We're Fighting With TikTok
Does packaging up bits of TV for mass consumption via social media cheapen them?
On Oct. 3, Paramount Plus did something that I initially thought was a disgusting atrocity but that someone who works in marketing and gets paid more than me thought was a good idea (and so it probably is): It posted all of Mean Girls on TikTok in 23 parts.
I have an appreciation for Paramount Plus — mostly due to its valiant effort to reboot Criminal Minds sans Matthew Gray Gubler — but no one is searching “Paramount Plus” on TikTok to see what that company is up to. Like many brand social media campaigns, the minds behind this ploy were relying on people stumbling across these clips via the algorithm, tags or searching something somewhat related. They’re hoping that as you scroll through videos of your favorite influencer making soup, a Swiftie conspiracy theory, and a deep dive into the relationship history of a celeb you haven’t thought about in decades, you’ll land on a random clip of Regina George and find yourself re-hooked.
While posting an entire movie for free in itty bitty parts for people to watch on their iPhones seemed a bit bananas to me, being fed TV shows and movies in clips is nothing new. If I scroll through my TikTok feed (or Instagram explore page, or even Twitter), there’s a good chance the algorithm is going to feed me a less-than-two-minute scene from shows like Gilmore Girls or The Office or, occasionally, a piece of entertainment I’ve never seen before. Sometimes, these clips can help a brand new audience discover a show or remind people to rewatch. Earlier this year, clips of Maid took over TikTok, helping the show that originally came out in 2021 gain a resurgence, boosting it back into Netflix’s top 10 list.
Mean Girls has been dubbed the most quotable movie of the century, celebrated recently by the likes of Ariana Grande and is now getting a movie based on the musical… which is based on the movie (which is based on a book!). All this to say, if you come across an out-of-context video of queen Lizzy Kaplan asking, “Did you have an awesome time? Did you drink awesome shooters, listen to awesome music?” you’ll probably have some sense of context.
The same, of course, can’t be said for all movies/shows that pop up on our social media feeds. Take earlier this year, when I, among many others, came across a clip of Rob Lowe trying to give chest compressions on a man frozen solid and promptly breaking him like an icicle. My first thought was “WTF is going on” followed up with “should I watch this show?” I pretty quickly decided no I would not be watching 9.1.1: Lone Star — I’m a busy lady with actual years of Law and Order, House and Monk to rewatch before I take on another procedural. But I considered it for five minutes more than I would have had I not seen Rob’s panicked face after hearing the crunch of a man’s chest cavity. Still, I imagine there are die hard Lone Star fans out there who wanted justice for their show, which was reduced to an internet meme for people like me to gawk over. Because, no matter how engaging a clip is, it probably can’t capture the magic of a television show you love.
When I see clips pop up of the shows I have rewatched and rewatched, I jump to the defense of all the feelings, actions and dialogue that didn’t fit into that one scene that, because of social media, has become thousands of people’s main point of reference for the show. For example, do I think the Gossip Girl Thanksgiving dinner scene in which chaos ensues over Jason Derulo’s “Whatcha Say” is a masterpiece that deserves to be played on repeat at the Louvre? Yes. Will I watch it in full every time it comes up on one of my social feeds? Of course I will. But even (teenage) Serena flirting with a congressional candidate right in front of his wife, or Blair shoving camembert in her mom’s face to prove she’s pregnant can’t capture everything I love about that show — and I hate for someone randomly scrolling through social media to get just a glimpse and never give it a chance.
But that doesn’t even compare to the protectiveness I feel for these shows when I see fan edits and mashups — online creators themselves putting their own spin on the scenes I have watched over and over. For example, if you read my O.C. essay from a few weeks ago, you know I feel very passionately about the perfect use of Matt Pond PA’s “Champagne Supernova” cover during Seth and Summer’s Spiderman kiss. Imagine my HORROR when I was minding my business the other day, and my TikTok algorithm tortured me with this scene with another song playing over it. And not just any song, but one that I’ve heard on repeat on the platform. A clip I hold dear had been minimized to simple fodder for another trend. It felt akin to seeing Keith Haring’s art on a candle at Target. I mourned how much the edit was straying from the original source — stripped down to something I don’t recognize, devoid of what made me love it in the first place. Justice for Matt Pond PA, I thought. Justice for Alexandra Patsavas, the iconic music supervisor of The O.C. (and Gossip Girl, Grey's Anatomy, Mad Men and the Twilight movies among many others)! Justice for Adam Brody who begged to be put right-side-up as all the blood rushed to his brain while filming this scene!
