Whether we want it or not, most of us have succumbed to the power of the series. A phenomenon that had its revival more than twenty years ago, when classics such as The Sopranos (1999) or The Wire (2002) appeared, works of indisputable quality that paved the way for many others. All of them were led by charismatic and unforgettable characters, and their plots were solid and perfect, a work of narrative engineering. The cinema, somehow, seemed to have reached the series, thus legitimizing actors, scriptwriters and television directors, previously little or not valued.
However, these series, although they revolutionized the medium narratively, have hardly offered innovations in terms of what, simplifying things, formally characterizes cinema: editing and mise-en-scène. Despite this, there are many merits. They were able to build complex universes over tens of hours, in such a way that the viewer lived immersed in a type of experience that movies, in general, could not offer. On the other hand, the series honed scriptwriting techniques, developing plots and characters with long and fascinating arcs of transformation. But, at the same time, they were trapped by it. A dictatorship of the narrative took place, in which the multiple plots, the rhythm, the cliffhangers (end in suspense), the coups de effect, or the turning points, were an end in themselves. The shape of the story, the direction, was left aside.
If you take a look at most of the current series, you can immediately see that issues related to staging have become standardized. It is true that there are visually and aesthetically striking works, in the case of Severance (2022), with its cold and Kafkaesque atmosphere, or the chromatic and hallucinogenic delirium of Euphoria (2019). But for the most part, the series that we consume today do not show their own personality that goes beyond a striking aesthetic, saturated with colors, and an accelerated montage that prevents us from looking at the images. The underlying question, how to think specifically about each shot, a transcendental job, and not reuse hackneyed formulas, has been left aside. The primary purpose is to hook the viewer, which in itself has nothing wrong with it. However, this has caused the form to be relegated in favor of the hectic pace, the panic of losing the viewer.
Despite everything, and with still a lot to watch, there are some series that have their own style, many of them made by feature film directors. The most emblematic case is that of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, whose third season (2017) is the most radical and original work ever made for television. Lynch filmed a personal universe that in this season literally expands, forming galaxies, black holes and comets that describe the mysteries of this world that struggles not to be deciphered and where the plot is pierced, mutilated, until the device bursts. Thus, indelible, disturbing images remain, revealing a unique way of filming.
There are other series –far from Lynch, of course– that have also managed to have their own entity. I’m talking about the third season of Atlanta (2022), created by Donald Glover and directed by himself along with Hiro Murai. Originally the series told the story of a rapper and his manager, but in this season, which takes place in a good part of Europe, each episode does not follow the general plot and becomes a challenge and an enigma for the viewer. There are thus episodes of pure terror, other dreamlike ones reminiscent of Welles’ trial, and others that are legal fantasies where former slaves claim compensation for their past, thus ruining the whites. In essence, it is a rather conceptual series that deals with the same subject but using different formats: the experience of being African-American.
It is also possible to include the science fiction series Devs (2020), by Alex Garland, in which the director of Ex-machina demonstrates a sensitivity for the exquisite, almost minimalist image, which is in keeping with a leisurely and hypnotic rhythm. A director who makes us taste each plane. It is also necessary to mention the Small Ax series (2020) by Steve MacQueen, one of whose episodes is simply dedicated to a dance, to the filming of bodies in motion and the desire that is generated between them. Finally, comment on We Are Who We Are (2020) by Luca Guadagnino, a series of teenagers who live in an American base in Italy. Filmed without a precise narrative direction, it simply describes, in a formal exercise of great beauty and surprisingly fresh, the life of a group of erratic boys.
These are some few examples of series that show that it is possible to escape the dictatorship of storytelling and find a personal style to film stories. Series open to creativity in which it has been possible to portray a universe of its own, beyond the prefabricated product.
