Each year at this time I leaf through whichever issue of Entertainment Weekly has a preview of the fall TV season and look for new shows that Jennifer and I might like, as well as the return dates for the shows we already watch. As with so much else, this year is like no other. There is, for all intents and purposes, no fall TV season.
You’d never know that from reading or watching the entertainment media. They’re hyping the fall season at least as much as they ever have — but there’s just no there there.
I admit to having a distinct bias. What I look for when I scan the listings are relatively mature scripted dramas and the rare truly clever sitcom. We have no interest in either reality television or sports. That, it would seem, eliminates about 50% of what’s offered. And our requirement that a show be reasonably mature disqualifies almost everything else.
Some of the scripted shows we watched last season have been canceled, but even those that have been renewed won’t be making an appearance in the foreseeable future because production on those shows has been shut down due to the pandemic.
Further reducing our options is the fact that even among the few scripted shows that will be airing, many of the new ones aren’t available on the broadcast networks, or even on the extravagant number of streaming services that we subscribe to. They’re on Hulu, Quibi, Peacock, or one of an ever-growing horde of other paid services. I’m sorry; I refuse to spend more on streaming services than I do on my mortgage.
As we empty the DVR of shows we recorded last season, it’s not clear what Jennifer and I will do during that hour or so between getting into bed and turning out the light. We’re certainly not going to resort to cable news — there’s no amount of melatonin that would let me sleep through the night after listening to rants about the latest outrages from the White House. We may just turn back the clock and settle for a diet of reruns. A few episodes of The West Wing would feel pretty good about now.