I also worry that these clips dilute my ability to rewatch shows. If I can find one user who posts countless clips of The Mindy Project’s best scenes — everything from Danny finding her at the top of the Empire State Building to her explaining to her accountant that her brand is “sassy but banagable brat” — why would I spend my time wading through all the parts of the show I don’t care about or like?
But mostly, social media packaging up these bits of TV for mass consumption cheapens them, removing all the joy of living in a pretend world with beloved characters. No laugh at a 30-second clip can compare to the pure joy of sitting down with a friend and showing them a show that has been so influential for me and watching them begin to love it too. A show can bring us together, allowing us to admire — and criticize — collectively. Watching expands your world and introduces you to new ideas. Social media is fragmented, not the blanket that a full-bodied show is. If you've already seen a show, these clips can be a fun way to revisit favorite scenes, or hear how other viewers are interpreting them differently. But without context, as a stand-alone form of entertainment, they don’t come close to comparing to the original.
Again, there’s a bright side to pieces of TV scattered across social media: They may be actually hooking some new viewers. I recently listened to an interview with the Death Cab for Cutie’s lead singer Ben Gibbard in which he reflected on a question he got during a Q&A a few years back: How do you feel that so many new fans only know Death Cab’s music because The O.C.? Ben said it was clear that the questioner wanted Ben to say that real fans knew them for so much more. Instead he said that there’s no wrong way to discover music.
“It’s not a contest, it’s not a race,” he continued. “Especially in indie rock circles and cool kid circles there’s this notion that there’s a better way to find out about art or music, that there’s a more pure way to do it and I just don’t believe that for one second.”
Despite my grumblings when I see someone ask “what’s this movie?” in the comment section of a clip from The White Lotus, I know this is true. I may have watched some of these shows when they were airing back in the day, or because they featured an actor I love or because a friend said I’d like it. And those are no better ways to discover a new show than TikTok or Instagram is. I just hope that commenter pulls up HBO Max and gets to experience the full thing.
We live in a world where a 16-year-old can discover a teen drama from the late 1990s and relate to it, perhaps more than they could a show about people their age that’s coming out now. Nowadays, if someone tells me I missed out on a series, I can pull it up on a streamer in a few minutes, as opposed to having to wait for reruns or Netflix to send me the physical DVD. And I can trust that my TikTok algorithm will probably send me a clip of a show I’ll like.
We’re lucky to be able to share media we love with friends and strangers alike so easily — and if one result is that is that someone will discover Dawson’s Creek via a clip of James Van Der Beek’s ugly cry, maybe that’s okay.
B Plot
Question: What’s the best pilot episode?
Mallika: Okay I know I am the most annoying person on the face of the earth but I will be saying the The O.C. It had car theft, lonely boys, hot girls next door, mean moms, wild parties, strong familial bonds, SEC violations, a soundtrack with The All-American Rejects and Black Eyed Peas — what more could you want? Even if I have mentioned this show too much recently, you have to respect my bravery for watching it for the first time in the year of our lord 2023 and being like “am I the only one who has a crush on Adam Brody?”
Rachel: It’s hard to beat “Welcome to the OC, bitch!” I fear, I too, will sound like a broken record answering this question. Most of the shows I think have incredible pilots I talk about in here all the time. Gilmore Girls makes you fall in love with Stars Hollow immediately, The Vampire Diaries gives us murder and romance, petty teen drama and lots of creepy fog. Veronica Mars hooks you immediately with a dead Amanda Seyfried and snarky Kristen Bell. Marevlous Mrs. Maisel opening with that wedding toast? Immaculate. Joss Whedon had the AUDACITY to make Buffy’s pilot a two-parter and you have to give him credit for that. I’m meandering so I don’t have to make a decision, aren’t I? I’ll say Grey’s Anatomy, which sets up a love affair and a friendship for the ages and takes you on a wild surgical ride. One of my favorite scenes of the series is Meredith running outside to puke after she resuscitated that annoying gymnist back to life.
C Plot
The studios suspended contract negotiations with SAG-AFTRA this week saying the gap between both parties was too large for it to be worth it to keep going. AP did an interview with Guild President Fran Drescher about what this means. Hopefully it means celebs will focus all their energy on demanding better wages for the masses and less on posting mind-numbingly uninformed Instagram stories.
Based on a True Story with Kaley Cuoco and Chris Messina is coming back for a second season and we will be watching. This better not be a fake out.
According to Sarah Hyland’s husband (Bachelor in Paradise bartender Wells Adams), everyone at ABC is very happy with the success of Golden Bachelor — which is following 72-year-old Gerry Turner on his journey to find love — meaning we could get a Golden Bachelor in Paradise. Adams “desperately” wants it and honestly so do we. Break out the shuffleboard!!!