TV, they say, mirrors society, but sometimes the reflection is more about Hollywood’s whims than real life. In this article we explore the top 10 ways execs have twisted beloved series to fit trends.
Why These Top 10 Ways Matter to Viewers
10 Hey, Transgenderism Is Trendy, Let’s Do That
Transgenderism has become a hot‑button issue, and everyone seems to have an opinion. So why not sprinkle a transgender character into every series? It could showcase that trans folks are just like anyone else and deserve the same respect and dignity. Brilliant, right?
But hold on. What if the show in question is known for refusing to hand out dignity? Take Shameless, for instance—a gritty tale of an alcoholic dad and his cash‑strapped family that prides itself on being unapologetically un‑woke. Even its gay characters struggle with concepts like bisexuality.
Still, the writers press on. They could have the transgender character explain gender identity to a gay man in a nightclub, all while the latter fiddles with a prosthetic penis. That, they assume, will hammer the point home.
And for anyone still puzzled about pronouns, the show even tacks on a video link promising crystal‑clear answers… or perhaps more confusion.
9 Diversity Is Good, Here’s A Lesbian
Whenever a character abruptly flips their sexual orientation, viewers tend to feel a little unsettled. Ellen DeGeneres made the move on her own sitcom, which made sense because the series was built around her real‑life coming‑out.
Veep, however, offers a harder‑to‑grasp motivation. Being the offspring of a Vice‑President certainly complicates dating, but that alone doesn’t fully explain the shift.
Besides, there aren’t many laughs to be mined from a straight‑dating storyline.
So the writers thought, why not simply turn her into a lesbian?
Sarah Sutherland’s character swoops from an engagement to a man straight into a romance with her mother’s female security guard, with virtually no character development in between, and the affair is spun to benefit her mother’s political ambitions.
It feels as if the writers had a stash of gay jokes and just needed a queer character to hang them on.
Is that really the case?
8 If Stupid Is Funny, Stupider Must Be Funnier, Right?
When a character is given a quirky trait, it can be funny. Take Ned Flanders, the nicely‑moral neighbor—some shows have turned him into an over‑zealous bible‑thumper. The Simpsons isn’t alone in this ‘flanderizing’ habit.
Consider Kramer on Seinfeld. His eccentricity is evident in his wild hair, which seems to grow taller each season, and his antics shift from merely odd to outright bizarre.
Does pushing the eccentricity further make it funnier? Maybe not. Often lazy writers mistake a single quirk for an entire personality and milk it dry.
7 I Know, Let’s Do Politics, We All Agree On That
Some series are born with a political agenda, while others have politics forced upon them later. Take the buddy sitcom featuring a straight, somewhat shallow Jewish interior designer and her WASP‑styled gay, obsessive lawyer roommate. The original Will & Grace thrived on 1990s New York lifestyle comedy, smart and hilarious for eight seasons.
When the reboot arrived, the creators added a one‑night political special. Up until then, the show steered clear of politics, with characters too self‑absorbed to engage, only occasionally pretending to be activist.
That ten‑minute political episode assumed the audience were all progressive Democrats and proudly anti‑Trump. It was a bold leap, shifting from occasional jokes about conservatism to a full‑blown partisan broadcast.
The special felt uncomfortable; the humor was forced, even the canned laughter seemed strained. The reboot tried to tone down politics for two seasons, but never quite succeeded, and viewership dropped to less than a third of the original’s numbers.
6 Hooray, We Reached Our Goal, Now Let’s Pretend We Didn’t
Some shows have open‑ended premises, while others are built around a crystal‑clear objective. Take Prison Break: Season 1 revolves around two brothers plotting a jailbreak. The title itself spells it out, so when they finally escape at the end of the season, the mission is complete.
One would think the lights go out and the audience moves on.
But a hit series can’t simply stop after one season. So what do the writers do next?
They give us a season of Lincoln and Michael on the run, only to slam them back into prison in season 3.
That move caused viewers to tune out in droves.
Prison Break isn’t the only series to fall for this trap. The Mentalist’s premise centered on Patrick Jane helping police while secretly hunting the man who murdered his family. He constantly reminded the team that his personal vendetta was the true reason he was there.
