Entertainment
Kids Today Will Never Understand Network TV’s Most Powerful Hype Machine
By Robert Scucci
| Published
Sit down around the fire, my lads, and let me enlighten you on the relic of ancient media known as clip chows. Back in my day, cable TV ruled the landscape, and sitcoms ran for 22 to 26 episodes a season. Week after week, we’d go on a new adventure, wondering what kind of trouble Homer Simpson, Ross and Rachel, Tim “The Tool Man” Taylor, and Jerry and the Seinfeld gang would get themselves into. But toward the end of any given season, there wouldn’t be a new adventure. Instead, we’d get the dreaded clip show.
I call the clip show “dreaded” because most people didn’t like them. I had no strong feelings either way. The idea of reusing content under the guise of a new episode never really bugged me so long as it served a purpose. As long as the episode was framed in a way that was palatable, I was all for it. I always saw it as a greatest hits reel, and if there was a solid framing device, it was a great way to revisit some of the best moments from any given series.
But there’s more to Clip Shows than meets the eye. They were important to a series’ health in a world where DVDs weren’t yet ubiquitous, and home media consumption hadn’t exploded into what it is today. In the streaming era, the idea of a clip show is rightfully preposterous. That’s why Friends, which concluded its run in 2004, used them often, while How I Met Your Mother, which debuted in 2005, mostly avoided them outside of the occasional flashback-heavy episode.
What’s The Point Of A Clip Show?
Home Improvement had some of the best Clip Shows because they were framed around Tim Taylor’s horrible decision-making. Season 4 featured two back-to-back clip shows, “Tool Time After Dark: Parts 1 & 2.” The series had just hit its stride and quickly became appointment viewing for millions of American families. But writers get tired, cast and crew members need downtime, budgets get stretched thin, and the show must go on.
So how did Home Improvement handle it?
Tim eats too much Polish food, gets laid out on the couch, and spends both episodes wrapped in blankets, drinking antacid through a bendy straw while watching reruns of Tool Time. It’s a clip show done right. It’s essentially a bottle episode that only really required Tim Allen on set for a majority of its runtime, saving on payroll toward the end of Season 4. It’s also a clean framing device that lets casual viewers catch up on the show’s best moments.
Budget And Back-End Sales
Clip Shows served two very specific purposes: saving money and marketing.
Star Trek: The Next Generation’s first and only clip show, Season 2’s “Shades of Gray,” was famously hated by fans, but it was born out of necessity. The showrunners spent so much of the season’s budget building elaborate set pieces for episodes like “Elementary, Dear Data” and “Q Who,” that they didn’t have enough funds to properly finish the season. The result is an episode centered around William T. Riker experiencing flashbacks to earlier events in the series. It’s widely considered one of the show’s worst episodes, but those earlier episodes helped introduce the Borg into franchise canon. Sounds like a fair trade-off in the grand scheme of things
Series like Home Improvement, The Simpsons, and Friends used Clip Shows differently. This was the sitcom golden age, when serialization wasn’t required. Sure, there was continuity from season to season, but for the most part, you could jump into a random episode and follow along just fine. It was during a time when clip shows ruled the land.
Clip Shows Thrived In A Pre-DVD Era
Clip Shows offered a crash course in a series’ best moments for casual viewers. Circling back to Home Improvement in its fourth season, anyone just getting into the show had to decide whether they wanted to start from scratch with reruns through syndication. DVDs were introduced in the U.S. in 1997, but most households didn’t adopt them until the early to mid 2000s.
And why would they? After decades of collecting VHS tapes, switching to an unproven format meant dropping a significant amount of cash on something that wasn’t yet proven by the market. Early, primitive DVD players cost up to $600, and then you still had to buy the DVDs in order to watch anything on them.
Networks wanted more eyes on their shows, and VHS tapes could only hold a handful of episodes. The Simpsons had specialty tapes like Treehouse of Horror collections, but full-season releases weren’t really a thing yet, and if they were during the VHS era, we’d all have to rent storage units to contain them. If you were tuning into Home Improvement for the first time and caught “Tool Time After Dark” by happenstance, you’d get everything you needed. Tim’s reckless habits, his ongoing dietary mishaps, and a highlight reel of Tool Time disasters.
