The Thrill is Gone: How Netflix's Skyscraper Live Lost Its Edge in a Desperate Bid for Viral Footage.
In a shocking turn of events, the most recent installment of Netflix's "Live" series, Skyscraper Live, has left many questioning whether our addiction to high-risk activities on live television is an indulgence that needs to be reassessed. The event, which saw Alex Honnold scale Taipei 101 without any safety gear, was touted as a record-breaking feat that would push the limits of human endurance. However, in hindsight, it feels more like a reckless bid for viral fame than a genuine pursuit of adventure.
The problem lies not with Honnold himself, whose daring ascent up the 508-meter skyscraper is undeniably an extraordinary achievement. Rather, it's with the way his team presented the event to captivated audiences. While Free Solo, his previous documentary series, was carefully crafted to amplify the drama and tension of his climb without sacrificing Honnold's safety, Skyscraper Live took a more laissez-faire approach. The result was an hour-and-a-half-long broadcast that oscillated between moments of electrifying excitement and periods of sheer boredom.
At its core, watching Skyscraper Live felt like taking a long-haul flight in turbulent weather – punctuated by brief but intense episodes of panic. As the camera panned over Honnold's determined face, it was impossible not to think about the potential risks involved in this kind of stunt. The longer the broadcast went on, the more one began to wonder if we'd be tuning in solely for the thrill of possibility – that our friend might slip and fall to his death at any moment.
It's a concern that echoes through history, from Red Bull's Felix Baumgartner jump in 2012 to the Formula One crashes that have captivated fans worldwide. In each instance, there's an unspoken expectation that viewers are witnessing something extraordinary – albeit one with inherent risks.
The irony is that Netflix wants Skyscraper Live to remain a standalone event, rather than encouraging more high-risk live broadcasts like Free Diving or Rooftop Parkour. And for good reason – by capitalizing on the allure of human risk-taking, the company risks turning its "Live" series into a Victorian freak show.
As the article concludes, it's crucial that we reassess our fascination with this type of programming and prioritize genuine adventure over calculated risks. Our sphincters may have been able to handle the thrill of Skyscraper Live, but should we be willing to watch others risk their lives for our entertainment? Only time will tell if Netflix decides to take a different approach – one that prioritizes responsible thrills over reckless stunts.
In a shocking turn of events, the most recent installment of Netflix's "Live" series, Skyscraper Live, has left many questioning whether our addiction to high-risk activities on live television is an indulgence that needs to be reassessed. The event, which saw Alex Honnold scale Taipei 101 without any safety gear, was touted as a record-breaking feat that would push the limits of human endurance. However, in hindsight, it feels more like a reckless bid for viral fame than a genuine pursuit of adventure.
The problem lies not with Honnold himself, whose daring ascent up the 508-meter skyscraper is undeniably an extraordinary achievement. Rather, it's with the way his team presented the event to captivated audiences. While Free Solo, his previous documentary series, was carefully crafted to amplify the drama and tension of his climb without sacrificing Honnold's safety, Skyscraper Live took a more laissez-faire approach. The result was an hour-and-a-half-long broadcast that oscillated between moments of electrifying excitement and periods of sheer boredom.
At its core, watching Skyscraper Live felt like taking a long-haul flight in turbulent weather – punctuated by brief but intense episodes of panic. As the camera panned over Honnold's determined face, it was impossible not to think about the potential risks involved in this kind of stunt. The longer the broadcast went on, the more one began to wonder if we'd be tuning in solely for the thrill of possibility – that our friend might slip and fall to his death at any moment.
It's a concern that echoes through history, from Red Bull's Felix Baumgartner jump in 2012 to the Formula One crashes that have captivated fans worldwide. In each instance, there's an unspoken expectation that viewers are witnessing something extraordinary – albeit one with inherent risks.
The irony is that Netflix wants Skyscraper Live to remain a standalone event, rather than encouraging more high-risk live broadcasts like Free Diving or Rooftop Parkour. And for good reason – by capitalizing on the allure of human risk-taking, the company risks turning its "Live" series into a Victorian freak show.
As the article concludes, it's crucial that we reassess our fascination with this type of programming and prioritize genuine adventure over calculated risks. Our sphincters may have been able to handle the thrill of Skyscraper Live, but should we be willing to watch others risk their lives for our entertainment? Only time will tell if Netflix decides to take a different approach – one that prioritizes responsible thrills over reckless stunts.