MxMIndia

Category: SHAILESH KAPOOR

  • With digitization, channel marketers will need to drop the logic that to create brand loyalty, one needs to create programme viewership, writes Shailesh Kapoor.

    Shailesh Kapoor | Channel Brand: The Digitization Reality

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    D-Day has arrived. By the time you read this, analogue cable would have ceased to exist in three of the four metros, at least legally. The first phase of digitization is finally a reality amidst much speculation over the last few months and, now, chaos. It’s public knowledge now that large audience sections in the metros have still not moved to a digital cable or a DTH connection. If you ask me, there’s absolutely nothing surprising about this at all. After all, this is India. And we do things at the last minute all the time, don’t we? Then why should it be any different when it comes to changing one’s cable connection?

     

    If the government can enforce end of analogue television, the balance households will go digital in a jiffy. There is no such thing as ‘a life without television’, certainly not in urban India. So connectivity is not going to be a major challenge at an industry level. But digitization is sure to throw some new challenges into the arena.

     

    To begin with, the first challenge is right in the midst of all of us. It’s called ‘Nobody Knows Nothing’. There is uncertainty on multiple counts. There are no ratings available for the last three weeks. There are different reports and estimates floating around on the actual status of digitization. But in all this, the real question is getting muted: What will really change when the flux period is behind us and connectivity and ratings are not issues any more?

     

    The most substantive change will be a marketing change. With digitization, the consumer’s ability and acumen to choose channels he wants to pay for will progressively increase. With this change, the focus will shift from programme brands to channel brands.

     

    In nearly 25 years of satellite television in India, broadcaster campaigns have been primarily focused on building viewership towards specific properties, typically new fiction or non-fiction series, film premieres, events and specials. As a rough estimate, more than 85 percent of the marketing budgets of channels are spent on promoting programme brands, while channel brands get less than 15 percent of the spends.

     

    It’s popularly believed that GECs are watched for shows and not for the channel per se. But that’s not entirely true. In a recent large-sample segmentation research conducted by us, more than 35 percent viewership on GECs stemmed from channel loyalty, than programme loyalty. Importantly, this 35 percent makes the crucial difference in a closely fought battle. For example, Star Plus fiction launches typically tend to open at higher ratings than most other GEC fiction launches because the channel’s loyal base gives it the edge for every such launch.

     

    For non-GECs, like movie, news, music, youth and infotainment, upto 70-80 percent viewership is a result of brand loyalty. Live cricket is perhaps the only content type that is entirely driven by programme preference, with minimal brand interplay.

     

    Yet, we see channels spending millions in creating programme sampling. The oft-repeated argument is that to create brand loyalty, one needs to create programme viewership. To me, this has been the television marketer’s excuse for being lazy and not thinking like a true champion of his brand. And the excuse may have overstayed its welcome by a few years now.

     

    In the digitized environment, the arguments in favour of such lopsided programme brand focus will get even weaker. When the consumer has a realistic choice on deciding specific channels to pay for, a bigger brand story will have to be sold. Less than five channels can boast of a programme strong enough to become their brand story today. For others, the brand story will have to come from somewhere else.

     

    So, once the dust settles and the red herring of no ratings is out of our lives, the real digitization-related change should begin. A change that will make the marketing departments at channels more powerful than ever before. But also a lot more accountable than today!

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

  • Unlike several other celebrated TV hosts, Salman’s real contribution to Bigg Boss goes way beyond his name. Evidently, he has immersed himself in the show, notes Shailesh Kapoor

    Shailesh Kapoor | Bigg Host: Salman Sets New Standards

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    He has been the most popular film star in the country for three years now. Salman Khan’s power and charisma has been evident both at the box-office and in the media. Many stars have been critics-proof, but Salman is perhaps the first star to achieve the ultimate pinnacle of stardom: Today, he is content-proof too!

     

    But there’s another component to true, unqualified stardom – television success. With the sixth season of Bigg Boss, Salman has achieved that too. As Sanjiv Sharma, chairman of reputed production house Optimystix, summarized aptly in a tweet earlier this week: “A TV host achieves excellence when it seems like he has created the format. That’s what Salman Khan is achieving with Bigg Boss 6.”

     

    Bigg Boss didn’t have an “anchor” in the real sense of the word over the first few seasons. It only had hosts who played musical chairs every year. It started with Arshad Warsi, moved on to Shilpa Shetty and Pooja Bedi, then to the Big B, before Salman stepped in for the fourth season. The fifth season, however, saw Salman making only a guest appearance in four episodes, being largely unavailable because of the overseas schedules of Ek Tha Tiger. Sanjay Dutt stepped in, and didn’t do too badly, given the Herculean task of filling Salman Khan’s shoes.

     

    But finally, the anchor has arrived. Salman Khan has a full season to himself this year, where he’s hosting not one but two episodes every week. These episodes have been even named after him – Jumme Ki Raat Salman Ke Saath & Super Saturday With Salman.

     

    But unlike several other celebrated TV hosts, Salman’s real contribution to Bigg Boss goes way beyond his name. Evidently, he has immersed himself in the show, almost unconditionally. Now that’s something one would expect more from the hard-working variety of stars, such as Amitabh Bachchan or Aamir Khan. One expects Salman to arrive on the sets and just go with the flow, without much preparation or rehearsals.

     

    In all probability, he arrives on the sets and goes with the flow anyway. Barring a crucial difference. It is very clear that he actually watches the show during the week. And that he has a take on what he watches. He takes positions on issues. And these positions are his personal positions, not of the channel or the format.

     

    So he can pull up the commoner in the house (Kashif) even denying him the right to be a Salman Khan fan, because Kashif’s behaviour in the house didn’t qualify him for it. He can initiate an awkward conversation around a separated couple, and yet make it come across as casual and comfortable. He can applaud Sidhu for being the face of the new Bigg Boss that Salman wants to create – a cleaner, family-friendly version.

     

    But the real victory lies in doing all of this with immense fun and entertainment. The two hours every week (Fri-Sat) are packed with so much ‘masti’ and humour, you will be willing to play a theatre’s ticket price for it. Almost the entire content in these episodes comes across as unscripted and improvised. From giving nicknames to the inmates, to mimicking them, to even asking the most interesting questions, he does it all. Not to mention the sheer effortlessness of the way he handles co-stars who come on the Saturday show to promote their forthcoming films.

     

    Bigg Boss is no KBC or DID. It doesn’t carry the burden of inspiring its viewers and making a change in their lives. It is designed for pure entertainment, of the voyeuristic and glamorized variety. It is a show that begs not to be taken seriously. And Salman Khan seems understood this better than anyone else.

