Clinging to the days when “filler episodes” meant character depth, not wasted airtime.

For the past several weeks, I have watched shows that first aired about twenty years ago, such as Criminal Minds and One Tree Hill. This was the first time I watched these characters. It was interesting to watch characters like Spencer Reid spewing statistics out of nowhere and Peyton Sawyer going through something tragic yet dramatic. 

As I watched, I realized I liked the style of shows back then better than what we have now: the pacing, the character depth, the sheer number of episodes I could get wrapped up in at once. These old shows were not perfect, but they had something today’s ten-episode “limited series” just can’t replicate. That is, the patience to let you know the characters as if they were part of your life, not just scrambled bullet points in a show writer’s notes. 

For instance, in Gilmore Girls, Rory Gilmore was not just “the academic one.” There was so much more to her, like her awkwardness, stubbornness and ambitiousness. She could be a little snobby, and occasionally prone to terrible romantic decisions. Rory had quirks and contradictions that made her feel like an actual human we viewers knew in real life. 

Compare that to Belly from The Summer I Turned Pretty, who does not have the same layers. Where’s the sense that if you sat across from her at Luke’s Diner, she could hold a conversation beyond the Fisher family? Watching a character like Rory felt like watching someone grow up in real time, which is why people rewatch the show annually, to familiarize themselves again with the ongoing events of her life. 

Newer attempts at character-driven young adult dramas try to create these multidimensional characters, like Jackie in My Life with the Walter Boys, and while I can see the intention, it is not the same. Jackie is more likable and less insufferable than Belly. Although we do get to see she has more going for her beyond her love interests, even she does not have the kind of depth characters used to be given back in the day and is stuck being seen as just the academically responsible orphan girl. 

It is like the writers know they only have ten episodes and cannot waste time letting Jackie sit with her thoughts or do something that does not advance the plot of her love ordeal with the Walter brothers. She is a protagonist, but she is not a person. I think that is the biggest difference for me, that old shows treated characters like people you lived alongside for years.

Another thing I like about older shows is that I can throw them on in the background while doing any task and still follow the plot. One Tree Hill is a good example of this, where I could have somehow half-watched season 4 while folding socks and still know who was mad at who and who was about to play a dramatic high school basketball game like NBA scouts were watching. 

These shows were not terrified of filler and understood that not every scene needs to be earth-shattering. Sometimes Gilmore Girls’ Rory and Lorelai just sat around making pop culture jokes, and that was enough. These old shows give me nostalgia for an era I did not even properly grow up in, although I caught the end with shows like Teen Wolf, Riverdale and Once Upon a Time. 

Back then, a season had about twenty-two episodes. Now it is more around ten episodes, if that. Even if each episode is the same length as the episodes back then, you do not get the same depth. Ten episodes means the writers do not have the luxury of dilly-dallying. Instead, you get a streamlined sprint from pilot to finale, where every scene has to “matter,” and ironically, that makes the whole thing feel like it does not matter at all. 

I still enjoy some ongoing shows. I will continue to watch Grey’s Anatomy, even though I only truly loved the first ten seasons, and now we are somehow in season twenty-something. I will always enjoy Outlander. It captures that older style of storytelling with long seasons, deep character exploration, and journeying with the characters.

I understand actors, writers and crews need work-life balance. No one is asking for a return to the gruelling schedules of the network era, where everyone lived on set and seasons stretched on for twenty-four episodes just because. However, there needs to be a middle ground. Imagine if modern shows had fifteen episodes instead of ten, giving characters breathing room to let us get to know them as if they were actual people. Or even if writers leaned into creative workarounds, with split seasons, character-centric specials and bonus content? This would give us a sense of depth without demanding unsustainable schedules.

Maybe this is why I keep circling back to the older stuff. Criminal Minds, with its endless parade of serial killers, still feels like comfort TV because the characters are more than just their jobs. Reid’s nerdiness, Garcia’s quirks and Morgan’s charm are all attributes that stuck with me. Not because the show was revolutionary, but because it gave them room to exist. One Tree Hill was not just about high school basketball. It was about watching people grow up, screw up and change over hundreds of episodes. Even when the writing veered into absurd territory, it was forgivable because the characters felt like they were family to me.

At the end of the day, I want characters who feel like friends. I want seasons long enough to let me live alongside them. I need shows that I can put on in the background, step away to make dinner, and still come back knowing exactly what is happening. That does not mean the plot is simple, but instead that I know the characters so well I could write the scene myself. I hope one day we can balance depth with modern work-life realities. Until then, I will be spending a lot more time in Tree Hill, Stars Hollow and the Behavioural Analysis Unit (BAU).