As I write this, I’m bingeing Boardwalk Empire as my summer vacation wanes. Yes, Boardwalk Empire, the decade-plus-old Steve Buscemi prohibition-era premium drama that has notes of The Sopranos mixed with Mad Men and Al Capone glorification.
Also as I write this, the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes rage on with little to no end in sight. And I’m continuously sickened by the tone deaf and disgusting commentary from studio executives who seem to think that rents are still $10 and wealth springs forth from not buying an avocado every week.
If you’re not aware, the reasons for these Hollywood strikes are mired in several key issues but one of the most prominent being streaming residuals.
Now, look. I love to binge a TV series. I love immersing myself in a story for an extended period of time. I always have. A lot of folks roll their eyes at this, or see it as weird that I find sinking into a couch to watch a narrative unfold is a waste of time.
And yes, here’s the obligatory mention that binging is a privilege. It requires the money to subscribe to a streaming service (or know someone willing to lend you their password/IP address); the time and energy to watch more than one episode of something at a time; and hell, a device to watch it on. It’s an everyday luxury that I don’t take for granted.
But couldn’t I argue that a novel or any book-length narrative is a binge on your own time? It’s just that before streaming, binging TV meant buying a DVD box set or having Netflix send you one DVD at a time in the mail in impossibly flimsy waxed-paper sleeves. A controversial take perhaps, but: the streaming era is a beautiful thing for TV and movies, if you ask me.
I remember vividly the revelation of binging all of Season 1 of Orange is the New Black the morning after a raucous birthday party in my early twenties while I nursed a wicked hangover. The show (while problematic in many ways) was gripping, and the large ensemble cast and intricately woven storyline far easier to follow and digest when I could watch several episodes at a time. It was a delightful distraction from my throbbing headache without the eye strain of reading a book.
Since that fateful morning-after, binging has since become a soothing activity for me even when I’m not hungover. The immersion and distraction is delightful. It keeps me in the present moment when I’m anxious, something that’s usually easier said that done. I focus more clearly on the details of a story and takes me outside myself.
But back to Boardwalk Empire. Similar to Orange is the New Black, the show benefits from binging, in my opinion. Organized crime shows are always tricky for me to follow because it’s all old dudes who look alike and young dudes who look alike talking around what they actually mean. There’s always so many characters and conspiracies and details to keep track of that I forget week-to-week. I’d watched a few episodes when it originally aired, but it didn’t capture me. I simply wasn’t swept up week-to-week. Now, able to binge it without marketing hype or internet chatter or waiting for next Sunday, I can revel in the story details, appreciate the acting subtleties more, and come to my own conclusions about what I think of the series as a whole without a barrage of professional and amateur critics chiming in on social media.
And all of these things: the character development across an entire season of a show; the attention to detail from historical time periods or specific places; the nuances of dialogue specific to a character’s motivations and desires; they are fucking hard to make. The writers and actors of Hollywood, alongside the professional crew and production teams who help bring the stories to life, are the ones who make this happen.
So to hear that their labor has been disrespected for so long? Given what it’s done for me (and my mental health), the joy and relaxation and exhilaration I’ve experienced? The studio execs are despicable, sure, but it’s heartbreaking. Those of us who create the stories that we as a culture love to lose ourselves in deserve to make a living off of those of us who are binging those stories, no matter when or where we’re watching. To know that these writers and actors make pennies while the executives make millions in bonuses alone? It’s nauseating.
As with all things, we can hold two things as true at once: that binging TV shows can be delightful while also harmful to others. I don’t know that that means that binging a TV series that took months if not years of blood, sweat, tears, money, and creative energy is always bad. I’ve yet to hear the WGA or SAG-AFTRA tell consumers not to stream or binge TV or movies. So I continue to soothe my own anxieties about starting a new job this fall (!!) with episodes of Boardwalk Empire when I have the time. Even if that anxiety-soothing is now, as I understand it, what also fuels studios who insist that writers and actors aren’t entitled to a cut of the profits their work has made.
I didn’t live in an area growing up that had a huge union presence. Much of what I learned about labor laws and labor history has been in my adulthood. I was on strike for six weeks with Columbia’s UAW grad student union back in 2021. And let me tell you—being on strike is fucking miserable, even if I didn’t have the bigwigs literally destroy the trees that shaded me while picketing. You don’t do it unless you need to. You don’t do it unless your ability to earn a living wage under safe and appropriate conditions has been jeopardized. You don’t strike for fun. You strike because your anxiety and anger, as well as the anxiety and anger of the collective, can no longer tolerate the status quo. And you do it because you want better for the future.
We all deserve a right to make a fair and appropriately scalable living wage no matter what we specialize in, where we live, or what career path we choose. Even if it’s Hollywood, even if it’s a construction site. We can’t feel secure within ourselves without it.
And so for now, I stream on. But I plan to donate where I can to the union strike funds that are helping smaller actors, writers, and creators stay afloat while fighting the good fight. And I suggest that, if you can, you do the same.