Midway through season 6, the team finally captures the killer.
Well done, writers.
Yet Jane takes a vacation and returns for another 27 episodes.
Why prolong the story?
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5 I Am Woman Hear Me Roar
Feminism has been around for ages, but many screenwriters still seem baffled by it.
Consider Supergirl. The show already treads on thin ice by naming the heroine Supergirl instead of Superwoman—credit to the comic creators. Portraying Kara Zor‑El, Superman’s cousin, as a strong, independent woman should be straightforward.
After all, she’s essentially a superwoman, despite the ‘girl’ label.
So why does the series keep delivering speeches about how strong and independent she is? It feels redundant.
And it’s not just superhero fare. Feminist narratives often equate being a woman with being ‘strong.’ Male characters can also be strong, of course, but they’re allowed to be other things too.
Women seem to get the strong label by default.
And the show spends a lot of time hammering that point.
4 Just Say No, No, No.
Remember The Fresh Prince of Bel‑Air? The street‑wise kid from Philly who moves in with his wealthy relatives in Bel‑Air.
Three seasons in, Will faces a temptation to take drugs—not for partying, but to boost his studies. He never actually does, being too smart, but his cousin accidentally swallows what he thinks are vitamins and nearly dies.
The episode, titled ‘Just Say Yo,’ clearly riffs on Nancy Reagan’s simplistic ‘Just Say No’ anti‑drug campaign, and feels crafted by the same folks who wrote her slogans.
The Fresh Prince isn’t alone. Teen‑oriented shows often feature characters flirting with drugs only to change their minds, while adult‑oriented series let characters indulge once, get high, then suffer paranoia or jail, and finish with a moral lecture about drug dangers.
None of this is particularly entertaining.
Though Carlton’s dance routine on amphetamines does provide some comic relief.
3 They’re Bound To Cancel The Show Before We Have To Explain What’s Going On
Ah, Lost—a bold experiment where writers realized they didn’t have to resolve every mystery.
Why not lean into that? Keep tossing in bizarre elements—polar bears, time‑travel puzzles, an undefined sickness—without ever having to explain them.
Even random numbers get tossed in to keep fans guessing.
Lost wasn’t the only series to pull this stunt, but it was perhaps the most blatant. For five seasons, viewers were led to believe all the oddities would eventually add up, while the studio collected ad revenue.
When the network finally announced a final season to tie loose ends, fans were left with a neatly wrapped bow—though many felt it was too little, too late.
2 I’m Not Racist, I Know An Indian/Asian/Middle Eastern Guy
Diversity on TV is a good thing, but the token Asian friend trope is less so.
The token ethnic sidekick is usually a brainy programmer, mathematician, or astrophysicist—shy, deferential, and never the one who lands a romance.
Take The Big Bang Theory: Raj Koothrappali can’t even speak to women for six seasons, reduced to mime‑ing whenever a female appears, and remains the last character to find a partner, while Sheldon couples up much earlier.
Or look at Community, where Abed Nadir, a Middle‑Eastern film student, constantly drops movie references instead of engaging in regular conversation—because he can’t talk to people, apparently.
These token non‑white friends never become the protagonist’s best buddy. They appear, sometimes disappear for whole episodes, and no one questions their absence. They tick the diversity box but never drive the narrative.
A radical idea: cast an Asian, Indian, or Middle‑Eastern character who isn’t a math whiz but boasts stellar people skills, charisma, and a knack for romance.
1 I May Be Dead, But Boy Am I Woke
Even zombie dramas can’t escape Hollywood’s insatiable urge to push messages.
The Walking Dead checks many boxes: strong women, a militant anti‑capitalist vibe, a rainbow of characters—both living and undead—including a gay man, a lesbian, and a high count of disabled roles, plus an Asian friend who isn’t just a token.
At first glance, it seems the show puts story before agenda.
But a closer look at the death statistics reveals a disproportionate rise in killings of white, middle‑aged men as the series progresses.
Is this a cynical attempt to advance a hidden agenda? Possibly.
Or maybe it’s the long‑awaited revenge of communists, feminists, LGBTQ+ folks, and ethnic minorities finally getting their due.
Let’s hope that’s the case.
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