There is a prevailing snobbery in film criticism that says: If you know the ending, it isn’t art. I call bunk.
The most consumed media on the planet—rom-coms, shonen anime, police procedurals, and dating shows—thrive on formula. We watch The Bachelor knowing exactly who wins (spoiler: usually the one with the good edit). We watch Law & Order knowing the bad guy will confess in the last five minutes.
As we move deeper into the era of AI-generated scripts and interactive stories, the role of popular media will only grow. It is the campfire of the digital age. We gather around the glow of our phones to watch the same silly dances, the same dramatic reveals, and the same heroic last stands. AsiaM.23.01.10.Song.Nan.Yi.And.Shen.Na.Na.XXX.1...
Entertainment is the water we swim in. It is the ritual that helps us disconnect from the anxiety of existence so we can reconnect with ourselves.
We are living in the golden age of maximalist entertainment. Between the streaming wars, the podcast boom, and the algorithm feeding us short-form dopamine, we have more popular media at our fingertips than any civilization in history. Yet, we often find ourselves scrolling for 45 minutes, watching nothing, because we are paralyzed by choice. There is a prevailing snobbery in film criticism
You are not "rotting your brain" because you read a fan fiction instead of War and Peace . You are not intellectually inferior because you watched Love Is Blind instead of the latest A24 art-house horror film.
The Great Escape: Why We Crave “Brain Off” Content (And Why That’s Not a Bad Thing) We watch The Bachelor knowing exactly who wins
The text is dead; long live the paratext. Popular media has become a shared lexicon. When you say, "That’s what she said," or "I am the one who knocks," or "I’m just a girl," you aren't quoting a show. You are using pop culture as a shorthand for human emotion.