Cinematic Masterminds and the Art of the Miniseries
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
With the release of Barry Jenkins’ The Underground Railroad today (of which I aim to cover for Monday), I wanted to just take a quick look at why some of the finest filmmakers out there would see fit to test out the art of making miniseries. I want to avoid television for the most part here (although I am working on integrating television into Film Fatale more and more, and this is one such step), and focus primarily on miniseries and TV movies, but especially on the former. TV movies are similar enough to how theatrical film function, but the notion of the miniseries feels like the happy medium between both worlds. Films are more concise, and are temporary getaways from life; they can focus on commentary, art, entertainment, or all of the above. Television is a little more immersive, given its divided nature, where each episode can be digested whenever a viewer decides; if you’re a binge watching completionist like myself, then you basically get a very long film (of sorts) anyway.
Television allows for slower burns, more gradual story telling and development, and the opportunity to take however long to make characters evolve and situations unravel. It’s a bit more of a luxury than the confinements of film, but it is also easier to completely lose one’s way while developing a television show (see a number of classics-turned-duds like Homeland, Dexter, and the like). Since the Golden Age of Television (from the late ‘90s until pretty much now), the medium has become far more cinematic, taking inspiration from precursor shows like The Twilight Zone, Hill Street Blues, and Twin Peaks (which prioritized meta commentary, grit, and surreal art over the conventions of television); this of course got kicked into overdrive once HBO darlings like Oz, The Sopranos, The Wire and Six Feet Under came out (actually, let’s not forget The Larry Sanders Show). However, that’s just the evolution of television (in the briefest of explanations).
Berlin Alexanderplatz.
What about the miniseries specifically? Well, a number of filmmakers (specifically auteurs) realized you could make films for television, and that they could be as long as one desired. You had a ton of arthouse visionaries like Ingmar Bergman (Fanny and Alexander, Scenes from a Marriage), Krzysztof Kieślowski (Dekalog) and Rainer Werner Fassbinder (World on a Wire, Berlin Alexanderplatz) that were experimenting with the limitless natures of television (especially in Europe, where any of the above films could be seen). England was following suit in their own way, with single season gems like The Singing Detective and Brideshead Revisited (the 1981 version); this was always in line with the succinct nature of British television. At some point, both worlds converged. What is the difference between a longer film (split into episodes) on television, and a short miniseries? There are some clear cut examples, but sometimes the line certainly feels blurred.
Every decade, it feels like the middle ground between cinema and television gets more and more connected. Prime Suspect basically runs on hours-long episodic film “parts” each season. Band of Brothers is a sister project to Saving Private Ryan, with both Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks reunited to continue telling tales of the second World War. Small Axe is an anthology of five films distributed on television. A lot of these cases can elicit a series of questions. Otherwise, there is the dependable, straightforward miniseries: part film, and part show. One season of varying lengths to tell a story and resolve itself. Outside of cases like Big Little Lies that opt to continue for another season (and press their luck on overstaying their welcome), these series are more brief than entire shows, but have more room to breathe than standard films.
To me, this is the stomping ground for auteurs like Jenkins to really roam free. There’s not a long term commitment like ongoing series, but there is some narrative and artistic leeway (especially since television is currently in its prime). Miniseries are a bit of a mutt of visual mediums that I’m glad haven’t gone away; they could have been the remnants of both art forms experimenting, but instead it’s a whole storytelling of its own that has survived for decades.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.