     

    When I see cricket experts analyzing statistics at the end of T20 matches (like the Champions League), I often wonder if they are at the wrong match. If the T20 viewer is interested in slam-bang action, why bother him with wagon wheels, strike rates and dot ball percentages? The fit between the image of the show and the hosting style is the key. Shahrukh Khan struggled with it in KBC 3, where he tried to make a purposeful show frivolous. Amitabh Bachchan struggled with it in Bigg Boss 3, where he tried to make a fun show purposeful.

     

    I know it is almost blasphemous to compare any host in India to what Amitabh Bachchan has achieved on KBC. And I wrote about it in this column very recently too. But if Salman Khan were to make himself available for another season or two of Bigg Boss, he may just achieve the same. There I said it!

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

  • No TAM ratings for nine weeks could well throw an opportunity for some channels, especially the one-show variety, writes Shailesh Kapoor

    Shailesh Kapoor: Ratings Blackout or Opportunity Feast?

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    The unprecedented has happened. The much used and abused word ‘TRP’ (which even the end consumer uses and abuses now!) will be out of our lives for the next nine weeks at least. By deciding that they want a ratings blackout to avoid misinterpretation of transient changes as a result of digitization in four metros, broadcasters and advertisers have created a scenario that has no reference point at all. And that can be a recipe for chaos!

     

    Some may argue that it is not a total blackout, as the data will be released at the end of the nine weeks. But the fact that it is being withheld till then itself implies that it should not be taken with much seriousness even when it is released.

     

    At the channel end, everyone is asking the same question differently: How do we use this blackout period to our advantage? For those asking the question earnestly, the word “advantage” has acquired a connotation it should have always had. The focus has shifted from tactical eyeball-led advantage to the more strategic and enduring image-led advantage. “Now that the ratings monkey is off our back, can we focus on our image?”

     

    For niche channels in particular, this is an empowering thought. The pressure to deliver viewership (and hence a higher effective rate based on the CPRP benchmark set in the market) meant that many such channels ran an FPC that they didn’t necessarily believe in. Now that those shackles are broken, albeit temporarily, one can sense a newfound freedom in their strides. It has the “now, we shall do what we always wanted to do on this channel” vibe to it.

     

    While there is no one-size-fits-all recipe, I want to focus on one key opportunity that the blackout provides for, what I call, “one-show channels”. These are channels for which a disproportionate share of their viewership (35%+) comes from just one programme. On a rough count, at least 25 channels fall in this category.

     

    In ratings terms, a one-show channel can be identified as a channel whose top programme rates more than twice of what its second best programme rates. In image terms, it is a channel whose imagery is primarily, often entirely, defined by one programme. This club includes channels across genres, including some mainline GECs.

     

    In an ideal scenario, a one-show channel should put all its efforts behind becoming a two-show or a three-show channel. Hence, they should be promoting their next line of programmes, which they see as having the potential of being channel drivers in the future. In television, on-air telecast is a type of promotion in itself. The more you see a programme, the more it is being “promoted”. Hence, showcasing the second line of programming through repeats and omnibuses is critical, often even sufficient, to create a strong second line, assuming the content passes muster.

     

    However, the ratings reality rarely allows this to happen. Let’s take an example of a channel whose top programme rates 3 TVR and the next two rate 1.5 TVR. If the channel has five repeat slots available everyday, a future-oriented strategy will demand that it gives more repeats to the 1.5 TVR shows. Hence, the 3 TVR show should get one repeat, while the 1.5 TVR shows gets two repeats each. This sounds correct in more ways than one. For one, the 3 TVR show has a bigger primetime audience in the original telecast, and hence, should be relying on less on repeats. Secondly, its need to be “showcased” to irregular and light viewers of the channel is far lesser, as they are more likely to have sampled it in the past and made up their minds on it in either direction.

     

    In reality, however, the 3 TVR show generally gets three repeats, while the 1.5 TVR shows get one each. This creates a vicious circle, where the viewers see more of what they are already seeing, or what they are already familiar with. As a result, the one-show imagery of the channel is moulded even further, to the point of the channel being stereotyped for it (“Ispe ek hi programme achha hai” to “Ispe to jab dekho yehi programme aata rehta hai”).

     

    Why this happens is fairly obvious. In the short run, the 3+1+1 plan will give better returns (read ratings) than the 1+2+2 plan. The damage in equity is often invisible and intangible. And with that comes the resistance to adopt a plan that goes for the long haul; a plan that looks at the channel’s imagery (and hence, viewership) seven months from today, than seven days from today.

     

    For these 25-odd channels, there couldn’t have been a better opportunity than this. The ratings blackout literally takes the burden of following the 3+1+1 plan off their shoulders. They can now do 1+2+2, or even 0+3+2 as a reverse tactical move. Nine weeks may not be a long time, but it is significant enough to ensure that the impact of a well-planned repeat telecast strategy will bear fruits over time.

     

    I’ll be personally curious to see which channels actually adopt this line of thinking. These are the channels that will emerge as real winners at the end of this period, even if the results take a while to actually reflect in the ratings.

     

    This aspect may also raise a larger question in our minds – Has our ratings system made our thinking too current and tactical, instead of being more fundamental and strategic? The answer was clear even a few years ago. It’s a big, and an unfortunate, yes.

     

    Some day, this too shall change. And the next nine weeks should hopefully give us a sneak peek into that future!

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

  • Shailesh Kapoor picks 14 definitive programmes that cemented Zee's place in the Indian television landscape, in his weekly column, TV Trail

    Shailesh Kapoor: Zee TV: 20 Years and a Piece of History

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    Earlier this month, India’s first homegrown satellite television channel, Zee TV, completed 20 years of being on air. In 1992, when the channel started with about three hours of prime time programming, we couldn’t have imagined how pioneering this initiative would turn out to be.

     

    It can be a very interesting exercise to make your list of the top 50 landmark programs on Indian television. Programmes that have shaped our television content over years. Zee TV dominates my list with 14 programmes, second only after Doordarshan with 15. So here’s my list of Zee TV shows that will find an indelible place in our television history:

     

    1. Saanp Seedi (1992): The first game show ever on Indian television was based on a popular board game, but executed with a style that was flamboyant, almost brazen, in Doordarshan times. I have often wondered why our desi game shows have never managed such energy levels again. I’m sure Saanp Seedi’s host, Mohan Kapur, wonders the same too!

     

    2. Tara (1993): The definitive urban Indian woman’s show, Tara, would ironically be too modern for today’s television. But back then, it was on-the-edge entertainment; a programme in which a woman (Sheena played by Amita Nangia) actually sipped beer on-screen.

