Why can’t we stop watching misery-filled TV?

By?Rituparna Som

We’re watching a strange selection of shows today—none of them cheerful, most of them gruesome??

What?were they thinking? The 111 million viewers who?watched/are watching?Squid Game?on Netflix. A 10-episode series in a language most are unfamiliar with,?about desperate debt-ridden human beings being slaughtered in a series of elimination rounds disguised as?childhood games, all to win the ultimate jackpot of $38 million. Why are we so attracted to watch humanity suffer in such cruel ways? And what does that say about the kind of "content" we want to watch—now and tomorrow??

Squid Game?has been a huge success, critically and meme-wise. Image: Netflix

?A mirror of uncertain times?

Keeping aside the layered and obvious tropes of capitalistic greed, exploitation and deep chasms between the privileged and the marginalised,?Squid Game?also plays into the pop culture cliche with its meme-friendly costumes and sets. And ticks the K-drama conceits too—especially portraying the relationships between parents and children. However, most of the show's cultural digs missed most of the audience. Poverty among the elderly, the horrors of the Korean civil war that are still felt today, the repercussions of the Asian financial crisis in the late '90s are just a few that are alluded to in the story. The universal appeal, however, lies in the desperation of the characters—the uncertainty amid a hellish world, something we have become all too familiar with since the last two years of the pandemic.??

Although not a "horror" show, it is horrifying enough to elicit similar responses, in a similar vein to?Lord of the Flies?or even?Battle Royale. And like all forms of entertainment, including horror, there is resolution in the end. It's one of the main reasons why viewers are attracted to horror movies or shows like?Alice in Borderland,?3 %?and?Platform—they feel the horrible anxiety of the moment just like they might in real life, but unlike real life, they know the resolution is on its way just before the end credits. Some psychologists have even said that those who watch horror films have a better sense of resiliency than others and might be faring better in the pandemic.?

Not all agree, though. "In?Squid Game, there is conflict and excitement, and we are removed from them," says Mumbai-based psychologist Dr Seema Hingoranny. "Also, each challenge has its own form of resolution. However, I believe most people binge-watched the show, and that's?where I see a problem. Bingeing overloads your brain, and considering all of us have been through some form of mild psychological disturbance in the last two years, this is a?lot for us to take."?Hingoranny says she's seen many clients who have been troubled by the show in the last few months. "When we don't binge-watch, we allow ourselves to be grounded in reality once again, to be in the now. But?a show like?Squid Game?can trigger those who are extremely sensitive, bring about a chemical change in your body, and stop your brain from processing your personal life here and now."??

However, in moderation, Hingoranny does agree that the show's natural arc of redemption helps viewers reconcile their tenuous relationship with uncertain times.?Squid Game's popularity, therefore, hasn't just been Hallyu (Korean wave of entertainment); it's also been the pandemic,?where we want screens to reflect the absurd horror of the times and in the end resolve it, so that we can switch off the TV and think, OK, there's hope. It's why we can't get enough of serial killers, fictional and real, true crime docu-dramas, even shows like?Succession, an intensely complex layering of relationships, all of which ultimately question 21st century humanity.

Gore-fest?Hellbound?beat even?Squid Game?in the ratings. Image: Netflix

Why Hallyu is buzzing?

Human beings love patterns—we want to spot them everywhere, using them to make sense of our existence. It's what platforms and algorithms use to 'curate' the content we watch. And it's what has predicted the trajectory of our interests thus far. "Fifteen years ago, it was music-based content," says Samira Kanwar, VP-Content, VICE APAC, of content waves in India. "Then it was comedy. Now it's crime. Globally, it's Hallyu that's sweeping the world, where South Korean content has gotten into our mainstream consciousness in a huge way. And that means global content travels. Content that deals with fear—those emotions are far more universal. Humour is very subjective and culturally specific—it can't travel well across language barriers. But love like in K-drama, action like in the '80s and '90s movies with Jackie Chan and Jet Li, and now crime are far more universal."?

With technology changing the way we access entertainment, watching more than just what's produced in the US or UK, or the English language, we are also open to a much larger arena of what can be made and what can be viewed. The lens has moved away from an America-centric POV, and everyone is curious about where it can be focussed on next. Full-fledged fantasy realms (The Witcher), plucky heists (Money Heist), video game dystopian anime (Danganronpa)—anything can be the next significant global phenomenon. "When one show does well, everyone wants to replicate the formula. Right now Korean content is attractive, so everyone wants a piece of it. It's partly why a show that was conceptualised 10 years ago took so long to get made," says Kanwar.

The Witcher?has been one of the most popular fantasy series. Image: Netflix

The future of content?

Platforms like Netflix and Amazon Prime Video are commissioning shows within that nebulous space of formulae, that have proved successful while also being experimental. Like Netflix's?Hellbound, another beauty from South Korea that proved to be even more successful than?Squid Game?in its first week. It has nothing in common with the latter, except that they're both dystopian futures set in South Korea. In?Hellbound, a floating face appears to certain citizens predicting their death and destination to hell. It is ruthless in its portrayal of crowd-sourced justice and herd mentality, with the differences between the have and have-nots subtly and cruelly highlighted. It's a brilliant show that challenges narrative and character development, and like all good shows, it questions what it means to be human, with a promise of a second season. It follows the formula of the world's attention on South Korea but is unpredictable in its storytelling.????

And that is where tomorrow's content lies—that space between formulaic and something unpredictable. VICE APAC has made?Indian Predator, a show on India's most violent criminals, which will premiere on Netflix next year. "True crime shows are never only about how the crime was committed; they're more about the why. We want to understand what went wrong—was it the person, the system, or a combination of the two. And we want the resolution in the end," says Kanwar, explaining VICE's process in conceptualising and making the show.?

True crime, just like horror, creates that neat circle of fear and resolution, earning more fans during the pandemic. With Vice's journalistic approach,?Indian Predator?would not have seen the light of day in mainstream viewing 10 years ago. Today, it strikes that sweet spot between formula and unpredictability, opening the arena for more surprises. Where we can forget that sophisticated algorithms have predicted what we are watching, instead looking for some reflection of our reality on screen and watching the magic of resolution and redemption relieve our real-life anxieties. If it works in reel life, surely some of the magic dust can rub off on real life too?