The struggle is real: Can TV capture Gen Z's attention?
This year, I found myself revisiting the opening scene of Adults, FX's half-hour comedy about a group of recent college graduates in New York. What initially seemed like an awkward portrayal of early adulthood intimacy quickly devolved into a cringeworthy standoff between a creepy subway masturbator and the show's protagonist, Issa, as she tries to outdo him with a feminist rant. The moment was jarringly off-putting, but also unintentionally revealing - this is a show trying too hard to get young people's attention.
The same anxiety courses through the opening of I Love LA, HBO's west-coast rejoinder to Adults. We meet Maia, played by creator and co-writer Rachel Sennott, mid-sex with her boyfriend, heedlessly determined to come before going to work, even if it means ignoring an earthquake. Both scenes contain many of the hallmarks of TV about the wilderness that is one's 20s - intense relationships, staggering narcissism, blinkered optimism, and intoxicating messiness - but watching them left me reminded more of the television industry at large than the turbulence of that age.
TV is desperate to connect with young people, who increasingly opt for YouTube or social media for their screen time. Perhaps this is why the industry seems especially bullish on I Love LA, in a way that's incongruous with a show that still feels like a work in progress. Variety declared the series a "generational text" and put Sennott on its cover before it even aired, and HBO has already announced a second-season renewal, calling it "among the fastest-growing" of its original comedies.
But despite this hype, I couldn't shake off the feeling that TV is struggling to keep up with Gen Z's attention span. The closest one could get to a definitional gen Z hit is Euphoria, the overwrought HBO soap about high schoolers that reads as a millennial fever dream of all the ways the internet can ruin adolescence. It has been off the air for five years, with its long-awaited third season delayed until spring 2026.
When Gen Z does pick a show to watch, they tend to go back in time - 65% of the shows watched by 16 to 34 year olds are library series, including NBC's archetypical twentysomething hangout sitcom. Nearly half of Gen Z prefers YouTube or social video platforms like TikTok over traditional TV or paid streaming.
But for reflections of their own experience, much of this cohort turns to social media - watching influencers riff on fun and flirty nights out with friends or tuning into the latest lore-filled chapter of roommate situationship that may or may not be real. Hollywood is attempting to meet an audience increasingly acclimated to bite-size content by chopping their series into micro-chapters for social media.
While I Love LA and Adults both attempt to build internet life into the fabric of its characters' social groups, the results are expectedly mixed. The satire in I Love LA feels too toothless, while Adults handles online dating and location sharing with what feel like oven mitts. Both shows show promise, but watching them mostly left me nostalgic for the gut-twisting insights of Girls or the resonant friendship fights in Insecure.
Perhaps traditional television will transition from dominant cultural art form to niche medium. But until then, TV must try to connect with Gen Z's attention span - and that's a tough bind indeed.
This year, I found myself revisiting the opening scene of Adults, FX's half-hour comedy about a group of recent college graduates in New York. What initially seemed like an awkward portrayal of early adulthood intimacy quickly devolved into a cringeworthy standoff between a creepy subway masturbator and the show's protagonist, Issa, as she tries to outdo him with a feminist rant. The moment was jarringly off-putting, but also unintentionally revealing - this is a show trying too hard to get young people's attention.
The same anxiety courses through the opening of I Love LA, HBO's west-coast rejoinder to Adults. We meet Maia, played by creator and co-writer Rachel Sennott, mid-sex with her boyfriend, heedlessly determined to come before going to work, even if it means ignoring an earthquake. Both scenes contain many of the hallmarks of TV about the wilderness that is one's 20s - intense relationships, staggering narcissism, blinkered optimism, and intoxicating messiness - but watching them left me reminded more of the television industry at large than the turbulence of that age.
TV is desperate to connect with young people, who increasingly opt for YouTube or social media for their screen time. Perhaps this is why the industry seems especially bullish on I Love LA, in a way that's incongruous with a show that still feels like a work in progress. Variety declared the series a "generational text" and put Sennott on its cover before it even aired, and HBO has already announced a second-season renewal, calling it "among the fastest-growing" of its original comedies.
But despite this hype, I couldn't shake off the feeling that TV is struggling to keep up with Gen Z's attention span. The closest one could get to a definitional gen Z hit is Euphoria, the overwrought HBO soap about high schoolers that reads as a millennial fever dream of all the ways the internet can ruin adolescence. It has been off the air for five years, with its long-awaited third season delayed until spring 2026.
When Gen Z does pick a show to watch, they tend to go back in time - 65% of the shows watched by 16 to 34 year olds are library series, including NBC's archetypical twentysomething hangout sitcom. Nearly half of Gen Z prefers YouTube or social video platforms like TikTok over traditional TV or paid streaming.
But for reflections of their own experience, much of this cohort turns to social media - watching influencers riff on fun and flirty nights out with friends or tuning into the latest lore-filled chapter of roommate situationship that may or may not be real. Hollywood is attempting to meet an audience increasingly acclimated to bite-size content by chopping their series into micro-chapters for social media.
While I Love LA and Adults both attempt to build internet life into the fabric of its characters' social groups, the results are expectedly mixed. The satire in I Love LA feels too toothless, while Adults handles online dating and location sharing with what feel like oven mitts. Both shows show promise, but watching them mostly left me nostalgic for the gut-twisting insights of Girls or the resonant friendship fights in Insecure.
Perhaps traditional television will transition from dominant cultural art form to niche medium. But until then, TV must try to connect with Gen Z's attention span - and that's a tough bind indeed.