     

    3. Banegi Apni Baat (1993): Banegi Apni Baat was a progressive, urban take on teenagers and youth, aided by some of the best acting you will hope to see in an Indian serial. The starcast boasted of Irrfan, Surekha Sikri, Shefali Chhaya, Anita Kanwal, Divya Seth, Achint Kaur, Sandhya Mridul and R Madhavan. Phew!

     

    4. Zee Horror Show (1993): The visual of Archana Puran Singh’s severed head, on a plate on the dinner table, has been imprinted on my mind forever. Zee Horror Show had a somewhat cheesy feel to it, but it was a pioneering step in the mainstream horror genre, after some Doordarshan experiments like Qile Ka Rahasya.

     

    5. Aap Ki Adalat (1993): Aap Ki Adalat was Rajat Sharma’s first brush with television. When Rajat moved on and Zee replaced him with Manoj Raghuvanshi, the show predictably lost its audience. But Adalat gave us a TV format that has subsequently been exploited in several variants. Arguably, it also gave us India TV.

     

    6. Khana Khazana (1993): Recipe shows are on-air by the dozen today. We even have two full-fledged food channels. But when Zee signed on Sanjeev Kapoor for Khana Khazana, it was uncharted territory for both. I will always remember Khana Khazana as the first successful marriage of the kitchen and the television in India.

     

    7. Antakshari (1994): It is hard to recall Antakshari as anything else except Close Up Antakshari, though the series had Sansui and Titan as subsequent sponsors. It is even more difficult to think of this show without its impeccable host Annu Kapoor. Like Saanp Seedi, Antakshari was another example of how Zee brought simple but deep-rooted Indian concepts to television.

     

    8. Hum Paanch (1995): Much before Ekta Kapoor became synonymous with daily drama series, she produced Hum Paanch, a cult comedy about a mad family and their escapades. The supremely talented Ashok Saraf headed its ensemble cast. And Hum Paanch also gave us Vidya Balan!

     

    9. Sa Re Ga Ma Pa (1995): Singing talent has never had a more fertile nurturing ground than this landmark show, which has given us many singing stars, none less than Shreya Ghoshal. Another season has just taken off, and the Sa Re Ga Ma Pa legacy continues.

     

    10. Amanat (1997): In many ways, Amanat set the template for the biggest success mantra of Indian television – joint family dramas. Amanat was only a weekly, like most pre-KBC shows. But this tale of a father (Sudhir Pandey) and his seven daughters remained the centerpiece of our prime time television for almost five years.

     

    11. India’s Most Wanted (1999): I was never a fan of Suhaib Ilyasi’s guttural voice. But IMW, like many other new ideas in the 1990s, had a charming, camp feeling to it. You watched it because it was not well produced. Or maybe, it was meant to come across like that. Today, news channels have pale variants by the dozen, and even Ilyasi attempted one a few years back.

     

    12. Saat Phere (2005): Saat Phere was the social show that existed before socials oversaturated our serials market. The story of Saloni, who has to face tribulations because of her dark skin, eventually morphed into a meaningless one. But while it was at its peak, Saat Phere redefined new-age television in times of multiple marriages, plastic surgeries and resurrections.

     

    13. Dance India Dance (2009): Easily the biggest reality show franchise in India in the last five years, Zee TV took the industry by storm when it converted a seemingly low-budget, experimental show into a runaway hit. Several myths around reality show jury were broken, as three unknown choreographers became household names within weeks. If the recent Li’l Masters season is anything to go by, DID is ready to enthrall us for many more seasons.

     

    14. Pavitra Rishta (2009): Pavitra Rishta is, in many ways, the love saga that Indian satellite television never had in its first 15 years. With its afternoon soap texture, the series has managed to survive several story leaps and casting changes, and continues to have a fairly strong run. And its original hero (Sushant Rajput) is set to make his film debut this January.

     

    Hasratein, Astitva, Jeena Isi Ka Naam Hai and Philips/ Colgate Top 10 narrowly missed my list. There’s also a fair chance that I may have missed out something else truly landmark, given the plethora of content on the channel over the last 20 years.

     

    Kudos to Zee TV. Hope they have many more aces up their sleeve!

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

  • Appointment viewership is the acid test for any programme, says Shailesh Kapoor in his weekly column, TV Trail

    Shailesh Kapoor: Is Appointment Viewing a myth?

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    It’s a much-used and much-abused term in the television business. Appointment Viewership. Indeed, appointment viewing is the Holy Grail for the television business. It’s the acid test of a good programme or channel – Does it have the ability to get eyeballs by appointment? In simple terms, does it have the ability to make its audiences incorporate the program (or channel) into their daily or weekly schedule, in a way that it becomes a fixture for them?

     

    Appointment, as a dictionary word, suggests the same: ‘A meeting set for a particular time and place.’ How complex can it get, after all?

     

    Yet, the degree to which the concept of ‘appointment’ viewership is misunderstood in the television industry can be baffling. I discovered it about three years ago when a research revealed that a programme on a niche channel had very high appointment viewership. The client (who happened to be competition to the said programme) argued how that was possible, given the 0.7-rating of the program. I gave them an example of a 2.5-rating programme on a leading GEC that was being watched almost entirely in breaks and without any semblance of appointment viewing. How the debate went thereon is another story altogether.

     

    But that’s the lack of understanding I speak of. Appointment viewership is associated with high ratings, while lack of appointment is associated spontaneously with low ratings. Many media experts believe that our myopic view of the ratings system leads our television business into operating in the short-term. And this is yet another symptom of the same.

     

    As we have dived deep into the appointment-viewing concept over the last two years, many discoveries have happened over time. Only about a dozen Hindi GEC programme have a significant (20%+) base of appointment viewers. Others are watched for various reasons, none of which have any direct connection to the concept of ‘appointment’. Reasons such as:

     

    • My mother watches it, so I watch it too.
    • It’s the most watchable of all the programs on TV at that time, so I end up watching it.
    • I finish the chores and am free before dinner time, so I watch this program. (The ‘timing suits me’ reason)
    • It’s a good ‘time pass’ programme to watch.

     

    The ratings system doesn’t distinguish such types of viewing from appointment viewing. Back in 2010, a top-rated programme on a GEC was in an extremely vulnerable position. Research after research, viewers would trash it, saying that they are hating how the programme has moved from being a classic to a bore. The signals were clear. The viewing behaviour had moved from appointment to casual to cold & passive. But there was no strong competition to take the audience away. And hence, the ratings maintained themselves by and large, helped by sporadic high points in the story.

     

    The channel remained in denial on the programme for almost six months, questioning research design instead. And then, a competition channel launched a worthy show, and the much-touted show sank to less than one-third of its rating within three months, only to die an impending death over the next six months.

