Previously on ‘Severance’: Who the Hell Can Remember?

It’s a new year, so I suggest — no, command — that every single TV purveyor (especially big streamers) follow this resolution: Before a new season of a scripted show drops, release a meaningful and meaty “what happened in the previous season(s)” clip that is clearly labeled as such.

We have much bigger problems right now, of course. But among the greatest annoyances in the current TV landscape are shorter seasons and briefer overall runs—troubling developments that dismay a lot of people, based on conversations with other critics, creators and viewers. Programs frequently start off slow, take a while to establish their premises and relationships, and then end, often just when things are just starting to cook. Layered on top of that is another worsening trend: shows are taking much, much longer breaks between seasons.

So we end up with this common worst-case scenario: A show that debuted three full years ago comes back, to be greeted by exhausted mumbling. “I guess… things happened in season one? What were they, exactly?” Even if the show was liked, loved or buzzed about, our memories are frequently foggy in many areas. Anyway: I’m looking at you, Severance!

Severance is not a worst-case scenario in terms of creativity. The show itself is fine — as far as I recall (which is not far). I sure wish I could recall more than the basics of the premise, the dance party, and the great John Turturro saying, “You smug motherfucker!”

Severance is also far from the only offender in this arena. The Boys knocked out its first two seasons relatively quickly, but then two-year breaks became the norm. That’s how long we’ve had to wait between recent seasons of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, The Gilded Age and Yellowjackets, too. Andor and Peacemaker return in 2025, after dipping out for three years. A big winner in the “remember me?” sweepstakes — which frequently involve high-profile, star-studded or ambitious dramas — may be the Nicole Kidman vehicle Nine Perfect Strangers, which is returning… some time!? When it wanders back, it’ll have been gone at least four years.

Stranger Things and The Handmaid’s Tale will offer up their swan songs this year; they debuted in 2016 and 2017, respectively. The breaks they took between seasons began to lengthen midway through their runs, which Handmaid’s tried to address with catch-up clips released before season four. Trouble is, there were ten of them — one-minute segments devoted to various key characters — on an overstuffed Hulu page with dozens of other behind-the-scenes extras. This was … not ideal.

While any given show might have explainable and justifiable reasons for being gone the majority of a presidential term—showrunner changes, complex special effects, industrywide strikes, pandemic delays, whatever—let me be crystal clear: As a viewer, I do not care. All I’m saying is, during that time frame, a decent amount of what occurred will have simply fallen out of my brain.

The Severance page on Apple TV+ contains various trailers and other promotional fare. But is there a substantial clip labeled “What happened in Severance season one”? No, there is not. Say what you will about the necessity or lack thereof of a second season of Squid Game: At least a three-minute summary of the first round of deadly games can be found on the show’s Netflix home page.

But most of the time, streaming platforms — which are often spending huge amounts on these shows — don’t supply useful, high-quality, easily located refreshers. I avoid trailers because I’m anti-spoiler. And I will scream if you say the “previously” that kicks off the first episode of a new season is sufficient. Nope. Maybe for a light comedy without much serialization. But much of the time, a brief, bolted-on “previously” doesn’t cut it, mostly because too much time has passed. If the writers and creative team went to the trouble of crafting an intricate, exciting or thoughtful plot last season, remind me of that. Don’t just fling out a drive-by of the biggest twists and turns: Tell me the story again in an elegant, involving and concise way!

We make time for these shows in the first place because we want to go on an emotional ride with their characters. What were their relationships like last season? What was going on in their minds, hearts, souls? Who wanted to stab/sleep with/kidnap whom, and why? Re-invest me psychologically in all of that, not just the plot! Remind me why I gave a shit about the people to whom the plot happened, and in doing so, help me begin to give a shit again.

This is not something that, in the history of TV, has ever happened automatically. It takes work to make audiences engage in a new series, and then re-engage in subsequent seasons. I can’t say this emphatically enough: Especially in an era where programs feel more slight, tame and disposable overall, and in which long breaks have become the norm, a 30-second “previously” is not going make me care about the characters, their desires, their world or the stakes all over again. And I want to care!

The lack of clearly labeled “What Happened Before Because Who the Hell Can Remember All That” clips — those very basic sales tools — are too rarely spotted in the wild. Which tends to confirm a sneaking suspicion many of us have: that many of the programs the big conglomerates drop semi-randomly are, to the corporate mind, an afterthought. Content. Something to have on in the background while people do other things.

There’s still a lot of excellent TV being made, of course. Some of it is indeed hard to forget. But generally, shorter runs mean any given show will often have less meaningful world-building or compelling momentum. Programs with shorter seasons end up driven by plot plot plot, with character development getting crammed in around the edges (if at all). These trends — beloved by algorithms and some executives, not so much by viewers and creators — more or less guarantee that people don’t invest in many shows the way they did when seasons were 13 or 16 or 22 episodes long. I don’t think I’m alone in feeling more ambivalence about a lot more TV programs these days—which, if they don’t get canceled too soon, return whenever they feel like it. None of this inspires loyalty.

Given the additional demands on our attention, viewers today need to be even more skillfully and energetically lured back in. Not ignored, not taken for granted, not expected to do homework on our own time. So, for the love of all that is holy, if your megacorp spent a kajillion bucks on a season of TV, spend a few pennies more to entice me to return to it. Or when it comes to paying that monthly streaming fee, I might just say, “Forget it.”