, their original shows don’t have to account for this but I’m willing to guess a lot more 0f us have noticed when we go to watch an older show made in the golden age of network television that of course still has its commercial breaks. I bring this up because I encourage you to notice how this contributes to where an episode of any show has to leave a cliffhanger, has to leave you with that feeling of What’s gonna happen? In Ben 10, they can’t guarantee that the very next episode in this time slot is gonna be another Ben 10, and even if it is what are the chances it’s the next episode chronologically, so the commercials throughout the episode mark where the cliffhangers are. I’d even argue as much as I hated commercials as a kid, that’s probably because the cliffhangers were very well timed. I hated the commercials because they always came on when something big was about to happen, but I do think that forcing me to wait had me more engaged than when I watched them on dvd and I would find out what would happen in like a second. Shows like the DC Universe’s Harley Quinn series (check it out btw, criminally overlooked) will more consistently place cliffhangers at the end of each episode so that you can just binge it all at once.

(tw: sexual assault) Bridgerton was an interesting watch. My mother and I watched it together in one sitting after she put on a random show to watch during a workout on her stationary bike (it was kind of weird when we reached the sexy stuff, but by then we were invested), and at the time it was lovely. The netfilx original served as a rollercoaster of an experience that was silly enough not to need deep thought while still be an entertaining escape from quarentine. My mom and I had a great time laughing at our theories about what would happen next, thirsting over the duke, and hoping the characters could solve their problems and get together already! For the most part the show was fun, but towards the end the need to keep the tone of the show light and something to escape to caused important moments, choices, and dynamics to be glossed over in away that takes very little thought to tinge that enjoyment with some disgust.

Though the unexplained race dynamics (is this a race-blind world or not?), the pattern of casting light skin characters as likable characters and dark skin actors as the villains, and skirting around the realities of privilege in the world of Bridgerton all come to mind, what is likely the most egregious example is how Daphne and Simon’s relationship is depicted after they get married – after (many scenes of) a very sexual honeymoon period, Daphne learns of the mechanics of conception. This causes her to realize that her new husband lied to her – he is not actually infertile but has been using the pullout method to prevent her from getting pregnant and Daphne didn’t know enough about sex before marrying him to know that’s what he was doing. What Daphne didn’t know was that when Simon said he could not have children, he was referring to a vow he made to his father, who mistreated him as a child, not a physical condition.

At this point, as an audience member, I was on Daphne’s side. It was a cathartic moment of the character finally realizing what the audience already knew, and I was on the edge of my seat to see how she reacted. I expected a new string of events that would finally allow Simon to resolve the backstory responsible for the character flaws that had plagued him so far. Instead, I was treated to a very sudden rape scene: Daphne marches into the master bedroom, engages Simon in more sexy time, and at the last second overpowers him to force him to complete the deed still inside her while he struggles against her.

For the sake of argument, there are a few reasons that this choice could be, well maybe not a good one but maybe an effective one. One possibility is the idea that it introduces an opportunity to examine the danger of inadequate sex education and how people who love each other can hurt each other when information not available. Another is that Daphne’s redemtion and the rehabilitation of relationship after this could be a compelling story. Unfortunately neither of these directions are followed.

Daphne is never held accountable for how she hurt Simon, nor is her choice ever acknowledged as rape, or even something wrong. Instead, only Simon is challenged, not even for lying to Daphne but for not wanting children to begin with. By including the rape scene very serious ideas were introduced to the show, Simon’s stance on children was not the thing that needed to be examined at the moment.

Not enought time was alloted to detangling the drama introduced by the scene. The second to last episode of an otherwise thoughtless show is not the time to introduce a complication this serious. There was no time for the characters to really understand where each other was coming from, for Simon to react to being violeted the way he was, for Daphne to recognize the harm she’s done, for growth to occur, for me to get back on board with this relationship. Instead, the show ignores the issues it introduces and tries to uphold the lighthearted drama vibe it had established earlier without resolving them. A happy childbirth scene in an epilogue scene a year later is not the satisfying conclusion this development demands.