     

    But there are other examples too, where shows or channels run on a small but dedicated viewer base for months, even years. Music channels have certain time bands that manage this, by creating content affinity by showcasing music that a particular segment (e.g. retro music fans) may want to watch. News channels too rely on marquee anchors to create an appointment viewer base. Far and few in between they may be, but such properties serve their channels and advertisers very well over time.

     

    The confusing element in appointment viewing comes from lack of clarity in measurement. Appointment viewing should be defined as the percentage of a programme’s viewership that comes from its core, appointment-viewing base. Because this is the viewership that’s safe, secure and future-proof. The rest is all transient, or simply a matter of chance. Instead, it is often argued that a bigger audience size implies more appointment viewership.

     

    Only about 20 channels in India have even one programme that has a 20%+ appointment viewing base. Others are all creatures of destiny, at the mercy of the viewer, and at the mercy of events in the viewer’s life that the channel has absolutely no control over.

     

    I have maintained for a while that executive producers should be measured on appointment viewing proportions, and not rating points. It will be fairer on them, and on the business. But for that, we need to shed some of our obsession with the weekly ratings.

     

    Easier said than done?

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

  • What can be achieved in a certain time, should take only that much time. Short-form entertainment is soon going to play an even bigger role in our television viewing landscape, writes Shailesh Kapoor

    Shailesh Kapoor: Enter ‘short-form’ T20-style entertainment

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    India played Afghanistan last Wednesday in the T20 World Cup. It wasn’t billed as a high-profile game. There was little hype surrounding a game that was merely a formality, before we play the biggies. It was a weekday match, and wasn’t a very high scoring game either. Yet, the viewership of the India-Afghanistan game was at the level of the Top 10 programmes on television. If that’s some indication, we know what’s likely to come for the Super 8 matches vs. Australia, Pakistan and South Africa. They should easily be the top programmes of the week. The India-Pak game may even end up being the highest rated programme of 2012 on Indian television.

     

    There has been much talk about cricket fatigue over the last few years. So much so that the talk about cricket fatigue has fatigued itself out by now. Most such talk, however, tends to be shallow, starting and ending with the million-dollar question: Is there too much cricket?

     

    Of course there is too much cricket. You don’t need to look at ratings for that. A look at the ICC future tours and programmes calendar for the Indian team will give you the answer. But to assume that too much cricket translates into cricket fatigue is simplistic, even erroneous.

     

    The real change that has happened over the last five years is not that the volume of cricket has increased, but that a new format has been introduced in the mix – T20. As a result, Test cricket and ODIs stand exposed in terms of their entertainment value. T20 has made them seem like yawn-fests. Why?

     

    In India, core sports audiences belong to the 13-30 years age group. A large part of this segment is consumption-led, distracted, hard-to-please and perpetually wanting to move on with things.

     

    With this changing mindset comes the concept of ‘short-form entertainment’. Everything has to be shorter than it was before, to please this audience. Films that are longer than two hours begin to drag, unless they are extremely well made. Serials that continue more than two years are frowned upon. Channels that have long ad breaks are dismissed as being fuddy-duddy. Interstitials and gags that stretch beyond a minute acquire overtones of being indulgent and boring.

     

    There is so much to do and so little time. Most of this “so much to do” may be ‘trivial’ stuff, like social networking, but try telling a 20-year-old that. What! You called social networking trivial?

     

    Short-form entertainment is soon going to play an even bigger role in our television viewing landscape. It is not about 10 seconds or three hours. It is about: What can be achieved in a certain time, should take only that much time.

     

    1. If a promo can communicate a message in 15 seconds, why cut a 30 second spot?

    2. If a movie can tell its story well in 100 minutes, why take 130 minutes to do the same?

    3. Why do I have to watch the entire news if all I want are the headlines?

    4. You can give me engaging break content, like trivia and gags, but remember, it is break content and I didn’t come to your channel to watch a break. So keep it as short as possible.

    5. Why do I have to watch the entire Test match when all I want to see are the boundaries and the wickets?

    6. I’m not going to watch eight hours of cricket when I am now aware of a three-hour version that’s more entertaining.

     

    Get on with it, is what television professionals are being constantly told by the viewers. Today, this may be a sub-30-years mindset. But in the family context, it can be extremely infectious. We see it happening all the time with GEC serials. The dragging perceptions for serials first come from the daughter, and about 3-4 months later, viral their way to the mother or the mother-in-law.

     

    Increasingly, short-form entertainment will be the key to television success, across genres. It’s a dynamic and evolving concept, and the broadcasters who can keep pace with the consumer mindset on it, with bear a distinct advantage over others. This is true across genres, but even more so for sports.

     

    When India plays Pakistan in the semi finals of the 50-over Cricket World Cup, even a 24-hour game can classify as ‘short-form entertainment’. But most ODI cricket is not India-Pak in big events. It is cricket lacking any real sense of purpose or competition. That’s when watching Sehwag (now Kohli) bat is more exciting than the result of the match itself. That’s the short form that works.

     

    As a teenager, Mike Tyson’s boxing bouts used to interest me a lot. I wondered how so much sponsor money could be put on something that lasts merely 30-seconds. Today, I know the answer of course. It’s not about the time; it’s only about entertainment, entertainment, entertainment.

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

  • The element of 'sanskaar' still plays a role in the life of the Indian youth, notes Shailesh Kapoor. How they behave at home is very different from how they behave outside it, once the family filters are switched off.

    Shailesh Kapoor: In A Family-Friendly Pack

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    Bigg Boss will soon be back on the telly, for a sixth time. But this time, the programme that has courted controversy year-on-year, will be seen in new, “family-friendly” version. At 9 pm, in the heart of the prime time, Colors promises a programme that will get rid of the abuses, the affairs, the pole dances, the works. A whole new Bigg Boss indeed.

     

    There is scepticism about whether this new avatar will work for Bigg Boss. Only time will tell us. But there is enough evidence over the last five seasons to say that the franchise had hit a glass ceiling on viewership. Every possible trick in the trade was tried, some of them being nothing short of masterstrokes. But the programme could never compete with the top serials running in prime time. It got irregular and non-GEC viewers interested, while most core GEC viewers largely stayed away.

     

    Bigg Boss always gets media attention. News channels and newspapers love the property for the material it gives them. But the buzz doesn’t convert very well into eyeballs for the show. This week, an A-rated, “bold” film (Heroine) is set for a huge opening at the box office. But television content that’s even remotely bold loses out on a viewer base, especially in the lower socio-economic classes. Why?

     

    A part of the answer is obvious. Theatre viewing is primarily a friends-based activity, while television viewing is primarily a family-based activity. An 18-year-old would enjoy Heroine immensely in the theatre, but will quickly change the channel when the movie’s U/A-rated promo appears on the television set. That’s the element of ‘sanskaar’ still playing a role in the life of the Indian youth. How they behave at home is very different from how they behave outside it, once the family filters are switched off.