Clip Shows were a sizzle reel. They were basically saying, “If you like any of this, there’s plenty more where that came from. Stick around.” Clip Shows were the greatest hits albums of network television, and in this context they thrived.
Changes In Consumption Habits Killed The Clip Show
Once DVDs proved they were here to stay, Clip Shows disappeared almost overnight. There was no need for them. Consumers could buy entire seasons at a reasonable price and own them forever. If you wanted to turn someone into a fan, you didn’t need a sampler platter. You could just show them a handful of great episodes from your DVD collection.
Then, in 2005, YouTube launched. Early on, it was mostly home videos and clips from shows like Family Guy that people wanted to pass around via email; it made sharing standout moments even easier.
As home media became more accessible, Clip Shows became unnecessary. Good shows marketed themselves through word of mouth. The streaming era brought us shorter, more serialized seasons, making them even less practical. They worked in an episodic format where you could mix and match, but when you’re dealing with season-long story arcs, there’s no clean way to justify them.
These days, If I want to introduce a friend to The Simpsons, which is nearing 40 years worth of episodes, I’m not throwing on “So It’s Come To This: A Simpsons Clip Show.” I’m pulling up Disney+ or digging through my physical media and making them watch “Bart on the Road,” “You Only Move Twice,” and “Duffless.”
But kids today, watching a clip show out of context on streaming, will never understand how differently we consumed media in the 90s and early 2000s, or how necessary clip shows were for getting people hooked on a series in the first place.
Entertainment
The Sci-Fi That Failed Twice And Demands A Third Chance
By Joshua Tyler
| Published
No other genre falls victim to early cancellation more often than science fiction. Networks are notoriously impatient with anything that involves expensive special effects or sets, and SF is labor and cost-intensive.
That short runway for success has deprived us of proper endings to some of the greatest sci-fi stories ever told, so we’re left wondering what happened to the Wild Cards in their war with the Chigs, whether the crew of the Destiny ever found a gate back to Earth, and did Captain Gideon find a cure for the Drak plague before it was too late?
It’s the not knowing that’s the worst, and in the case of one sci-fi franchise, we were left in the dark not once, but twice. This is why V failed, and then failed again!
The Biggest Television Event Of The 1980s
V was created by television writer-producer Kenneth Johnson as a large-scale science-fiction event for NBC. The story begins when massive alien ships arrive over Earth’s major cities, with the Visitors aboard them claiming they come in peace and offering advanced technology in exchange for Earth’s resources. They look like humans, they act like humans, and they seem friendly, so we go all in on cooperation.
As the world falls further under the influence of the Visitors, a small group discovers that their human appearance is only a disguise. In reality, the Visitors are secretly reptilian beings manipulating humanity and harvesting people. As the truth is uncovered, a resistance movement forms to fight back.
When it aired in 1983, the two-night miniseries became a huge ratings success and a pop-culture phenomenon, praised for its spectacle, suspense, and memorable twists.
The Event Becomes A Series
After the huge ratings success of V, NBC quickly ordered a follow-up. In 1984, the network aired the sequel miniseries V: The Final Battle, which continued the human resistance fighting the alien Visitors and again drew strong viewership. Hoping to turn the concept into a long-running franchise, NBC then launched a weekly television series simply titled V: The Series later that same year.
At the heart of V: The Series was more of the struggle between the human Resistance and the Visitors’ full-scale invasion of Earth. It starred popular actors of the time like Marc Singer and Faye Grant, who portrayed resistance leaders Mike Donovan and Juliet Parrish. The aliens were the real selling point of the show, with Jane Badler standing out as the evil leader of the visitors, Diana, and the great Robert Englund, famously known for his role as Freddy Krueger, as Willie, a sympathetic Visitor
Why The First V Series Failed
There were immediate problems. The weekly format required producing far more episodes with a more limited budget. That meant the show drastically reduced the spectacle and large-scale action that made the original events exciting.
It also had a leadership problem. Kenneth Johnson, who’d created the concept, refused to be part of the series. He disliked the sequel miniseries V: The Final Battle and wanted out. Lacking his presence, V lost much of its more complex narrative drive and fell into the boring, predictable monster-of-the-week format most shows of the era used.
