Forbidden Fruit
Netflix has forgotten who they are and where they came from.
Back in their early years, Netflix modestly started their company as a media rental service, which was essentially a mail-order version of Blockbuster. With the injection of Internet streaming alongside their subscription model, this moderately innovative movie rental service bloomed into a media tycoon, boasting the addition of entire seasons of TV shows and a library of movies at the audience’s disposal. This ultimately led to the emergence of binge-watching culture and essential streaming platform models that modern society has latched onto. Netflix customarily became a platform where audiences would seek out scripted content, nine consecutive seasons of The Office, and a 10th rewatch of Blades of Glory. Over time, for other things like sports, live events, or awards shows, it was understood that viewers had to stream elsewhere.
Via u/twinsterphoto
While audiences were binge watching entire seasons of Lost on Netflix, sports fans were jumping ship to pay-per-view, and other live event streamers. This was the natural order of the broadcasting world until Netflix decided they wanted it all, and they would risk anyone’s life to do it.
With the goal of piercing the live broadcast market, Netflix has made a few flimsy initial attempts to broadcast live events, primarily targeting the spotting world. “[Netflix] aggressively promoted a live prize fight between boxers Mike Tyson and Jake Paul,” says Dominick Mastrangelo, a journalist from The Hill, “which it hoped will drive subscriptions rates, pay dividends and justify future investments in live offerings.” While this now-infamous mash-up paved the way for Netflix’s 2025 ten-year contract with WWE live streaming, everyone mostly remembers the Mike Tyson/Jake Paul boxing fight as a colossal failure. It left Netflix servers pinwheeling, tanked the entire platform, and ended in ultimate disappointment. But did that remind Netflix to stay in their lane? Of course not!
Instead, they doubled down, spending years and nearly $5 billion to usher in their latest attempt at sports sensationalization, which proves that Netflix is willing to risk it all for advertising revenue. Fights are one thing, but by dipping their toe into the extreme sports world, Netflix is banking on a livestreaming event that is risky in more ways than one. Essentially, they have bitten off more than they can chew withSkyscraper Live. The ad revenue from the sporting world is enticing to executives, However, in this case, it has become the forbidden fruit causing Netflix’s to broadcast the mortal danger of a man’s life on live TV.
Modern Gladiators
Sports are entertaining, but live events like boxing and WWE mimic the entertainment preferences of the ancient Romans. Audiences like to watch a fight for both the battle itself and the brutality; it’s basic human nature, I suppose. Most sports, like football, soccer, and basketball echo ancient battle tactics with minimal risk, but extreme sports resonate more with the macabre crowd who secretly wish for an opponent's demise. The suspenseful and tantalizing “live” aspect of any sports broadcast brings out this primitive nature, especially without any context of an athlete’s preparation, personality, or painstaking training. Unless audiences feel as if they know the athlete on screen, how can their life-threatening risks be personal or meaningful? At this point, they simply become anonymous modern gladiators, risking it all for a popcorn-worthy flashbang of entertainment.
By livestreaming Honnold's Taipei skyscraper climb, Netflix is undoubtedly admitting they would rejoice in his downfall for the sake of good television and shock-and-awe entertainment. That’s extremely dark, yet Netflix’s ambition and obsession with live events is obviously blinding.
Via u/alexhonnold and u/netflix
Alex Honnold is certainly no stranger to free solo climbing, pioneering this daring rock climbing discipline where climbers forfeit the use of safety equipment and climb without life-saving protection. Honnold initially rose to fame in 2008 when he free soloed Half Dome, and photos and videos from this attempt remain absolutely iconic to climbers. However, in 2018, with the release of a widely distributed documentary called, Free Solo, Honnold shook the climbing community and the entire world. He climbed the 3,000 foot face of El Capitan in Yosemite without ropes, and had legendary documentarian Jimmy Chin document every crimp, every meticulous move, and the multi-year preparation to tackle this challenge. Throughout the 1 hour 40 minute documentary-style presentation of this epic story, audiences were shown a journey of risk, reward, and tactical precision, which made the feat so much more meaningful.
This depth and nuance is lost on live events, which focus 100% on the present, ignoring the decades of preparation, personal backstory, and the overwhelming drama of free solo feats. So sure, Alex Honnold, physically, can probably climb the tallest skyscraper in Taiwan, but framing this feat under the lens of a live event is not only morbid, but diminishes the meaningfulness of Honnold’s lifetime of training and achievements.
Just a few days ago, Honnold completed a climbing feat in Red Rock Canyon that actually dwarf’s Taipei 101. It wasn’t broadcast, it wasn’t flashy, but Alex Honnold posted a collection of photos on his personal Instagram showcasing a quadruple solo day, which he claims is in preparation for Taipei 101. However, many climbers on social media are familiar with Honnold’s quirkiness, humble brags, and exceptional ability. So this 12.5-hour mission is on par with a 43-pitch solo trek spanning 35 miles and 23,000ft of vertical gain. Honnold regularly posts about mind-boggling achievements, casually discussing climbs that would rattle even the most experienced climber’s bones.
Via u/alexhonnold
What is surprising is that Netflix is refusing to create content that’s worthy of an iconic athlete’s exceptional ability. They are not honoring climbing as a sport or Honnold’s amazing career. Instead, they choose to lean into live broadcasts and ostentatious showboating, sensationalizing his potential demise to ravenous audiences without prefacing the extreme measures taken to get to this level of climbing confidence.
Down-Climbing
It’s tough for extreme athletes to cash in on their passion, so if Alex Honnold can make some money from Netflix’s fixation on live broadcasting, all power to him. While, as a fan and fellow climber, I don’t think that Honnold will slip and fall on his heroic attempt to free solo 101 stories of urban building structure. However, I do believe there is certainly a Netflix executive who secretly hopes he tumbles on camera, and that therein lies the biggest issue. By lazily livestreaming this feat instead of turning it into an in-depth documentary, Netflix has proven that they no longer care to create moving, long-haul content. They are shifting their focus towards cheap, neanderthalic sports broadcasting.
Alex Honnold’s climb may be precarious, but not as precarious as Netflix’s latest push for live broadcast. Leading them down a path of almost certain platform destruction. So Netflix, stop trying to make live events happen, it’s not going to happen.