Why Less is Always More in Series TV

Time critic James Poniewozik touches on something big in his new column on Lost. Poniewozik links the ABC mystery-drama's resurgent quality to its unusual schedule: Following the poorly-received third season, producers decided to shorten future seasons to 16 episodes, from the usual 22, and to make season six the final one.

Where previous seasons tended to be "slack and digressive," the current season, which was further shortened by the writers' strike, has been "focused and propulsive," he writes. And he also likes the idea of wrapping it all up after two more years: "In a show with a finite run, actions can have consequences, major characters can die, questions can be answered."

Limited-run series, he concludes, "may just offer a way forward for TV."

Yes! I've been beating this drum for a while: In episodic television, you can either have quantity or quality, but you can't have both -- not for very long, anyway. There's simply no such thing as a 22-episode show that stays truly, consistently great for more than a season or two. (Well, Seinfeld and The Simpsons both managed to string together three or four impeccable seasons in a row, but that has to be the outer limit.) Long-run series require too many writers, and decentralized, tag-team writing is antithetical to the singularity of artistic vision that makes shows like Deadwood or The Sopranos great.

Just look at the current crop of must-see TV. 30 Rock, while still funny, is already losing its juice. Friday Night Lights had utterly lost the thread before it went on hiatus. Heroes came so unglued, its creator felt the need to apologize publicly. (And, no, I'm not being paid to shill NBC programming; these just happen to be the ones I watch.)