The Relentless Romance of Streaming The Bachelor
If you have watched any seasons of The Bachelor or The Bachelorette, Bachelor Pad, Bachelor in Paradise, Bachelor in Paradise: After Paradise, or The Bachelor Winter Games, The Bachelor Presents: Listen to Your Heart, The Bachelor: The Greatest Seasons – Ever!, or The Bachelor Summer Games, at the time of their network television premieres, then you met these shows as its creator intended, with commercial breaks. Consequently, you knew what to expect, and when to expect it. That may even be why you return to it. But if your firsthand introduction with this televised dating mill was confined to a streaming fever spree, then you have eclipsed all temporal logic and desperately need to wind your watch. If you don’t recognize this instability, it’s because you’re so rooted in the comparatively ancient structures of television programming that you’re still seeing what’s now missing. This is a persistence of vision that less and less will possess. As the recent evolution of streaming has clearly transformed the shape of its content and the way you consume it, it can also transform existing series transported to this mode, creating a wildly different entertainment.
The Bachelor uniquely changes in a no-commercial context. Many shows may acknowledge an impending commercial break, but these are usually relegated to the non-fiction variety. No matter the type, stripping ad breaks from a TV show will not affect the plot. The break is merely an ellipsis. Or, time may well stop for a commercial; they exist outside of the story. Yet for this franchise, the ads have an outsized responsibility to its construction. The foundation is the sublimely expressive editing built around them; medleys that relish what you’ve seen and teasing what you haven’t yet - to sustain your interest. Most of our filmed narratives (acted or merely produced) condense time and our experience of it. The Bachelor falls into this majority, but it adheres to strict formal editing rules when most do not. About 6 weeks of filming is reduced to around a dozen episodes of 120 minutes, with commercials. Episodes will contain mostly new content, plenty from earlier episodes, and even some from future episodes - though the episode number dictates how these are balanced. Moments get teased and then replayed without end. This stream of consciousness collage weaves the sections of the hour, the hours of the season, suspense of one’s purpose, and passion of melodrama to a basic game show anatomy. It is emotionally vivid, as a result.
The ‘original’ experience of The Bachelor - still pillared within commercials - was ostensibly a live one (literally so in 2016’s one-off Bachelor Live season). To instill this impression, the narrative is carefully sustained in the present tense. Each Monday is presented as the culmination of the preceding week. Even the confessional camera interviews present the illusion of a direct feed into their thoughts. The implied, unheard question is “How do you feel about what is happening?”…when they’re actually prompted “What were you feeling at that moment?” Only moments ripe for reflection make the cut (unless the reflection itself is ripe enough). Altogether, this veritable highlight reel is teeming with such vivacity that its blockbuster appeal is no surprise. Within ABC’s lineup, this appeal is parallel to an actual live program: Monday Night Football; sharing the urgency of competition, unblinking showcase of the physical form (both with rotating casts), and the knee-jerk tribalism of its viewers. But unlike a sports telecast, The Bachelor requires breaks to make sense of the mass replays. Without these pauses, what remains is rendered arbitrary and inadvertently avant-garde.
It begins, like clockwork, with a preseason preview: the staccato symphony of confident pleas and coquettish tones is carefully played, only to lose time when stumbling ear-first into off-beat pauses, awkward or pregnant, and always muted. A haphazard collection of camera sweeps and peeks catches every smirk and swimsuit. Every eye’s slow dilation reveals their desire; some with earnest confidence of reciprocity. Sunrises and sunsets, in no particular order. This slideshow of tomorrow speeds up and builds in force until, finally, a host anchors us in the present. For the first time, each moment comes after the one before it. Our matchmaker parades everyone in succession, our star and the wooers - to whom you are aggressively ambivalent. Their histrionics make you suspicious before you acknowledge that anyone missing a watch and last name is afforded an existential crisis.
It is at this crucial point – where the first commercial belongs – that the circumstance of the streamer and television viewer dramatically diverges. The latter finds out who really pays for the ring. As if sobering from a dream about Crest 3DWhitestrips 1-Hour Express Teeth Whitening Kit (with LED Light), they are reminded of where they left off before the brief slumber. You don’t have this same dream and don't need a reminder. Instead, you watch what will happen, then inexplicably rewatch what just happened before moving forward again; the first case of chronic deja vu. You advance, this time longer than before. But, this linear action wasn’t meant to outrun the commercials. Despite their exorcism, you still pivot forth and back in montages built to bookend another hiatus from programming (that no longer exists). This whiplash is severe but relief is finally found in a satisfying ceremony of close-ups - to which you mirror every crowded frame of breath and rose holding.
But in the end, regretfully, you gamble your bearings with one more look at the time: visions of next week and then of the remaining season, before quietly looping into a new episode. Like staring into a jigsaw puzzle at dusk, the loop loses definition with each passing minute. Months somehow reshape into hours and unravel back out as you sit for the exact same duration, minus commercials. You no longer need to wait months to find out the season’s post-script. You needn’t even wait for the closing song to end before pulling out your phone; they couldn’t stay together for 30 seconds. Your infatuation wilts as quickly.
Your reaction isn’t your fault, and perhaps there’s not all fault to find. While the alternate presentation relentlessly alters this show, our relationship with all media has been steadily changing. Today, distracted is the highest expected threshold of engagement. We’ve never before needed to consider the disparity between content volume and our focus capacity. One long day, or a short weekend, is all that’s required. Such modest pledges allow us to inflate our devotion. So we boast of our obsessions, and later stay quiet about their endurance. But, effortless commitment hardly qualifies as commitment. Rather, the television viewers know that the same hours of attention in weekly installments furnishes months of investment - an equal ante that pays dividends. It is that earned commitment, tried over time, which proves the more enduring bond. Even for a cultural institution like this, such a bond is still vulnerable to the widening fracture of their fellow congregants, who seldom fill the makeshift pews in your co-worker’s family room. They’re gradually converting to your solitary practice. Though lacking in shared experience, it hasn’t been so lonely for you. The cast is always there for comfort. You are, after all, in conversation throughout, with every member delivering a soliloquy of sorts as your eyes meet. Ushered into the safety of a small room, they gush and simper and explain - often with hindsight… And with that realization, you must confess to yourself that the present is actually the past. Your watch is broken. Your turmoil is rooted deeply into streaming The Bachelor this way. While the method may be misguided, it still bears significant fruit. For only in this way, do we truly observe the metaphysical and ever-present desire to be loved - made most evident by our constant compulsion to reach for anything resembling it, no matter the reality.