The following is an excerpt from JAMES PONIEWOZIK | December 16, 2015 | Nytimes.com |
At some point during Netflix’s “Sense8” — a gorgeous, ridiculous series about eight strangers scattered across the world who use a psychic connection to aid one another in fights and at one point have a virtual orgy — I had to ask myself: What am I watching?
I didn’t mean that the way I usually do when reviewing a baffling show. I meant what, in a definitional sense, was this maximalist, supersized, latticework story? A mini-series? A megamovie? To put it another way: Is Netflix TV?
On the one hand, sure. These days, when newspapers have video-production studios and you can watch “The Walking Dead” on your phone, “TV” is a pretty inclusive club. On the other hand, streaming shows — by which here I mean the original series that Netflix, Amazon and their ilk release all at once, in full seasons — are more than simply TV series as we’ve known them. They’re becoming a distinct genre all their own, whose conventions and aesthetics we’re just starting to figure out.
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