I suspect it has become a small rite of passage in new friendships to share access to each other’s Netflix queues. Just peeking at someone else’s can give you a unique perspective on his/her personality. There’s the opportunity to collaborate on who’ll order what, and in what order. The Web gives community, and the Web taketh it away. While I now have a broader base of cinema-at-home resources, I’ve also lost the pithy interaction with those lovable-but-surly slacker dudes running the local rental shop. Located conveniently between my local pub and a wicked bakery, I always admired their incredible slouching technique that allowed for simultaneous and continuous consumption of Chinese takeout from across the street, manipulation of the TV remote, and cash register operation. At least their very human/analog “You might also like” recommendations were more relevant than all of Netflix’s predictable calculations.
I am not alone. Those little red envelopes are endemic in NYC. They’re in my neighbors’ mail bins, being used as bookmarks by people riding the subway, and blowing down the street, crumpled and dirty.
So, I’m bought in. Until streaming media matures, and until cinema prices drop (or they start serving booze at the movies), I’ll be working my way through that queue. Oh, and if you’re a Netflix subscriber and you haven’t gone into your user profile to view your rental history, do so. It’s a snapshot of the passage of time—and what you’ve chosen to watch during that time. Taking a look at that list is what made me stop and ponder for a moment, instead of just looking forward to my next red envelope.
Photo courtesy of Netflix