     

    But does that explain everything? What about the thousands of homes where such cultural filters don’t apply? Like your home or my home? In bigger cities like Mumbai, Delhi, Bangalore and Pune, there are many posh neighbourhoods that have “progressed” to more liberal (read Western) lifestyle and attitudes. This segment includes several professionals, entrepreneurs and opinion leaders, from across industries.

     

    In a country of over 100 million satellite television households, this “progressive” segment doesn’t add up to much. Even if they did, it’s unlikely that they would allow their house to be metered for viewership measurement. You will be able to feel the pulse of this audience on elite media options like Twitter, or even the more mass facebook, but it will never reflect in the mainstream audience ratings.

     

    Back in the 90s, when satellite television was still nascent, this audience ruled the roost. They were early adopters of a cable connection. Their taste reflected in the programming that succeeded in those times. Tara, for example, was a landmark show that was appreciated for its path-breaking portrayal of women. Somewhere in the late 90s, the ilk of Tara-like shows was overtaken by the Amanat ilk. Because the median market had moved from Mumbai to Indore. The median SEC had moved from A2 to B.

     

    Today, the median market is probably a Gwalior or an Allahabad. And the median SEC is C. And as satellite television (or rather its measurement) penetrates further, the medians will continue to shift even more. The large problem with this method of measurement is that it doesn’t take into account the purchasing power. A rich South Mumbai household is given the same weightage as a poor household in small-town Satna in Madhya Pradesh. Yes, the media agencies can filter data on markets and SEC, but popular perception is not based on such filters. It’s always the “4+ HSM” rating that is reported, be it in the trade media or in the mass media. The verdict is passed with equal importance being given to the two households above, not withstanding that one spends more than 500 times the other on brands that advertise on television.

     

    In any case, no data cuts are available by mindset or attitudes, leading to the entire planning process being based on stereotyping target audience into age, gender, SEC and market brackets.

     

    I have always felt that Bigg Boss has actually been a much bigger success than what its ratings have reflected. It gets the eyeballs of premium and progressive audiences. But our current measurement system is not suited to monetizing these eyeballs in an equitable manner.

     

    Our films have progressed over the last two decades. With our television, though, the progression has been very specific to a mass audience base residing in mini-metros and small towns. The big town audiences will be right in feeling left out. In cinema, they are put on a pedestal because they pay five times more than the small-town cine goer. But in television, nobody cares about them.

     

    Till we find a fair way of evaluating eyeballs that have the purchasing power, the ‘sanskaari’ family theme will dominate our mainstream television landscape. And we will be a poorer television nation for that reason.

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

  • The success of KBC cannot be measured through a mere rating number. Several shows may attract similar audience volumes, but KBC’s long-standing legacy makes it stand apart, writes Shailesh Kapoor in 'TV Trail'.

    Shailesh Kapoor: Welcome Back, KBC!

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    After a few weeks of writing analytical pieces, which often used hard data to make some key points, I feel the need to indulge myself this week, and write a more ‘fanboy’ type of piece. And for good reason too. A new season of Kaun Banega Crorepati (KBC) opened to a rousing audience reception last weekend. Like four of the previous five seasons, host Amitabh Bachchan enthralled us with his charisma and elegance. Coupled with grace. And humour. And style. And warmth. And for me, nostalgia as well.

     

    It all started in 2000. When KBC first went on-air on Star Plus, Amitabh Bachchan was in the middle of a professional low. His last few films – Lal Baadshah, Sooryavansham (subsequently a huge television success), Hindustan Ki Kasam and Kohram – had not set the box-office on fire. And his business venture had crashlanded even before take off.

     

    One didn’t know what to make of KBC then. Quiz shows have never been mass entertainment in India, either before 2000 or even now. The channel airing the show had no Hindi audience base anyway. Prize money seemed the only big hook to get eyeballs in.

     

    But exceptional (not just good) content has the ability to permeate layers of audiences by crossing the most impermeable boundaries. My Bengaluru neighbourhood, where I stayed that time, would watch Kannada television at primetime everyday. As I would walk up three floors to my apartment every night, dialogues in the alien language would greet me from behind the closed doors. But only till July 3, 2000.

     

    Within a week of KBC’s launch, the “greeting” had changed. It was the KBC signature tune, or the deep baritone voice of Mr. Bachchan. I remember stopping once in amazement, on the second floor, listening to the signature music from a TV set playing in a staunch Kannada household, and wondering: This has permeated and how! (Today, I would look down upon this methodology of ‘research with sample size of one’, but that’s another point altogether)

     

    The ‘Umeed Se Dugna’ campaign for KBC 2 was sheer brilliance, and arguably the best ever KBC launch campaign till date. It’s a pity that the season had to be aborted prematurely because of the host’s health. There were also some signs of fatigue beginning to develop with the format, and the industry was beginning to wonder if KBC’s success was short-lived after all.

     

    When Shah Rukh Khan took over as the host for the third season, he was stepping into shoes that were BIG, in more ways than one. A lesson was well learnt in Season 3: You can’t make KBC more entertaining than Bachchan’s KBC. No one can. No one should even try.

     

    When Sony decided to bring KBC back in 2010, there were murmurs in the industry on how the channel was flogging a dead horse (referring to the format, and not its ever-so-alive host). To the channel’s credit, they managed the unique combination of keeping the core of the franchise intact, while making enough changes to infuse an element of freshness in the format. KBC 4 worked. Far better than what Sony would have settled for.

     

    For me, however, KBC 5 was the real turnaround season. It was the only season of KBC that had started with less than a year’s gap vis-à-vis the previous season. There wasn’t much to talk about. All the talking points had been exhausted in KBC 4. Leading upto the launch, the buzz scores were lower and that KBC 5 will match the success of KBC 4 was extremely iffy.

     

    But making the content emotional and (literally) pan-India was a masterstroke. It gave a new texture that the audience of the franchise had never seen before. The journey from a quiz show to an entertainment show was now truly complete. KBC 5 was a huge success. It also gave us the Rs. 5 crore winner in one Sushil Kumar from Motihari in Bihar. Today, he makes more money by participating in other reality shows.

     

    It may be early to identify the ace KBC 6 has up its sleeve. My sense is that this seems like the most “fun” season of KBC so far. It has humour and banter woven in, better than ever before. The host is in absolutely top form, almost as if he was born to do this. Of course, I dare not believe that, because his film work in the seventies is worth several lifetimes.