At the same time, the show’s narrative was all over the map, as constant changes disrupted the story. Resistance leader Mike Donovan was written out midway through the season when the character was captured by the Visitors. Key resistance member Robin Maxwell, played by Blair Tefkin, also disappeared early in the run.
With major characters gone and the storytelling becoming more episodic, the show lost the tight resistance-movement narrative that made the original miniseries compelling. Throw all that in a blender, and you have a disaster in the making, and the audience bailed.
V: The Series debuted on NBC on October 26, 1984, and on March 22, 1985, it was canceled and off the air. What started out as one of the biggest television events in the medium’s history crashed and burned within a year.
Rebooting V For Battlestar Galactica Audiences
The concept was good. The miniseries was great. There was something here that should have worked. So decades later, ABC tried again, hoping to ride the early 2000s wave of sci-fi interest generated by the success of shows like the rebooted Battlestar Galactica.
V: The Series was brought back by ABC on November 3, 2009, and ran for 22 episodes across two seasons until March 15, 2011. This time, they skipped right over the miniseries and went straight to a new V series, wasting no time at all.
Within minutes, the aliens have landed, and from there it skips forward at a rapid pace, setting up the same intrigue that fans of the first series are familiar with. The aliens, who call themselves Visitors and “Vs” for short, present themselves as human in appearance, and the plot starts rolling.
The Visitor’s representative is Anna, played by the stunning Morena Baccarin (Firefly). She quickly becomes a global celebrity, convincing governments and much of the public that the aliens are humanity’s greatest allies. Behind the scenes, however, the Visitors are secretly infiltrating governments, media, and military organizations while preparing for a long-term takeover of Earth.
The story focuses on several characters who gradually discover the truth and join a growing resistance. FBI counterterrorism agent Erica Evans, played by Lost’s Elizabeth Mitchell, becomes one of the central leaders of the underground fight against the Visitors.
Her son, Tyler, played by Logan Huffman, is drawn to the aliens and joins their human youth program, creating tension between loyalty and suspicion. Journalist Chad Decker, played by Scott Wolf, becomes Anna’s media ally while questioning the Visitors’ true motives.
Why V Failed Again
V premiered with strong curiosity and solid ratings, drawing viewers eager to see a modern take on the classic V. Critics were mixed on the reboot. Many praised the sleek production values and Morena Baccarin’s performance as the alien leader Anna, but reviews often said the show moved too slowly and lacked the urgency of the original.
Audience response followed a similar pattern. The pilot attracted over 14 million viewers, but interest steadily declined as the season progressed. By the second season, ratings had dropped sharply, signaling fading audience enthusiasm despite a loyal core fanbase.
The new V had a promising start, but the show made some of the mistakes the previous V series had. It tried to save money by avoiding the spectacle that had made the original miniseries such a hit, and instead leaned heavily into slow-burn conspiracy plotting.
Once again, behind the scenes, V was in turmoil. There were showrunner changes between seasons that shifted the tone and direction. Long breaks between episodes disrupted its ability to retain its audience, draining momentum and confusing casual viewers.
So in 2011, ABC canceled yet another V series before its larger alien-occupation storyline could reach a real conclusion.
Why V Deserves A Third Chance
There’s something to V as a premise. It does things no other alien invasion story has ever done quite as well. It’s exactly the right idea, but somehow it has never found the right time.
Maybe that time is now. Rather than rebooting something that already worked once, Hollywood should consider giving V a third attempt and maybe, just maybe, instead of repeating the same mistakes, they could learn from them and make V the stunning, generational hit it was always meant to be.
Entertainment
Sonys barely updated Bluetooth turntable is still the perfect record player for beginners
Table of Contents
After seven years — a metric eternity in tech time — Sony has finally ventured back into the world of Bluetooth turntables. This spring, the company released the Sony PS-LX3BT ($399.99) and the Sony PS-LX5BT ($499.99), a pair of replacements for its original PS-LX310BT record player.