It might seem strange, but I enjoy watching a fair amount of television geared towards younger audiences, however, I only seem to enjoy older shows like Arthur, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Curious George, etc. In large part this is due to nostalgia, but I also feel that there might be something more tangible in these older productions that’s lacking from contemporary childrens television.

Arthur and Star Trek in particular are notable for their willingness to address contemporary issues, and wrap them up in a readily consumable package for a younger audience. Star Trek is perhaps less “on-the-nose” as they frequently can “abstract” these issues through the lens of a futuristic society in a seemingly endless universe. Arthur however also manages to tackle these issues in a slightly more direct way, while still abstracting to a degree (after all, it is a show about a collection of anthropomorphized animals). But what makes these shows feel genuine where todays telivision feels…. perhaps contrived?

On a formal level, the switch from hand-drawn to computer-animated characters has a large impact on my reception of the show. You can feel the care and attention to detail in a show like Arthur, where every frame was meticulously hand-drawn by an artistic team. In contrast, something like “paw patrol” (which apparently is huge for kids right now) feels… cheap, engineered, inauthentic. But children still enjoy it! Producers and independant content creators took note of childrens enthusiasm for these animated characters, which has lead to a bizzare new world of cheap animated shorts on YouTube.

This highlights the biggest shift in childrens telivision in the past decade – the transition from telivision to simply entertainment. This shift has occured for adult audiences as well, as we move away from the TV set instead opting for netflix or youtube, however children and childrens entertainment are much more perilous and perhaps impactful than their adult counterparts. This shift away from television has decentralized any sort of accountability for what children are watching. Before the internet, the solution to making sure your kids weren’t watching “adult” television while you were gone was hiding the remote, but even then the worst thing they could stumnle across was garbage reality TV. Now, there’s an entire world of content online, none of it has to be approved to be shown like on television, no single company is responsible for most of the content on youtube, they ultimately care about getting views, and have no incentive for deep meaningful or even ethical productions.

There are countless youtube channels that make terrible knockoff cartoons, plagarizing existing shows and capitalizing on the “trust” built by the original program. This is concerning because many parents don’t even know the difference, they just let their children passively consume content from these channels on youtube, believing them to the official streams of shows like Peppa Pig or Paw Patrol, when in reality they’re rushed shorts that – beyond lacking the production quality or “weight” of the real show – are often traumatizing to children that watch them.

Even the youtube channels geared towards childrens entertainment that aren’t just ripping off already-established shows, have problematic structures that lead to concerns of ethics and intent. The recent trend of “surprise eggs” for instance demonstrates just how impressionable children are, and frankly how little stimulus is needed to get them hooked. “Surprise Egg” videos make use of intermittant reward cycles, much like a casino, to keep children engaged, dying to see the big reveal, then begging their parents to go spent $40 on one for themseslves. There’s a reason why children aren’t allowed in casinos. There are countless adults with fully developed brains who just can’t leave the table, how is a child with an underdeveloped brain (particularly the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for executive functioning, self regulation, and logic) supposed to understand the nuances of gambling and reward?

Recently the EU moved to ban microtransactions and “loot boxes” in childrens video games, because time after time it’s been demonstrated that children don’t understand the cost/reward. It’s quite literally gambling with their parents money.

This is getting a little off topic, but I hope I’ve started to address some key shifts in childrens television and entertainment that I’ve noticed in these past couple years. Of course it’s hard to be objective in this situation, and I’m sure that my parents felt much the same way about me, and my grandparents felt the same way about them. How much of this is just new conventions, new technology, the start of a new era in childrens media? It’s hard to say… but with the shift away from TV itself, I feel that there is a large enough transition that it needs to be addressed, it can’t just be seen as another new phase of entertainment, it’s an entirely new system, and we need to have some safeguards in place. The first step frankly, is educating parents and making sure they’re tech-literate.