     

    The success of KBC cannot be measured through a mere rating number. Several shows may attract similar audience volumes, but KBC’s long-standing legacy makes it stand apart. It is the family unifier, the knowledge giver, the entertainment machine, the de-stresser, all rolled into one.

     

    An earnest request to all broadcasters: The day Amitabh Bachchan decides to hang his boots, let’s hang the boots on KBC too. Let the legacy remain untarnished, preserved for posterity.

     

    Of course, I hope (and am sure) that that day is still many years and many seasons away.

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

     

     

  • In India, food television remains peripheral, almost inconsequential. Food channels and food shows are one of the several genres that fall into a huge bucket called "niche television", says Shailesh Kapoor in his weekly column, TV Trail

    Shailesh Kapoor: India’s Unwritten Food Story

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    Some eat to live, some live to eat. But everyone loves food. A good meal at the end of a long, hard day can make it all seem worth it. From wedding banquets to celebrations to business deals, food is always around to make its presence felt. Except on Indian television!

     

    A few years ago, ahead of the launch of his channel, leading chef Sanjeev Kapoor had mentioned to us on why he thought a food channel should be in the top 5 channels in India, if not better. He quoted several examples from across the world, of food shows and channels that have surpassed the best of the drama series and reality shows to become the most popular shows in their countries.

     

    Recently, I read this on the Wiki page of MasterChef Australia: The finale of the first season of the show surpassed the previous high for a non-sporting event in Australia since 2001, beating Australian Idol’s 2004 finale. It is currently the fourth highest rated program in Australia ever. It was also the most watched TV show in Australia in 2009.

     

    Food television has made its mark at the global stage, especially when the content has lived up to the standards set by mainstream television. In India, though, food television remains peripheral, almost inconsequential. Food channels and food shows are one of the several genres that fall into a huge bucket called “niche television”. They only get audience big enough to barely keep them going. Not too many of us will notice if they stopped being there on television altogether from tomorrow morning.

     

    We have a fairly strongly food culture as a nation. Our food has managed to make its mark around the world (often in versions that Indians will abhor and disown). Indian food has the variety, the spunk and the uniqueness that makes it stand out. Why, then, does it not work on our own television?

     

    Some argue that our broadcasters haven’t given the genre a fair chance yet. Star Plus came out with two seasons of MasterChef India. They met with moderate success. The second season was eminently watchable and got good audience response. But when you compare its performance to mainstream non-fiction like Dance India Dance, it begins to look “niche” anyway. A third season has not been announced yet. After all, there may not be much room for “niche” content on the prime time of the leading GEC of the country.

     

    In my opinion, there are three complexities that make food television a daunting programming genre in India. The first one is our cultural diversity itself. While our rich food heritage should be a positive, it creates a divide as well. You can’t get an average Indian to appreciate food beyond what he or she enjoys eating. Try selling the idea of good Gujarati food to a Punjabi, and you are almost certain to run into a cultural wall. We may be food-loving, but we are not a food-appreciating nation.

     

    This lack of appreciation creates a challenge for food programmers. How do you create content that pleases a Maharashtrian, a Tamilian, a Punjabi and a Bengali equally? There is no lowest common denominator to address here. The segments are mutually exclusive!

     

    The second challenge comes in the form of the aversion to non-vegetarian food in our mass audiences. A large (estimated 40%+) section of India’s population is vegetarian. Even KFC has started an oxymoronic vegetarian menu in this country. Non-vegetarian food is a taboo for many, and hence, a television show that captures any form of meat being cooked or shown (like in the food travel shows a la The Foodie) loses half its audience base instantly. The research response to such shows can often be: “Usmein non-veg dikhaate hain, yeh hamare culture mein nahin hai.”

     

    Having programming purely on vegetarian food is not a solution either. For one, the top chefs don’t like the idea. It defeats the entire purpose of showcasing variety and spreading food awareness. Also, the sizeable non-vegetarian population wants to see chicken and lamb being cooked to perfection on screen. No compromises there either. Yet another case of two mutually-exclusive, hard-to-please audience segments.

     

    But the third reason is the most interesting one. It is rooted in the socio-cultural reality of our country. A reality that dictates that women in our country spend a large amount of their daily time in the kitchen, preparing three meals and the in-between courses for their families, all alone, without any real help. Remember, we are talking of kitchens that are essentially devoid of equipment that saves manual work or time. It’s a grind, literally.

     

    As a result, most Indian women begin to dislike (“hate” may be too strong a word) cooking very early in their lives. They take great pride in their food, because a well-cooked dish at the in-laws is a triumphant moment. But that’s a triumph that’s more to do with the delicate nature of the saas-bahu relationship, and less to do with food.

     

    After exhausting herself in an unfriendly kitchen, the woman doesn’t want to see a glamourised kitchen with fancy ingredients on the TV screen. That’s a world she will never inhabit. A world she is not even remotely familiar with. A world she envies to the extent that she looks down upon it.

     

    Now, how will this change? Social-cultural reality does not change. It only evolves, bit by bit, at its own pace. The challenge for broadcasters in India is to adapt their food content to the realities of the Indian woman. The chefs in plush five-stars may do well with a visit to an average middle-class family kitchen in Kolhapur or Kanpur. That’s the reality of food in India. That has to be the starting point of truly mass food television in this country. It can be glamourised and made aspirational, but only to the point of not being irrelevant.

     

    Food can never be a “niche” genre on television. Anywhere. It is more central to our lives than almost everything else besides relationships. Any country whose television treats food as “niche” has an opportunity waiting to be tapped, however challenging the opportunity may be.

     

    Some food for thought there?

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

     

  • In this maddening age of weekly ratings, there is a word that is hugely under-rated and way more important than differentiator, positioning and strategy, writes Shailesh Kapoor in the 'TV Trail'

    Shailesh Kapoor | The all-important C-Word

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    There’s never a dull moment in the broadcasting industry. Fortunes fluctuate every Wednesday morning, when text messages and e-mails with weekly ratings do the rounds of senior management across channels. A large part of the organization’s resource during the day is then spent on analysing, slicing and dicing every possible data point to understand how the week-that-was performed. Often, tactical programming decisions (now we even have a word for it – stunting) are taken to improve the prospects of the half-week that remains, and the new week that’s about to start on Sunday.

     

    Some such tactical steps may work. They may give a boost to the ratings next Wednesday, or the one that follows thereafter. Being an ardent supporter of (good) quantitative research, I have never looked down upon the over-analysis syndrome that some channels tend to exhibit. However, it does make me ask myself – To what effect?

     

    Are you making a fundamental change? Is anything “really” changing? Three weeks later, it will be back to square one anyway. And then, you will start all over again. More tactical data crunching, more stunting, more mathematics. The more you try, the more you realize the futility of it.

