94 Time April 25/May 2, 2022
strikes. Larry David let six years pass between
Seasons 8 and 9 of Curb Your Enthusiasm. This
kind of leeway is essential for high-concept se-
ries like Atlanta and Russian Doll, which swerve
between reality and surrealism, propelled by
heady ideas about identity, history, and time,
and would be doomed by an imperative to churn.
The first instinct of many fans in this age of
constant content might be to demand more of
the shows they love, soon enough to keep them
immersed in their televisual universe of choice.
But it’s not like we’re in danger of running out of
things to watch, now that TV produces some 500
scripted series annually. If our favorite shows
never took a year off, we’d have that much less
time to explore the dozens of new ones that pop
up each week. Awards might become as predict-
able as they were when broadcast networks dom-
inated the nominees; Modern Family took top
comedy honors at the Emmys five years in a row.
What’s good for creators is also good for view-
ers, at least when it comes to auteurist shows like
the ones returning this spring. Instead of racing
from one plot point to the next, we get to savor
season-long arcs. What’s more satisfying than an
endless stream of mediocre entertainment is a
story that holds our attention even when it’s off
the air. Ice cream expires. Our investment in Saul
and Kim? Not so much. in The season 5 finale of Better Call Saul,
antihero lawyer Saul Goodman (Bob Odenkirk)
and his colleague turned wife Kim Wexler (Rhea
Seehorn) stress-ate room-service sundaes in an Al-
buquerque hotel as a conflict with profound impli-
cations for their future raged in Mexico. Season 6,
back April 18 on AMC after a two-year hiatus,
picks up just hours later, as the remnants of their
dessert congeal on a rolling cart in the hallway.
Maybe it sounds frustrating, having to wait so long
for ice cream to melt that you forget about the anxi-
ety it symbolizes. Yet refreshing your memory of a
favorite series can also be a pleasure, like catching
up with an old friend. It’s customary to gripe about
long hiatuses between seasons, but the truth is:
I like when a show gives me time to miss it.
Largely because of pandemic-related produc-
tion shutdowns, the effects of which are still rip-
pling through release schedules, this spring will
see the return of many beloved shows that haven’t
aired in years. Along with Saul, April will bring
the first new episodes since 2019 of Netflix’s Rus-
sian Doll, a trippy love letter to New York City
starring Natasha Lyonne, and HBO’s Emmy-
winning Barry, which casts Bill Hader as a lonely
hit man who catches the acting bug. Family sci-fi
juggernaut Stranger Things will also have been
absent for three years when the first half of its
two-part fourth season drops over Memorial Day
weekend. And Donald Glover’s Atlanta had been
off the air for almost four years by the time its
third season debuted in March.
But hiatus creep didn’t originate with COVID.
Ever since premium cable and streaming decou-
pled American TV schedules from advertising
calendars, those platforms have had the freedom
to function more like publicly funded overseas
networks such as the BBC—where cult-classic
sitcom Absolutely Fabulous could run for three
seasons in the early ’90s, take five years off, re-
turn for two more seasons, and then resurface
again in 2011 for a trilogy of 20th-anniversary
specials. Increasingly ambitious TV productions,
shot in multiple countries and with elaborate
special effects (like Apple’s Foundation), can also
increase the time required to create a season.
Such elaSticity in Scheduling can be great
for creators, the most distinguished of whom
might now make a new season of their show
whenever—and no sooner than—inspiration
ESSAY
Good TV comes
to those who wait
BY JUDY BERMAN
TIME OFF TELEVISION
I like
when a
show
gives me
time to
miss it