There are many instances in television where a fictional pairing displays harmful behaviors towards one another and the showrunners “rectify” these flaws by encoding a message to make the toxicity a part of their development throughout the series. Somehow, the dominant-hegemonic decoders in favor of the pairing will reframe the message and interpret it as a positive reading of the text. Examples of this include: Even though these characters did horrible things in the past, we can overlook it because they have changed for the better, or the actors have good chemistry meaning that I can ignore the relationship’s issues, etc. Granted, these are fictitious characters that technically have no bearing on the viewer’s livelihood when they do not consume the medium, so it may not matter how a relationship is portrayed to some decoders because it is still fiction. However, it is alarming how easily an encoded message can convince decoders to interpret the toxic relationship as romantic through a dominant reading.

I recently came across an example of this in my first time watching Game of Thrones in their first season between Danaerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo. I found their relationship broadly resembling aspects of Beauty and the Beast. A “beastly” man holds a young girl captive as she sacrifices her freedom to protect the will of a family member. Their initial tumultuous relationship eventually blossoms into one of true love and mutual respect. These recognizable tropes are part of the message encoded by the storytelling to humanize Khal Drogo, empower Daenerys, and depict an endearing connection between an unlikely pairing. The message is supported by the actors’ electrifying on-screen chemistry and performance, which leads to a dominant reading of the material. Therefore, any disturbing scenes, implications, or issues present at the beginning of the relationship do not carry as much weight as the pairing’s “development” beyond those moments. When Danaerys puts Khal Drogo out of his misery at the end of the season, dominant-reading decoders are not only convinced that these two were in love but also feel robbed of more content between these characters on the show.

Instead of crying over the death of an “epic” couple, I spent the season debating on whether it was wrong to diagnose Danaerys with Stockholm Syndrome by falling in love with Khal Drogo despite his abuse of her. I understood the encoder’s message in terms of intention, the direction the relationship was heading, the actors’ work, and their story arc. However, I was not charmed by the relationship because of the horrific foundation it was built on. Through my negotiated reading, I could not overlook the influence of the fictional world’s social norms and how they played a significant role in the relationship. Their society dictates that women must be docile and subservient to their husbands and are exchanged with neighboring kingdoms in exchange for establishing alliances, building a family legacy, or, in this case, procuring an army. Part of this social dynamic is that the women have no choice but to make the best of their situations regardless of their initial displeasure or lack of consent for said exchange.

At the start of the season, Danaerys did not want to marry Khal Drogo but forced to do so because it was the only way for her brother to get an army to reclaim the iron throne. After the trade-off, Khal Drogo raped her on multiple occasions. These scenes of sexual assault communicated an image of helplessness through the acting choices, dialogue, and explicit, negatively charged visuals. To convince him not to rape her again, Danaerys had to use her body to appease Khal Drogo’s sexual desires and present her willingness to lie with him moving forward. That scene marked the beginning of their so-called “development” they receive for the rest of the season. These scenes between them make it impossible for me to take a dominant-hegemonic position on their relationship because of how torturous it was for Danaerys and how one-sided it started. 

Perhaps various readings of this relationship are dependent on what the decoders are most attentive to and viewing preferences that they tend to gravitate to. Maybe the actors’ performances were alluring and appealed to a collective of the dominant readings decoders. Or they enjoy an unlikely pairing turned power couple midway through the season. An oppositional reader may find the power dynamic socially unacceptable and misogynistic. As the negotiated reader, I can acknowledge the triumphs of the storytelling and the performances and disliking the foundation for their love based on the roles of the social norms and pressures that could have influenced her development. Each decoder’s viewing experience will be unique to them in some regard, which will influence their reading of the text. I cannot fathom how people could like pairings that share similar distasteful attributes(I know they’re out there), but thinking about each groupings perspective through encoding and decoding is an interesting mode of interpretation to consider when watching any television.

At the time of its release in 2018, the Danish Netflix Original, “The Rain”, was a flop among critics. The primary criticism of the show was that it added nothing new to the dystopian, sci-fi genre. I understand this critique, as the premise of the show is a group of adolescents holding the key to saving the world from a deadly virus that spreads through the rain, but extracting the cure means killing one of their own. This is a frequently overdone conflict, but at the time of the show’s encoding, the writers could have had no idea that the reality in “The Rain” would one day be our future.