     

    In this maddening age of weekly ratings, there is a word that is hugely under-rated. A word that hardly gets spoken of, let alone understood. A word that is way more important than (what-have-now-become) clichés like differentiator, positioning and strategy. It’s the C-word. C for ‘Consistency’.

     

    Consistency, in this context, is about doing most things right all the time. Every single time, not just sometimes. Every single time, not just when the pressure of ratings has piled up. Every single time, not just when you can feel the heat.

     

    Our television industry inherently operates on the premise that with creative products, you can’t do things right all the time. It is popular belief that if you launch eight new shows in a year, four or five of them are bound to fail. Or that if you introduce four new anchors, only one may actually make an impact on the audience. And the most important one: If you make ten promos, only two or three of them will do their job.

     

    In most other industries, success rates of this nature will be frowned upon. In television, the concept of failure rate has been slowly institutionalized. Now, I don’t claim to have any magic formula. No one does. But between 25% success rate and 100% success rate, there is still a yawning gap of 75%. Being consciously aware of that, all the time, is what consistency is all about.

     

    Why is consistency important? Because the consumer rewards consistency more than he or she rewards an isolated success story. Would a housewife rather than a channel that has six good programmes, or watch a channel that has one excellent programme and five poor ones? Would you like to watch a music channel that airs good music all the time, or one that airs a few awesome songs interspersed between many not-so-awesome ones?

     

    Lack of consistency manifests itself in various ways in our television business. Some examples that one gets to experience very regularly:

     

    1. The programme was doing very well, so the content head put it in auto-mode, handing it over to a junior executive, taking his own eyes off it in the process. The story begins to drag and the audiences begin to drop out. By the time the ratings paint the real picture of consumer dissatisfaction, it can be upto eight weeks. The damage is done. The programme has now officially entered panic mode. From being a winner that could have been nurtured by ‘consistently’ focusing on consumer satisfaction, the programme is now a problem child no one knows what to make of.

    2. The channel had about 3-4 back-to-back successes. So new formats and slots are opened up in the name of experimentation. Nothing wrong with that, as long as experimentation is not confused with a carte blanche to go wrong. ‘Experimental content’ is launched without consumer validation. In the process of doing it, the 3-4 successes have started losing attention. Back to point 1.

    3. The channel has decided it will run at least two promos per break. Enough analysis has gone into validating the importance of this promo time. Gradual build in viewership can also be seen as a result. Then comes the festive season, and the promo time is cut to less than 30%, to accommodate excess inventory. Once Diwali is over, we will go back to two promos per break, it is said. But in effect, you also go back to day zero, when you put that policy in place.

     

    I will excuse you for finding my tone cynical. But I have found that it is much easier to communicate a complex, non-linear mathematical model, or a layered and nuanced consumer thought, than the incredibly simple idea of consistency. Of course, there is enough intelligence in the system to process this simple idea. What may be lacking is the realization that consistency can win you far more success than isolated acts of brilliance can.

     

    Malcolm Gladwell’s ‘The 10,000 hours rule’ says that in order for an individual to master any complex skill, he or she must put in 10,000 hours of practice. That’s about four years of hectic work. In television, that’s way too much time to wait for. But can you give something you believe in at least 13 weeks, and do it well? Really, really well?

     

    I often dream of entering a television client’s office on a Wednesday morning, when everything is calm enough for it to be a Tuesday. Nobody is panicking. There’s a plan being executed over a year. The plan has been debated, tested and firmed up with inputs across stakeholders. A plan that the leadership believes in enough to back it whole-heartedly. A plan that has a sense of assured confidence, almost cockiness, around it. A plan that is Wednesday-proof.

     

    Possible for this dream to come true? But then, we won’t be Indians, right?

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

  • If the market is getting younger, why are marketers succeeding with 'older' shows like Ramayan and Mahadev, asks Shailesh Kapoor in his weekly column, TV Trail

    Shailesh Kapoor: Myth-or-logical?!

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    We hear it all the time. That India is getting younger. That we should think of the 13-24 years segment as “screenagers”, not as teenagers or youth. That Facebook is bigger than Star Plus, Zee TV, Sony or Colors for them today. That they would rather watch edgy fiction content on Channel V than (what some believe are) afternoon soaps masquerading as prime time entertainment on television.

     

    Our marketers are obsessed with the young generation. Arguably, they have their reasons. “Consumption” is being increasingly fuelled by the youth, making them the low-hanging fruit for several product categories.

     

    But when it comes to television, there’s another story we need to know. A story that’s in sharp contrast to the oft-stereotyped tale of the screen-agnostic, gadget-happy youth. It’s the story of religious and mythological programmes continuing to succeed like never before. A story that may appear to be counter-intuitive to the young Indian theory, but is actually firmly grounded in the reality of our fascinating country.

     

    Over the last two weeks, the newest GEC on the block, Life OK, has scaled new heights, riding on the popularity of its flagship show Devon Ke Dev Mahadev. The recent ‘shaadi’ track, where Mahadev and Parvati get married, has been a runaway success. Mahadev now features in the top 7 Hindi GEC characters on popularity in our monthly research ‘Characters India Loves’, ahead of iconic characters like Akshara and Archana.

     

    Last Sunday, Zee TV launched the third television adaptation of Ramayan, with a simulcast on Doordarshan. The second adaptation provided a creditable launch pad to NDTV Imagine in January 2008. Sceptics argued that it worked because it came 20 years after the original Doordarshan version. However, that theory has been disproved with the encouraging response to the Zee TV show.

     

    To their credit, both Mahadev and Ramayan are well-produced programmes that manage to engage and entertain. But that’s not enough to explain their wide acceptance, especially in the wake of the young India theory. But there’s another reason indeed.

     

    We conducted a nation-wide study recently to understand the profile of the ‘remote controller’ in single TV households in India. The results were anything but ‘young’. In weekday prime time, the median age of the ‘remote controller’ is… hold your breath… 35 years, with almost 70 percent of them being women. So, from 7-11pm on Monday to Friday, when a large amount of advertiser money is being spent, a 35-year old housewife is the bull’s eye answer to “who decides what plays on TV”.

     

    On weekends, the median age gets a bit younger, but is still 25 years, with a near-equal male-female ratio. Technically, even this audience is outside the stereotypical definition of “youth”. After all, a large section of urban Indian audience (70%+) is already married at the age of 25.

     

    Can you see the chicken-and-egg question here? Do “youth” prefer Facebook and co. to television because they have no control over the remote, or do they lack control over the remote because they have voluntarily given it up? Complex as the explanation may be for this medium, I can safely say that the former is more accurate than the latter. In the way our family viewing patterns have emerged over the last two decades, the all-important remote control has acquired an ownership configuration completely divergent from what the young India theory should suggest. And these viewing patterns are unlikely to change in a hurry, till the multi-TV phenomenon begins to become a significant factor in India.