These newcomers have big shoes to fill. Long regarded as one of the best beginner-friendly turntables, the PS-LX310BT was a popular, perennial favorite for its easy setup, fully automatic operation, and minimalist look. It also helped that it was easy to find on sale for under $200 in its later years.
Admittedly, I never rode the PS-LX310BT hype train. The record player I’ve used for the past 10-odd years is an entry-level wired, manual turntable that’s served me well for the most part, save for some occasional needle issues. I like it a lot… or at least, I thought I did until I used the new PS-LX3BT for a month (the cheaper option). It made me feel so spoiled that I was genuinely bummed to ship it back at the end of my testing period. If you’re a vinyl novice in the market for a solid plug-and-play turntable, your search still ends with Sony.
$368
at Amazon
$398
Save $30
Sony PS-LX3BT review: Setup and hands on
The PS-LX3BT ships in a few parts and looks a little intimidating right out of the box, but assembly wound up being a cinch. You just pop on its aluminum platter, hook a rubber belt around its motor pulley, place a slip mat on top, and snap some hinges onto its plastic dust cover. (You can also use it without the cover.) Sony’s instructions are easy enough to follow, but there are plenty of setup tutorials on YouTube if you need extra guidance.
Here’s what the Sony PS-LX3BT looks like right out of the box.
Credit: Haley Henschel / Mashable
The PS-LX3BT is a belt-drive turntable, which means its motor is separate from its platter, the plate-shaped thing underneath your record. (They’re connected by the aforementioned belt.) This produces less vibration when the motor is running, preserving audio quality, though the belt can stretch out over time and may need to be replaced eventually. The other kind of turntable you’ll encounter is the direct-drive variety, which has a motor that’s attached to the platter. These are more durable and have more consistent speeds, but they can be noisy. Professional DJs generally prefer direct-drive turntables, but belt-driven ones, which tend to be cheaper, are fine for the rest of us.
I did notice that the PS-LX3BT made a mechanical whirrr sound when it was on, but it was impossible to hear once a record started playing. This will only bother the pickiest audiophiles.
The Sony PS-LX3BT’s main housing, or plinth, has a dark gray finish.
Credit: Haley Henschel / Mashable
The PS-LX3BT is stupidly simple to use. Hit the “Bluetooth” button on the left-hand side of its base, or plinth, to connect it to a wireless speaker, soundbar, or wireless headphones. An indicator light next to the button glows blue when it’s paired.
You can also hook up the PS-LX3BT to wired speakers if you’re really worried about latency or sound quality. (Bluetooth compresses audio for the trade-off of portability, which, to vinyl purists, defeats the point of listening to analog vinyl.) There’s an attached audio cable and a built-in phono preamp, so you just need to plug in your speakers of choice.
Two other buttons near the Sony PS-LX3BT’s Start button let you manually stop and raise or lower the tonearm as needed.
Credit: Haley Henschel / Mashable
Once the PS-LX3BT is connected to some kind of audio output device, you just have to press the green “Start” button on the opposite side of its plinth. Your record will start spinning, and the tonearm will automatically move over, drop down, and start playing it from the beginning. When it reaches the end of the record side, the tonearm rises and returns to its cradle. It makes some mechanical clacking noises along the way, which might bug some folks, but it’s great in that it’s completely fuss-free.
Mashable Light Speed
The PS-LX3BT supports standard 12-inch albums or 7-inch singles, and you can play either of them at 33 1/3 or 45 revolutions per minute (RPM). There are knobs that let you switch between the two sizes and speeds on the right-hand side of its plinth. Sony throws in an adapter for 7-inchers, which you can stash in a slot within the plinth.
You can rip vinyl records onto your laptop using the Sony PS-LX3BT’s USB-B port. Its power cable is removable (right), but its audio cable (left) is not.
Credit: Haley Henschel / Mashable composite
The PS-LX3BT’s rear connectivity includes a USB-B port that lets you rip vinyl tracks onto your laptop. I didn’t have a USB-B cable on hand when I was testing the turntable, so I couldn’t try it myself (it’s sold separately). But this is a cool feature that I would absolutely use to digitize physical-exclusive bonus tracks, B-sides, and vinyl releases that differ from the streaming versions. I can’t be the only one who misses the “Milkshake” sample on Beyoncé’s Renaissance.
