However, this abundance has a dark underbelly: the homogenization of the algorithm. To keep you scrolling, platforms favor content that is familiar over content that is challenging. The result is a vast ocean of “gray noise”—mediocre true-crime docuseries, forgettable reality dating shows, and eight-part thrillers that should have been two-hour movies.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the cinema. Popular media is currently suffering from Franchise Necrosis. Theatrical releases have become assembly lines for IP (Intellectual Property): prequels, “requels,” cinematic universes, and live-action remakes of animated classics. Barbenheimer (2023) was a cultural exception that proved the rule—audiences are starving for original, mid-budget movies for adults, but studios refuse to make them, chasing the phantom of a $2 billion superhero crossover. nwoxxxcollectionalbum62zip
The Marvel Cinematic Universe, once a masterclass in serialized storytelling, has become homework. To understand The Marvels, you need to have seen two Disney+ shows, the previous Captain Marvel, and Secret Invasion. Entertainment has shifted from an escape to an obligation. However, this abundance has a dark underbelly: the
Why is entertainment content and popular media so addictive? Neuroscience offers clues. Dopamine, the neurotransmitter associated with pleasure and reward, is triggered by novelty and unpredictability. Social media platforms exploit this through "variable rewards" (Will the next swipe be funny? Shocking? Sad?). Streaming services eliminate friction; autoplay removes the decision to stop watching. Nowhere is this more evident than in the cinema
Furthermore, popular media acts as a "social surrogate." In an increasingly isolated world, following the storyline of a TV show or tracking a celebrity’s drama provides a sense of belonging. We bond over spoilers. We build communities around "theory crafting" for shows like Stranger Things or Succession. Entertainment has become the new religion, providing shared rituals (premieres, finales) and moral debates.
Remember the “water cooler” show—Game of Thrones, Lost, The Sopranos? Those are dying. With shows dropping entire seasons at once and algorithms tailoring individual feeds, there is no singular popular culture anymore. You are in your own personalized reality bubble.
This fragmentation has a social cost. You can no longer assume a coworker has seen the same Super Bowl ad or the same episode of The Office. Instead, we have niche fan armies on Reddit and Discord—intensely loyal, but isolated from the mainstream. Popular media has become incredibly personalized, but less social.