Patrick Schwarzenegger, Sarah Catherine Hook and Sam Nivola in a scene from "The White Lotus". For this writer, it began in Hawaii. On July 11, 2021, as much of Australia navigated Covid-19 lockdown restrictions, a handful of high-net-worth guests cruised the waters off Maui before disembarking at the fictional White Lotus resort. Viewers watched as the hotel’s neurotic manager, Armand (played by Murray Bartlett), flanked by other “pleasant interchangeable helpers”, welcomed the visitors for a week of pampering, HBO sanctioned class satire, and even death (no spoilers!).
Like millions of others, I devoured “The White Lotus” weekly. Written and directed by Mike White, the series followed the incompatible honeymooners Shane and Rachel, the self-righteous Mossbacher family, the grieving and emotionally unstable Tanya, and the resort’s staff, led by Armand and spa manager Belinda. But an hour lounging by the adults-only pool wasn’t enough – my appetite for “White Lotus” content was insatiable. I blitzed through promotional interviews and episode reviews before turning to audio, pressing play on any podcast that featured “The White Lotus” in its episode title or description.
The season finale gave me answers to the body in the box mystery – and a moderate to severe dependence on recap and parallel podcasts. I hoped to leave my addiction in Maui but scheduling allowed for the network’s third season of “Succession” to pick up where “The White Lotus” had left off. An hour with the feuding Roy family soon facilitated four to five hours of podcast bingeing (go-tos were “The Prestige TV Podcast”, “Still Watching”, and “The Watch”). “Succession” ended but I filled time with “The Crown”, “Beef”, and “The Bear”. Like a guest trying to outrun their problems through Mai Tai cocktails at a White Lotus swim-up bar, there appeared no limit to the number of episodes I could consume. At a particularly low point a few weeks ago I found myself searching for a podcast series that followed season two of the “The Traitors” UK – a reality gameshow that ended over a year ago.
If television used to be a relatively passive pastime, the advent of social media, forums such as Reddit, and (my poison) the companion podcast, has turned it into a full-time intellectual pursuit. And this shift towards an analytical brand of fandom is not limited to the small screen – ask any “Swiftie” in your orbit. But it does seem to be reshaping the landscape of television, particularly ‘prestige’ programming, and turning shows like “The White Lotus”, “Succession”, and “Severance” into ongoing omnichannel investigations.
Elly Lau, a behavioural analyst at global strategic insights practice Canvas8, describes this as the “era of the expanding universe”, where television is no longer a standalone experience. “Twenty-four-seven content streams have become so embedded in our lives that people want continuously expanding universes across multimedia formats,” says Lau. “Just watching a show or a movie isn’t enough as a standalone product in the attention economy. We as audiences are constantly hungry for more to keep us hooked.”
Unaffiliated recap podcasts emerged as a direct response to this appetite, and once networks caught wind of the engagement potential they invested in their own official extensions. “Still Watching” and “Post Show Recaps” kicked off “Succession”-focused series at the commencement of the show’s second season in 2019, before HBO launched its official iteration, “HBO’s Succession Podcast” in 2020. Similarly, “Severed: The Ultimate Severance Podcast” started breaking down scenes, theories and other Lumon lore from the puzzle-box thriller about corporate dystopia in 2023, after which the show’s star, Adam Scott, and executive producer and director, Ben Stiller, teamed up in 2024 to host “The Severance Podcast” (notably not sponsored by the show’s streamer Apple TV+).
Companion podcasts serve a similar function: they extend the lifespan of a show, making it culturally relevant before its season premiere and long after its finale. They also deliver a degree of specificity that traditional pre-season coverage cannot – post-watch episodes allow cast, crew and fans to turn over character motivations, creative decision making and as-they-happen plot points in explicit detail. It’s insider intel delivered in the tone of a conversation with friends.
Beyond prolonging engagement, the rise of companion content also speaks to a deeper shift. “People have turned to fandom to find a sense of belonging and community since time immemorial,” Lau says. “But what’s new, especially for young people dealing with a loneliness epidemic, is how fandoms provide a powerful avenue for connection.”
