Happy Hallo-weekend (that’s a thing, isn’t it?), and welcome back to another edition of Buffering. Comcast issued its latest quarterly report card this morning, and the good news is that Peacock continues its steady-but-oh-so-slow subscriber growth: The service added another four million paying customers, bringing its total base to 28 million. Unfortunately, that still puts it roughly 10 million behind close rival Paramount+’s estimated domestic subscriber tally, and nowhere near what Hulu, Prime Video, and Netflix boast. Peacock also lost another half-billion dollars or so over the summer, but that’s a bit less than what it lost last summer and Comcast execs insist 2024 will be better. As for this week’s newsletter, we’re breaking format so that I can blather on a bit about some annoying trends in streaming right now, as well as a few things for which I am grateful. Thanks for reading, and if you’re headed to any costume parties over the next few days and you want to be respectful of the ongoing SAG strike, my colleague Jason Frank has you covered. –Joe Adalian

Reach Joe on Twitter @tvmojoe or email buffering@vulture.com.


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Apple TV+ on Tuesday became the latest streamer to hit subscribers with a substantial price increase, a move which sparked the usual flurry of outraged posts on social media platforms complaining about the inhumanity of it all, as well as pushback from folks who argued that Apple’s streamer was still a pretty decent bargain. In other words: Just another episode of People Are Kvetching: Streaming Edition. Like cable providers and broadcast networks before them, praising or criticizing streaming platforms has become one of our national pastimes. Buffering usually avoids these momentary kerfuffles in order to focus on the Big Picture of the streaming business … but not today. This week’s dispatch is devoted to airing a few of my petty grievances about streamers as well as a couple of small things that are currently bringing me joy. Since I hope to do a couple of these every year, the laws of journalism require some sort of catchy verbiage, so read on for the inaugural edition of Buffering’s Rants and Raves.

In general, it’s a good thing that almost every subscription-based streamer now includes an option for folks to pay less in exchange for sitting through some commercials. But there are signs streamers are moving quickly from “just a few painless minutes of ads to help us pay the bills” to “let’s see how much we can get away with.” This week, for example, Variety’s Brian Steinberg reported that so-called “pause ads”— so named because they pop up on screen whenever users stop streaming a show or movie— are becoming far more common. The concept isn’t new: DirectTV, Hulu, and other platforms have had them for at least five years, and Peacock introduced them at launch in 2020 (when it also offered a completely free version).

Per Steinberg, however, pause ads are now being used more often, and worse, some streamers are looking at ways to transform the still-frame textual ads of today into something pretty close to a more traditional video ad. If this actually happens, I’d expect significant consumer pushback: A key reason folks press pause on a show is so they can take a call or have a conversation with someone in the room. Video ads, even with no sound, feel like a violation of modern TV viewing norms. The same thing applies to the volume of ads. There’s a huge difference between sprinkling three to six minutes of commercials into an hour of viewing and upping the number of spots to nine, ten, or even more minutes, which is what you’ll find on some free streamers like Pluto TV. Subscription screamers haven’t gone there yet, but the trendlines are worrisome.

Again, none of this is to say that streamers shouldn’t be experimenting with different ad models and tweaking their ad loads. In the cable era, commercial-free cable networks such as HBO and Showtime were able to thrive on subscription fees alone because their business model didn’t require them to appeal to most viewers. (There’s a reason it was called “premium” TV.) But while Netflix once famously compared itself to HBO, it and the other major streamers simply aren’t in that business. They’re much more like basic cable networks now, in search of the same sort of scale those platforms once boasted. Offering ad-supported options allows services to keep prices (relatively) affordable. Thing is, if the streaming industry gets overly greedy or desperate — too many ads, an overeliance on intrusive gimmicks — it runs the risk of seriously diminishing the viewing experience for consumers at the same time it’s also hiking subscription fees and making fewer original shows. Seems like a good recipe for encouraging folks to find other forms of entertainment — or worse.

The three network-affiliated subscription streamers — Hulu (ABC), Paramount+ (CBS) and Peacock (NBC) — make a big deal out of the fact that you can stream primetime programming next-day on their platforms, which is good news if you are, say, a citizen of Bachelor Nation who doesn’t want to pay for cable. But what doesn’t get as much hype is the fact that the same streamers offer access to some of the most popular daytime talk shows — and that you can now watch the same day they air on linear. Episodes of ABC’s The View, for example, typically land on Hulu by 6 p.m. weekdays (Eastern time), per a spokeswoman for the show. Meanwhile, Peacock adds new episodes of The Kelly Clarkson Show every weekday evening; Paramount+ posts the latest installments of The Drew Barrymore Show and The Talk by primetime Monday through Friday; and Sherri Shepherd’s syndicated show streams same-day on YouTube, usually posting eps by 7 p.m. Eastern.

