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Netflix, You've Gone Sludgy

What the HELL is going on with you? Are things OK at home? Are you in some kind of trouble? It's just... since series 4 ofcame out, you've been a little... 'lacklustre'?

Dear Netflix,

'Sup? Long time no speak! Mate, there's no easy way to say this so I'll just come out and... say it.

What the HELL is going on with you? Are things OK at home? Are you in some kind of trouble? It's just... since series 4 of House of Cards came out, you've been a little... 'lacklustre'?

Look, I'm not complaining, I'm just concerned. I feel as though I've been watching Liza Minnelli. One minute you're doing great. You're in Cabaret and that Liza with a Z shizzle. And then, suddenly, you're marrying David Gest. Woah, there!

Netflix, admit it, you've gone sludgy.

Don't recoil! I implore thee, do not cover thy ears with thy hands and go 'Lalala!'. Let me just talk you/thee through it. These are some of the latest Netflix 'original' (yes, those are ironic quotation marks) series you've unveiled of late:

  1. Love: Judd Apatow paints a picture of vaguely hipster American thirty-somethings feeling confused.
  2. Flaked: Will Arnett and Mark Chappell cycle aimlessly around Venice, California, being vaguely hipster forty-somethings coming onto trendier, but equally confused, twenty-somethings.
  3. Garfunkel and Oates: Two slightly perplexed but charmingly kookie thirty-somethings channel the Flight of the Conchords vibe.
  4. Master of None: I actually really enjoyed this. However, Netflix, even you can't get Aziz Ansari to disguise this as ANYTHING OTHER than trendy thirty-somethings being generally confused as they make home-made pasta.

Netflix, I love anxious, confused, hipster millennials. Hell, someday I hope to graduate from being confused and aimless to confused and aimless BUT wearing painfully cool dungarees. I'd love to stop worrying about my direction in life and just act in commercials/produce a radio show while I 'figure it out'. But I need something else, man, I can't watch episode upon episode of washed out tones, coffee shop settings and winklepickers until kingdom come.

All these series, as standalones, are fine. On the Sophie scale they range from 'meh' (I'm looking at YOU, Love) to 'fantabulous' (nice one, Master of None). But don't just release them all at once in one sludgy slur, I implore you! You're starting to make me feel queasy.

Don't forget, Netflix, that your are the spawner of original originals: House of Cards, Narcos, Orange is the New Black, Arrested Development (when you eventually got your paws on it). By all means, keep the faux-indie stuff, but let's have a bit of variety, yeah? Like, maybe a couple of series of dazed people with cute haircuts, and another couple with...plots?

You'll get through this, Netflix, I know you will. I mean look at Liza: she went from doing stuff on Australian Idol to being awesome in Arrested Development. There is hope, Netflix, there is hope.

Until then, amigo!


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