The Crown Season 5 debuted recently on Netflix.

I watched the first two episodes and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it has new writers who don’t understand what made it so gripping before.

In the past I did sometimes groan about how bleakly unhappy people are on it.

But it was done so well!

Plus making your characters miserable is mostly something I recommend.

Because audiences are basically sadists, and punishing our characters is what writers do. Whether it’s drama or comedy.

But while there’s still not a lot of happiness in these two hours, there’s also not much that’s compelling, in my opinion.

So let’s look at what has gone wrong, in terms that of writing in general, and TV writing.

I would put a spoiler alert here, but honestly, I see such little dramatic substance that there’s nothing to spoil. 🙂

If I sound upset I guess it’s because when you really loved something and then it seems to go off the rails, it’s somehow more alienating than if you just sampled it and were not drawn in.

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First off, I’m not here to talk about casting.

While I don’t disagree with people who are puzzling over the great Dominic West as Prince (now King) Charles, the performances and who’s giving them are not my issue.

I want to talk about story and writing.

I’ll start with a brief recap of what happens in the two episodes. See if that gives you an idea of what I’m going to say about it.

In the season premiere…

      • The Queen is concerned that she’s gained a few pounds, and her yacht needs repairs that she wants the government to pay for.
      • Diana and Charles go on a trip with friends we never met before. He wants to visit museums and such while she prefers the beach and shopping.
      • They both continue to be unhappy in the marriage, which was explored at depth and with high emotion in Season 4. Here it’s kind of restated but somehow Charles doesn’t seem quite so bothered about it.
      • What does intrigue Charles is a news article stating that the public thinks the Queen should step down and let him be King now. While her staff hide the article from her, he hints to new Prime Minister John Major that maybe they have a point.
      • The PM squirms and demurs at this and also the Queen wanting her yacht money.

Sound compelling?

It wasn’t. At least to me.

Then in Episode 2:

      • Prince Phillip takes up carriage racing!
      • He tries to comfort a grieiving mother, a friend of the family who we don’t know, by getting her into it too. It kind of works.
      • Diana begins recording her complaints about her life with the royals and letting another friend we don’t know deliver them to a book writer.
      • She’s concerned her phone is tapped and someone is trying to stop them. Which doesn’t amount to anything.
      • But when the book comes out and Phillip suspects she cooperated with it, he gives her a stern talking to. The one scene of drama in the first two hours reminiscent of this series’ past, in a good way. Although certainly not new territory.

Now for the lessons: why does all of this not work and what does it teach us about compelling drama, and especially episodic drama?

1. Characters aren’t actively pursuing difficult-to-fulfill desires that have strong life stakes the audience can relate to, and encountering significant conflicts as they do so. Other than Diana getting the talking to from Phillip at the end of Episode Two. Yes, people want things and have feelings about them, but the stakes tend to be low (weight gains and yacht repairs!), the obstacles internal or theoretical, and the situations don’t build and complicate in intriguing ways as they pursue resolution and run into problems.

Which to me is the template for all good stories.

2. The scenes are low in conflict. They’re mostly people essentially getting along with each other. The Queen and Phillip. Phillip and the grieving mother. Diana and her friend. Yes, the characters have some complaints, but nobody likes watching people complain. Including Diana doing it into a tape recorder.

3. There’s little web of conflict. The episodes isolate people into two-character scenes that play out repetitively over the course of each hour rather than explore the larger cast of characters who used to have big agendas, disagreements, emotions, and major personal developments.

4. We’re not invested in the people. For all the reasons above. And also because the new ones who are introduced don’t get involving introductions or stories from their points of view. They’re secondary and mostly unknown to us. From John Major to Diana’s friend to the grieving mother. And we’re given little fresh insight or reason to care about the people we do know, who repeat what we’ve seen so much from them before, but with less emotion, conflict or stakes.

5. Nothing big is going on for the country. These figures have no meaty situations to deal with to help provide stakes and drama when their personal situations might not.

I’m sure it’s not easy to keep up the level of quality of a show like this for many seasons. And I really don’t want to be a complainer myself. It’s hard to do this well. I’m only talking about it here because those five points are worth keeping in mind for all of us, in everything we write.

It can be especially difficult with true stories. While things might change later in the season, it feels right now like The Crown is simply “chronicling events,” and not so compellingly. As opposed to imposing the criteria for good story on whatever source material they choose to focus on and explore, which they’ve done so brilliantly effectively for four years.

 

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