For $100 more, the premium PS-LX5BT model nets you a detachable audio cable, a slightly thicker slip mat, and a gold-plated audio jack, which “supports a high-grade wired connection,” according to Sony. (From what I’ve read, it’s mainly a durability thing.) Its plinth is black, while the PS-LX3BT is more of a dark gray.
The Sony PS-LX3BT’s cartridge has a tracking force of 3.5 grams, which puts it on the heavy side.
Credit: Haley Henschel / Mashable
The pricier PS-LX5BT also has a lighter, removable cartridge (the part that houses the needle on the end of its tonearm). Its cartridge has a tracking force of two grams, while the cheaper PS-LX3BT’s cartridge has a tracking force of 3.5 grams. I think this is the biggest advantage of splurging on the PS-LX5BT: Lighter cartridges equal less wear and tear on your vinyl.
A tracking force of one to three grams is generally ideal, which makes the PS-LX3BT’s cartridge a bit heavy. It’s not adjustable, unfortunately, though you might be able to jerry-rig a counterweight yourself if you’re concerned about long-term vinyl damage. Someone on Reddit lightened the tracking force of their PS-LX310BT (Sony’s older turntable) by putting a kneaded eraser on the back end of its tonearm.
Sony PS-LX3BT vs. Sony PS-LX310BT: What’s new?
The original Sony PS-LX310BT (top) versus the newer Sony PS-LX3BT (bottom).
Credit: Haley Henschel / Mashable composite
My sister, who lives nearby, happens to own the original PS-LX310BT, so I stopped by her apartment to check it out. There are a couple of small differences between it and the newer PS-LX3BT, but overall, the latter is a pretty iterative update. (My colleagues have said similar things about Sony’s latest XM6 headphones and earbuds. That’s modern consumer tech for you.)
Here’s what sets them apart:
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The PS-LX3BT adds support for AptX and AptX Adaptive Bluetooth codecs.
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The PS-LX310BT’s Start, Stop, and Up/Down buttons are flush on the side of its plinth. The same buttons protrude on the surface of the PS-LX3BT.
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The PS-LX310BT’s record speed and size dials are knobs on the PS-LX3BT.
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The PS-LX310BT’s dust cover has a smoky gray tint. The PS-LX3BT’s cover is clear.
The PS-LX310BT retailed for $449.99 at launch, though it was often on sale for half that in recent years. I think it’s still worth buying if you can catch it at a very cheap price, but it’s getting tougher to find in stock nowadays.
The Sony PS-LX3BT’s transparent dust cover lets you see colorful pressings clearly.
Credit: Haley Henschel / Mashable
If you already own the PS-LX310BT, there’s no world in which you’d need to upgrade to the PS-LX3BT. Its design tweaks are minimal, and its tonearm-moving mechanism is exactly the same. In theory, its AptX and AptX Adaptive support translates to better wireless audio quality, but the records I spun on my sister’s PS-LX310BT didn’t sound worse.
Sony PS-LX3BT review: Final thoughts
I’m a Sony convert if my current record player dies.
Credit: Haley Henschel / Mashable
The PS-LX3BT is a stylish turntable with idiotproof plug-and-play functionality. Its Bluetooth connectivity and automatic operation will turn off vinyl purists, but they’re boons for newbies.
As someone who came to the PS-LX3BT from a wired, manual record player, I can’t deny the appeal of this convenience — and if mine ever gives out, I’ll seriously consider defecting to Sony. I’m precious with my vinyl collection, so I’d go with the nicer PS-LX5BT model for the lighter cartridge.
The PS-LX3BT and PS-LX5BT are both expensive compared to other top-rated turntables, so try to buy them on sale. (I think you’re mostly paying a premium for the Sony name, though I’m inclined to trust its build quality over other random brands you might find at Best Buy or Amazon.) At the time of writing, both models were up to $30 off at major retailers.
$368
at Amazon
$398
Save $30
$473
at Amazon
$499.99
Save $26.99
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New floating internet infrastructure takes flight
A new way to deliver internet is getting closer to reality.
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The Sci-Fi That Failed Twice And Demands A Third Chance
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