Obviously, all of these shows offer lots and lots of clips on YouTube, which is fine if all you really care about is your daily dose of Kellyoke or the latest bit of viral gold from Whoopi Goldberg. But watching full episodes is a different vibe, and if you’re willing to spend a few more dollars for ad-free tiers, streaming services offer a far better viewing experience. (One caveat: In general, streamers only tend to keep episodes on their platforms for about a week after the debut on regular TV, so watch fast.) While in years past, local TV stations would’ve howled at these programs being so easily accessible outside of the broadcast ecosystem, they’ve come to accept that the audience who watches daytime shows on broadcast TV is pretty distinct from streaming-centric viewers. And the extra exposure these shows get on streaming brings in more revenue and helps producers book better guests.

Folks in Hollywood have been griping for years about streamers keeping almost all viewing data under lock and key, and this year’s SAG and WGA strikes were prompted in part over the unions’ desire to get a better sense of how their members’ shows and movies were performing. But ratings aren’t the only thing where streamers stubbornly refuse to be transparent, or at least consumer-friendly. Take, for example, the madness surrounding the comings and goings of older TV shows from streaming libraries. While most services put out monthly lists of incoming and outgoing additions to their rosters, those lists often leave out classic shows. Hulu and Prime Video recently removed a ton of 20th Century Fox TV classics (including Ally McBeal, The Practice, and Hill Street Blues) and the only notice customers got was via tiny on-platform labeling which popped up one to two weeks before the shows vanished. Audiences who were mid-binge, or maybe taking a break from regular viewing of those shows, easily could’ve missed the limited heads-up and had no time to finish out watching the series before they departed.

The situation is even more frustrating with free ad-supported streamers, which might make viewers scroll through an endless row of “leaving soon” programs to find out if something is on the way out, if they even offer that courtesy. Plus, because they have so many titles and might not get opened as frequently as a paid service, it’s very easy to miss on-platform notices: I didn’t know the excellent 1970s drama Family was leaving Tubi — where I’d been watching it on and off —  until I saw a tweet about it. And as far as I know, it’s not currently streaming anywhere else.

Look, it’s understandable that streamers aren’t going to keep classic shows (or movies) on their platforms indefinitely. The cost pressures of the business are such that subscription streamers can’t keep paying for library shows that very few people watch, while even free streamers need to shuffle shows in and out so they can bring in “new” old shows with which to lure viewers. But is it that big of an ask for streamers (and the studios who distribute shows to said services) to adopt a set of best practices for how to let audiences know shows are leaving a platform, headed somewhere else, or exiting streaming altogether? It shouldn’t be that hard to give at least 30-to-60 days’ heads up to consumers, both on-platform and via some sort of running list — a blog or social media feed or even just a press release to the many, many sites which run posts about what’s new on various streamers. I’ve heard one reason platforms don’t post expiration notices on shows sooner is because sometimes negotiations on new licensing terms go to the last minute; indeed, that’s why Netflix once told members Arrested Development was leaving when it ultimately didn’t go anywhere. But isn’t it better to pleasantly surprise customers by telling them “never mind” about an expiring show rather than annoy them by removing something they like without real notice?

Similarly, all streamers should be better at advertising classic TV additions to their services: I was happy to see Hulu make a big deal out of the arrival of L.A. Law next month, but when the show landed on Prime Video in August, the Amazon-owned streamer stayed mum. Ironically, Prime and sibling service Freevee have the best assortment of well-known retro TV shows of any streamer around, which is something you’d think they’d want to brag about more. (I’m happy to use my Twitter feed (and my BlueSky) to announce new additions, Amazon — no charge!)

As they try to attract new subscribers with less original scripted programming, streamers are increasingly adding more kinds of programming to their platforms (news! sports!) and more brands (Hallmark and Reelz on Peacock, AMC+ on Max). That’s fine, but unfortunately it has only added to a problem that has long plagued every streamer not named Netflix: Crowded and confusing home pages that make it harder for users to get to the content they want to see. The poster child for this new chaos is Max, which first shocked longtime subscribers to predecessor services HBO Max and HBO Now by suddenly squeezing The Sopranos into the same row as Dr. Pimple Popper. As if that wasn’t enough, the streamer has since added live news and sports verticals, and all the bells and whistles needed to promote them. Want to get to your personally curated list of shows and movies via the homepage? You need to scroll down five rows, past a collection of “Live and Upcoming” tiles touting the offerings of Max’s new Bleacher Report sports tier. (There’s also a very tiny HBO logo at the top of the home screen that takes you to a hub for the network, though again, that requires several clicks to get to.)