The act of watching TV has become increasingly solitary, fragmented by streaming platforms that let us binge entire seasons in isolation. Companion podcasts fill this gap by recreating the watercooler gossip and theory-swapping that appointment television once inspired. As Lau points out, “people aren’t necessarily tuning into them as a resource for criticism, but maybe to replicate this feeling of communal viewing that’s become lost to siloed, passive consumption in the streaming era.”
This communal aspect might explain why so many of these podcasts are hosted by familiar faces from the shows themselves. Rewatch series like “Office Ladies” (hosted by Jenna Fischer and Angela Kinsey of “The Office”) or “Welcome to the OC, Bitches” (from “The OC” stars Rachel Bilson and Melinda Clarke) offer audiences an auditory intimacy – just shy of a parasocial friendship with the actors they once watched on screen.
And it’s not only actors. Evan Ross Katz, the New York-based pop culture purveyor, podcaster, and writer, turned his nearly 400,000-strong Instagram following and enthusiastic support for “The White Lotus” into a gig hosting the show’s official lookback podcast series. The seven-part podcast precursor to season three featured deep-dives into the first two seasons, interviews with cast and crew, and an analysis of White’s career to date (White has previously called Katz the “most valuable hype man in the history of television”). Journalists Jia Tolentino and Joshuah Bearman have since taken the reins, hosting the show’s companion to series three.
Of course, there’s a trade-off to all this access. While companion podcasts promise insider knowledge, they can also blur the lines between journalism and marketing. As Lau notes, “These podcasts are often tied to the creative team – directors, producers, writers – which privileges authorial intent as the definitive interpretation of the work.”
When a podcast is produced in-house by a network, it’s not just a conversation; it’s brand management. In a series like Stiller and Scott’s “Severance” podcast, for example, their commentary is treated as canon, shaping how fans (and fellow podcasters) interpret the series.
Companion podcasts challenge a long-held belief: that once art is released into the world, it belongs to the audience. The joy of interpretation, of speculation, of being even a little bit wrong, has historically been part of fandom. Now, companion podcasts offer a more guided, authoritative take. Does this added access enrich our understanding, or subtly dictate it?
Recently I’ve been interrogating my bloated companion podcast diet. Am I looking for more information to shape my understanding – more context, or alternative perspectives that expand my own worldview? Am I chasing the age-old desire for a friend (or friend avatar) reaffirming my love for a show? Or am I looking for someone else to tell me how to think and feel about a moment in the zeitgeist?
It’s likely a mix of all three, with ratios subject to change at a moment’s notice. The question is whether these expanding universes enhance or dilute our relationship with the original creative property.
In a recent episode of the “White Lotus” podcast, Tolentino and Bearman interviewed the show’s executive producer David Bernard. He told them about a location scouting trip to Thailand, during which White contracted bronchitis and ended up in a local hospital in Chiang Mai.
“They put Mike on this nebuliser, which I guess is like a really strong steroid and he ended up hallucinating, and he hallucinated the season,” said Bernard. “He got out of the hospital; he came into the van. I was there and he goes, ‘I had the most vivid dreams last night. I was on the steroid, and I couldn’t sleep’. And he told me what he dreamt, and that is what we shot. It is almost exactly that.”
Some viewers would prefer not to know how the sausage is made – an episode of their favourite show lives and dies within the allocated screen time, and a glimpse behind the curtain ruins the magic of the experience. As a writer who, like many others, sometimes feels burnt out creatively, the fact that Mike White conceived season three in a fever dream didn’t just deepen my affection for the show – it made me hopeful about what inspiration might emerge from my own next bout of illness.
Picking apart every detail, debating theories, and seeking out behind-the-scenes insights can be consuming, as many vivid stories are. Obsession, after all, is just another form of devotion. And while some might argue that true art should stand alone, in an age where connection feels increasingly fragmented there might be something valuable in the way these expanded universes bring us together. Whether it’s a companion podcast, a Reddit deep-dive, or an actor-helmed rewatch series, the desire to stay immersed doesn’t need to be a flaw. If anything, it’s proof that the original property – the television show – has done its job: it has made us care.