     

    That brings me back to mythology. It’s content made for the 35+ females segment. These are mothers whose kids are on the verge of entering their teenage. Reinforcement of religion, culture and values is of paramount importance, to both her own self and for her child. NDTV Imagine promoted Ramayan as “Ek Achhi Aadat”. Zee TV is promoting it as “Jeevan Ka Aadhaar”. Both messages aptly reflect the mindset of a 35+ woman who is battling generation gap and upbringing issues around her children. She loves to watch the “mythos”, and also hopes that her child watches along. Sometimes willingly, sometimes grudgingly.

     

    When Ekta Kapoor tried to push the envelope with Mahabharat, the audience rejected her idea of glamorizing sacred material instantly. But give it to them within their values framework, and there’s nothing more potent than good mythology on the small screen.

     

    So, for all the talk of being a young country, the pre-liberalization generation still decides what gets watched on TV. But then, we have always been a dichotomous country. One where Rakhi Sawant and Mahadev can get married with equal fanfare and razzmatazz.

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor

     

     

     

  • Introducing a new weekly column by Shailesh Kapoor, co-founder and CEO of Ormax Media. Mr Kapoor will write on the business (and craft) of television content

    New weekly column by Shailesh Kapoor: Primetime Fiction – Reasons for Seasons?

    By Shailesh Kapoor

     

    Of all my client interactions, I enjoy the ones with foreign clients (often from head offices of their Indian companies) the most. There’s a specific reason for it. The amazement and the child-like inquisitiveness with which they react to research based on mass Indian audiences is so gratifying. Our primetime fiction content is beyond the realms of their comprehension, let alone appreciation. I was once asked: “So are you telling me that every single show that comes on weekdays primetime in India is a family drama?” My attempt to explain that ‘family drama’ is an overarching box with about 7-8 genres within it lasted only a few seconds.

     

    However, one of the more relevant and genuinely thought-provoking questions I’ve been asked by broadcasters from outside India is: “Why don’t you have seasons in fiction shows in India? Why does everything go on and on and on?”

     

    We know the stereotypical responses to this, don’t we? Three most common answers will be:

     

    1. Indian audiences don’t know the concept of seasons. It is a foreign thing.

    2. Only one out of four fiction shows actually succeeds, so why give it a season’s break and run the risk of not getting the audiences back.

    3. It’s a drastic idea and we are not in a position to experiment right now.

     

    All these responses are based on a natural tendency to exercise risk aversion. But neither the (ex) television executive nor the researcher in me approves of any of these answers. In fact, I have a robust argument here to prove why a seasonal approach to daily fiction will be a runaway success in India.

     

    Primetime fiction in India is based on the premise of the audience, particularly women, being addicted (and I choose the word carefully) to watching the life of certain ordinary, people-like-us characters unfold in a dramatic, extraordinary manner. All the enduring success stories in the last 12 years have come from this central thought, which our foreign friends simplistically and erroneously classify as “family drama”.

     

    Then why do serials begin to lose audiences? It is popular knowledge that shelf life of serials today is significantly lesser than what is was before 2008. Most successful serials peak within one year, and are well past their prime by the end of their second year. Very few like Balika Vadhu manage to complete four years of a successful run, not withstanding the hiccups on the way. Is addiction so ephemeral?

     

    Serials lose audiences because there is an equally powerful force that counters ‘addiction’. I call it ‘extension’. If you have had the privilege (no other word describes the experience) of attending qualitative research on serials with housewives as the target audience, you will be familiar with two phrases: “Pehle achha tha, aajkal chewing (pronounced ‘chingum’) ki tarah kheench rahe hain” and “Story ko round-round ghuma rahe hain.”

     

    Almost every serial becomes a victim of this ‘extension’ once it completes about 100 episodes. It becomes the proverbial chewing gum, or the vicious circle in which it has trapped itself. Only to come out momentarily before being trapped again.

     

    Even before 2008, serials had extension issues. But at that time, options were far and few. The number of GECs were lesser, the number of TV channels even more so. The consumer was not spoilt for choices. She accepted extension as a part of her TV life. Today, she is exercising her choice and actively rejecting extension. Because she has another serial in the same slot, waiting with a sizeable dose of addiction that is currently free of extension.

     

    We all know why extension happens. Daily serial production, with 260 episodes a year, is a breathless, never-ending assembly line. There is no time to take a break, because there are no episodes in the bank. Anecdotes of content being recorded on the evening of the telecast are so common; no one bats an eyelid when you narrate them, except the foreign friends of course.

     

    It is humanly impossible to ideate at this fervent pace round the year. Even the smartest, most creative brains will operate at sub-optimal levels when consistently pushed against ridiculous timelines. And when that happens, extension, often unknowingly, is their best friend.

     

    My estimate is that about 70% of an executive producer’s time (both at the production house as well as the channel) is spent on operational running of his/ her programmes. Only 30% is spent on ideation and creativity, which incidentally form the bedrock of the job profile.

     

    Now imagine a scenario where a top-rated show comes in seasons – One season a year of about 4-6 months. But the team on the show works round the year to make this happen. Instantly, the extension issues will be solved. There will be scripts in the kitty and episodes in the bank. There will be time to breathe, to ideate and to execute with full strength. There will be no need to stretch the chewing gum or go on a merry-go-round trip.

     

    What about addiction? For me, that’s the best part of it. Seasonal breaks can fuel addiction like nothing else can. Internationally, this has been proven beyond doubt. Common-sensically, if you take away what she is addicted to, she will yearn for it even more. And when she gets it back, she will see it with fresh eyes, with even more excitement than before. As long as the addiction center (read lead character) is unchanged, this will always work.

     

    What’s the flipside? Only one. A seasonal approach requires a higher investment to make it deliver to its full potential, because you need to commit to a team on the show for the entire year, amortized over only about 100-130 episodes, instead of 260. But compare this incremental cost to the investment that’s sunk in a serial that fails, and you know that this is a non-issue.

     

    Is someone likely to try this anytime soon? I will not bet on it for 2013 at least. Our GECs are more cautious and less experimental today, than they were a few years ago. The seasons idea may be too bold to buy into currently, given the musical chairs battle for the top four spots that they are currently engaged in.

     

    But at some stage, the future should be more seasonal. Hopefully.

     

    Shailesh Kapoor is founder and CEO of media & entertainment research and consulting firm Ormax Media. He spent nine years in the television industry before turning entrepreneur. He can be reached at his Twitter handle @shaileshkapoor