2 hours ago
8
Much like Keri Russell and probably all my friends’ dads, Netflix really wants me to watch The Diplomat right now. Like, really wants me to. The problem is, I don’t want to watch The Diplomat. This doesn’t seem to matter to Netflix.
Netflix wants me to watch The Diplomat so badly, I can’t even have 10 seconds for a little cry after finishing Adolescence without being forced to dive for the remote to stop Netflix autoplaying the trailer for The Diplomat. I timed it; Netflix has decided 10 seconds is enough time for you to wallow in your feelings, reflect on society, and credit the hundreds of people who spent years making that show, before you need to be directed to more content, more content, MORE CONTENT.
It’s not just Adolescence. It actually doesn’t seem to matter what I choose to watch; Netflix offers The Diplomat. Robert Eggers’ The Northman? Try The Diplomat, Netflix tells me 10 seconds into the credits. Dune: Part Two? You’ll love The Diplomat. The Brutalist? Kpop Demon Hun– Just kidding.
I don’t mind autoplay as a feature when I’m watching something episodic and throwaway; if I finish an episode of The Simpsons and another one starts, I’m rarely mad about it. My gripe is with the streamers who decide you are ready to move on to something else seconds after the final credits roll.
Netflix seems to give you more space after certain shows and films: I got two full minutes of credits at the end of The Godfather Part II before, you guessed it – HOW ABOUT THAT DIPLOMAT. The only thing I have found that Netflix will not interrupt the credits of at all is, hilariously, the 2015 animated film Minions – maybe because those cute little guys do funny stuff while all those pesky names pass on by. Which is a lesson for Francis Ford Coppola: chuck some bloopers in next time.
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It’s not just Netflix. My partner recently streamed Jurassic Park on Binge and the credits had barely begun when he was warned Below Deck would start in 10 seconds unless he intervened. I didn’t get to see the end of Barbarian, which continues through the credits, because I didn’t know where the remote was when Prime decided I wanted to watch The Meg.
I even timed this one – twice – because I was so shocked by it: there is a four-second gap between the message “In memory of the more than six million Jews murdered” shown at the end of Schindler’s List, and Binge telling me it’s about to put on NCIS. Spielberg’s name hadn’t even shown up in the credits yet.
While writing this, I have learned you can actually turn autoplay off on most streamers. This is a petty gripe with, it turns out, a simple solution. But my gripe is more about the principle of the thing. I want to live in a world where art still makes us feel things, and I want our capacity for feeling to be respected – rather than treated as an annoying interruption by giant tech companies who profit from our attention. It is part of the enshittification of everything. Chocolate bars are shrinking, AI has ruined Google, everything is content and none of it makes you feel anything.
All the streamers say they use autoplay to show us more of what we want to see – but scientists have found that people who turned autoplay off on Netflix also spent less time watching Netflix. So spare a whole 10 seconds to ask yourself – is autoplay for us or for them?
