ShareThisOne of the strangest television seasons in recent memory is heading into the final stretch, at least in theory. In practice, there are only calendar years, not seasons, so now we can retire the term for good.
A couple of years ago, programmers for broadcast television networks -- that's ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox and the CW, for those who even care anymore -- began to talk about a 52-week season. What they were hinting at was elongating the old September-to-May network season, where the lights got turned out in June and not back on again until September, and shifting to a year-round model. When the Writers Guild of America strike nearly crippled the industry last season, you saw these networks scrambling to change procedures -- when to accept scripts, when to cast, when to shoot pilots, when to evaluate pilots and even when to announce the new schedule to advertisers and media -- that had been in existence for roughly 50 years.
Don't expect a memo or floodlit pronouncement on these changes. They're already here. You're soaking in it, Madge. We're living in a year-round television schedule right this moment not because the broadcast networks made it happen, but because cable channels made it happen and you (depending on your age) changed with the times and with technology.
The old concept of a "network" has been vanishing for years. For many people, FX or HBO or TNT is the same thing as ABC or NBC. In 2002, the surging sea change in viewing habits finally arrived -- audience share between cable and the networks became roughly the same, according to Nielsen Media Research. Since then, cable increased its share every year while the networks' share has sunk.
What that means is that viewers no longer delineate between the two. It's just television. Emboldened by this loyalty shift, cable channels began invading the so-called "television season." Where they used to stick to summer programming when the network lights were out, cable channels no longer feared networks, so they stopped playing by the rules; they launched shows whenever they wanted. Thus ended the notion of a "season." Rest in peace, you confusing September-to-May dinosaur.
It's amazing how this new paradigm is in place but so few people want to actually address it. The networks want you to believe -- even though the Nielsen ratings are proof that you absolutely don't -- that they are the only game in town. And their game has a beginning (September) and an end (May) -- with the assumption you'll snap off the set and go on vacation after the series finales. On the off chance that, say, the economy has forced you into a staycation at home, the networks will give you reruns and "fresh" reality programming.
How is this a viable business model? Even the execution of it is flawed from start to finish. For example, ABC is going to premiere the new Mike Judge ("King of the Hill," "Beavis and Butt-head") animated series, "The Goode Family," on May 27 -- when "the season" is over. If the networks were programming a 52-week schedule, this wouldn't be a big deal. But the networks have taught people that the summer is for reruns, burning off failures (ABC will show the unaired episodes from canceled series "Pushing Daisies," "Eli Stone" and "Dirty Sexy Money" from May 30 to Aug. 8) and dumping shows they don't believe in. No doubt ABC will rage that it loves "The Goode Family" and by putting it on in the summer the network is actually proving that it programs year-round. But the fact is that no sane person believes that.
For more knuckleheadedness, think about the so-called fall launch. The five broadcast networks essentially dump all their content on the masses in the middle of September. In practice, a few networks jump the gun in August and some will string out their premieres through part of October. But really there's a six-week window when roughly 40 new series come into your living room. That's not counting the returning series you already enjoy. Even with one or even two DVRs at the ready, the average American household (of which an estimated 70 percent don't have DVRs) cannot absorb this flooding of the market.
So why not stretch the season -- or dump it altogether? Fantastic question. Answer: God only knows. Partly the networks fear change. Partly they want to be the ones controlling a "season" and thus controlling you. Partly they are inert as a group -- they can't seem to change even when the constraints of "a season" are killing their business.
Note that the wording here is "can't seem to change" as opposed to "don't want to change." The only way it seems likely to work is if all of them change simultaneously. They each have content -- scripted dramas and comedies, unscripted and reality programming, specials and reruns -- filling 52 weeks a year. They just need to spread it around, to be unafraid to air "The Mentalist" or "Law & Order" or "Grey's Anatomy" in the summer, or whenever. Cable has no problem creating "event programming" in the hotter months -- programming that wins Emmys and sells DVD box sets. If networks truly scheduled 52 weeks a year it would allow them to overcome some of the systemic mistakes that are driving away viewers, like cutting up 22 episodes into chunks instead of running them straight.
Better yet, by playing on a wider, less-crowded field, savvy programmers could avoid some of the heinous scheduling woes -- like three good dramas on the same day and hour. There would be fewer knee-jerk cancellations.
And we wouldn't have this inane April panic of rushing a meager seven episodes on the air before the end of "the season" in May and then trying to evaluate the success of these shows by the middle of the month when the networks announce their fall schedules.
It's a foolish, flawed and antiquated system. The faster networks stop pretending we're following their rules, the faster they'll stop their death spiral.
(E-mail Tim Goodman at tgoodman(at)sfchronicle.com.)
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)
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