Of course, Max is hardly alone in turning its homepage into a blurry mess of disparate “content.” Peacock’s top carousel might as well be called The NBCUniversal Parade of Priorities, since at any given time, it’s jammed with about a dozen different titles which, most of which have one thing in common: They’re clearly super important to execs at Bravo/Focus Features/NBC Sports/Peacock Originals. Ditto Paramount+, which like Peacock also has an annoying habit of using its most valuable real estate — the very top of the homepage — to push things that are still days or weeks away from premiering on the platform.

Then there are platforms which have been around for many years now and should have gotten much better at designing a user experience that prioritizes helping subscribers get to the shows they want to see as opposed to the stuff the platforms want them to watch. Max might make you scroll a bit to find the list of programs you’ve added to your watchlist, but at least it puts it on the main page. Hulu, Disney+, and Prime Video force users to click over to a lefthand sub-menu and then scroll down a bit to finally get to their lists. Netflix is all over the map, depending on when you open it: It sometimes puts the My List feature as the very first row of its homepage just below the lead carousel, thus prioritizing the titles users have already identified as the ones they’re interested in watching. But sometimes it pushes it down a few rows (for reasons, I guess?) and it’s also much worse than most streamers about letting you find your “Continue Watching” list. (This morning, I checked out the first few minutes of a comedy special from upcoming SNL host Nate Bargatze; when I closed the app and returned a minute later, I could not find a way to get back to the program. I then checked the app on my phone, and it was six row downs, below a top 10 list and a row of mobile games that I will never play.)

Now look, not everyone uses streaming services the same way. I have friends who say they’ve never once added a show to a watchlist and instead prefer to just browse around the homepage. Some folks really prefer to see a Continue Watching row ASAP, making Netflix’s interface massively annoying. And if you’re into sports, having those live events prominently displayed is going to be appealing, and maybe make you think twice about canceling. The problem is that all of the streamers, including (and maybe especially) Netflix, have yet to adjust their user interfaces to reflect the fact that they’ve become mini- cable systems with enough varied programming to fill a dozen or more linear networks.

Cable systems used to smartly group similar channels next to each other in their lineups: Disney, Nick, and other family networks would live next to each other, as would general entertainment channels (TBS, TNT, USA, FX), sports networks (ESPN 1-8, Fox Sports, regional outlets) and of course what we used to call “the movie channels” (HBO, Showtime, Starz, and, yes, a network actually called The Movie Channel.) If you didn’t have kids, you’d probably never see anything on Disney or Nick because you’d just skip right past them and head over to Sportsville.

Streamers have sort of tried to recreate this vibe, toying around with “brand hubs” that tout shows from linear networks or film studios.  But they’re rarely well-curated and are often hidden in the user interfaces. Plus, they’re often filled with stuff that doesn’t belong there: Max’s TCM hub includes movies that would never air on the actual cable channel, while its HBO vertical is currently pushing a Max Halloween experience packed with Scooby-Doo shows and cheesy sitcom episodes. I love both of those things, but they’re TV — not HBO. And while I don’t actually agree with critics who are opposed to the mere idea of Max (HBO plus a lot of other stuff for one monthly fee), I don’t think I’m alone in wanting my streaming services to make it easier to find something to watch rather than assault me with a zillion different options the moment I click into an app.

OK, so really, ginormous Google doesn’t need anybody to flack for it and say nice things about its services. And yet, I have become convinced that my years-old subscription to YouTube Premium is absolutely my smartest streaming investment. While the price has gone up a bit (like everything else), the current fee of $14 gives me access to both YouTube Music (easily on par with Spotify or Apple Music) and the absolute joy that comes with never seeing even a single ad on YouTube. There’s no annoying pre-roll commercial when watching a Seth Meyers clip and no annoying block of ads when diving into an old episode of some random 1980s sitcom not available anywhere else. Honestly, given how much I watch YouTube, I’d seriously consider spending the $14 just to avoid ads. But the thing is, given a YouTube Music or Spotify subscription now costs $11 per month, you’re really paying just $3 per month in order to banish commercials. I suppose if you’re super invested in Spotify’s algorithms or user interface (both excellent) or just really want to help pay conspiracy theorist Joe Rogan’s ridiculous salary, then the value proposition is a bit diminished. But for me, keeping ads away from the streamer I use the most is money well spent, even if it means sending a little more cash to yet another big company with … issues.

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