Over the last eighteen months, one of the smaller but more influential streaming services has been running a quiet experiment in feature-length non-fiction that, if sustained, could quietly rewrite the economics and the form of the documentary over the next five years. The experiment is not a single show or a single format. It is a set of small, deliberate choices about runtime, distribution, and collaboration that together amount to a different theory of what a documentary can be.
The first of those choices is runtime. The service has been releasing substantially more documentaries in the forty-to-sixty-minute range than the standard seventy-to-ninety-minute feature length that has dominated the form for two decades. The shorter runtime, the service’s head of non-fiction said in a recent interview, allows the form to compete with prestige drama for evening viewing time without requiring viewers to clear a different kind of evening in their diary.
What the shorter runtime changes
Shorter runtime changes two things about how a documentary is made and watched. It tightens the narrative structure, in some cases to a degree that critics have described as closer to a long-form magazine piece than to a traditional feature. And it changes the relationship with the subject, because the budget required to justify a forty-five-minute production is meaningfully lower than the budget required to justify a ninety-minute one.
That second change, the head of non-fiction said, is the more important of the two. “When the budget is lower, you can take more risks on the subject. You can tell stories that don’t justify a theatrical release and that a network documentary strand might not have room for, but that are also more than a single short.” The result, in the service’s own viewing data, is a higher completion rate and a higher rate of return viewing — both metrics that the broader industry has struggled with for non-fiction over the last decade.
The collaboration piece
The second element of the experiment is a closer collaboration with subject communities than the format has historically allowed. Several of the service’s recent releases have been produced with substantive input from the communities they portray, including on the question of which parts of a story are told and which are left for the community to tell in its own venues. The arrangement is not always smooth, and at least one recent release was held back from release for several months while a disagreement about a single scene was worked out.
The service argues that the friction is worth it. The resulting films, its research suggests, are watched for longer, are recommended more often, and are more likely to be re-watched than the average documentary in the catalogue. They are also, the service concedes, slower to make and more expensive per finished minute than the longer, more conventional format.
What to watch
Three signals will tell us whether the experiment is being adopted more widely. Whether the other major streamers begin to commission in the shorter runtime at scale. Whether the awards circuit, which has historically been resistant to shorter runtimes, begins to find a way to recognise the new format. And whether the broadcasters, who have largely ceded the documentary feature to the streamers over the last decade, find a way to compete in the new middle ground.
The service’s head of non-fiction is characteristically cautious about extrapolation. “We are one service, running one experiment, for a relatively short period,” she said. “It is too early to call it a movement. It is the right time to ask whether it should be one.”