Watching this show amidst a global pandemic, I respectfully disagree with the two year-old articles claiming the show’s blandness. In scenes where government officials wear masks while swabbing people’s mouths for antibodies, I don’t see a poorly developed fictional world, but rather a show that could be the shorthand version of Contagion or, more frighteningly, a nightly news update on COVID-19.

In 2018, these connotations were nonexistent in the decoding of the show, unlike their undeniable presence during my own decoding today. Therefore, it is understandable that the messages understood by viewers were more mainstream. The dominant 2018 reading of “The Rain” is maintaining personal morals at the expense of others. The protagonist, Simone, expresses this reading as she prevents her friends from killing those chasing them, and refuses to turn in her brother, Rasmus, even though he holds the cure. As Simone develops in Season 2, she also portrays the negotiated reading of this text: at what point does survival overtake your personal beliefs? Despite her high moral ground, Simone shoots and, ultimately, kills someone in a panicked moment of protecting her brother.

Finally, the oppositional reading would be to simply sacrifice Rasmus, an individual, for the good of humanity. If this was the intended dominant reading, the encoding stage would have looked very different. The characters would’ve been developed in an entirely new framework, in which their morals were substituted with cold, heartless exteriors.

Watching this show with 2021 eyes is honestly difficult. After the first 15 minutes of Season 1, Episode 1, I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep watching the show. After a few days, however, I found myself drawn back to the show. I wasn’t sure why, at first, because I’ve been finding relief from the pandemic in lighthearted sitcoms, recently. I realize now, though, that I don’t know when the COVID-19 pandemic will come to an end or what that end will look like, but, with “The Rain”, I know that there will undoubtedly be a resolution.

Netflix is arguably the most popular streaming service of all time. Fans are drawn to the service’s commercial-free experience of easily accessible movies and television. While other streaming services like Hulu, HBO, and Disney+ have also found huge success with their platforms, Netflix still remains number one.

Netflix, like many other cable television channels, has a calculated flow to keep viewers hooked to the platform. First, let’s look at the design of the app. When you click on your avatar and enter into Netflix, the first and biggest thing you see is a newly released movie and TV show that Netflix wants you to watch. The trailer for the show or movie also plays after only ONE second of being on the screen. It can be irritating having something play for you without consent, but sometimes if the trailer looks interesting enough, I will continue watching. Also, if I went on Netflix with no prior intention for what to watch, I might even click to watch that show or movie. Netflix makes the content large and bold and plays the trailer to make the viewer inclined to watch it because it’s the first thing they see, so it’s the easiest choice for them. They do not need to overthink it. The content will repeatedly show up at the top of the screen for days or in other categories like “Popular on Netflix” or “Top 10 in the U.S. Today,” so you feel even more inclined to watch it since Netflix keeps recommending it and people seem to enjoy it. For example, I had no intention of ever watching “Ginny and Georgia,” but it was the first thing I saw every time I went on to Netflix, I saw the show in the “Top 10 in the U.S. Today” and was curious why it was popular, and the show made its way into every category on the app (it was in the obvious category “Netflix Originals,” but in less obvious categories like “Because You Watched ‘Glee'”). Eventually, I broke down and finally watched “Ginny and Georgia.”

Netflix uses repetition of showing content on the website, immediate trailer viewing, and categorizing content to make the viewer believe the show is perfect for them in order to keep subscribers hooked onto the platform. While viewers may believe they are in control and picking what they want to watch, they are not, Netflix is slowly brainwashing the viewer into watching what they need to be popularized. Trashy shows like “Ginny and Georgia” need more of a boost to get people to watch them unlike critically acclaimed shows like “Breaking Bad.” I mean, how did “Ginny and Georgia” get a season 2? Overall, Netflix’s flow strategy can essentially make anything popular.