Why “Good But Unnecessary” Movies Like ‘El Camino’ and ‘Between Two Ferns’ Are Actually, In Fact, Quite Necessary

Breaking Bad and Between Two Ferns are as different as two shows can be. One is the story of a seemingly good man’s descent into the evil that had always lurked within him, a descent driven by ego, jealousy, and lust for power, set against the backdrop of the meth underworld, shot meticulously for major-cable television. The other is a sporadically produced web series about real celebrities’ descent into a fake cable-access talk show, absorbing pretend insults by a seemingly stupid man (Zach Galifianakis), set against two houseplants, featuring 8-bit graphics littered with typos, shot with a single camera. The only reason to mention them together is that they were both made into full-length movies this year, thanks to Netflix.

Breaking Bad is the more likely of the two to get the movie treatment because Vince Gilligan and crew had so many interesting avenues to explore: cleaning up loose ends from the finale, making a new connection between the original show and Better Call Saul, fleshing out a side story within the timeline of the series, or going outside the timeline to shed more light on the not-all-good life of Gene Takovic in Omaha.

Between Two Ferns‘ Scott Aukerman had fewer obvious options for what story to tell and how to tell it, plus he had to answer a fundamental question: why would you turn that into a movie? It wasn’t even a full TV show, averaging between three and six minutes, and it’s not like people were looking for an origin story for the ferns. He did have one advantage, though: the idea was so absurd that expectations were sure to be extremely low.

Yet while the finished movies are as different as their source material, the reaction of critics was pretty much the same: good, but unnecessary. What’s unnecessary is the caveat, not the movies. First, there is no such thing as unnecessary entertainment, good or bad. And even if there were such thing, now would not be the time to discourage it.

Here’s why:

Netflix, Amazon, Apple, and Disney are pouring billions into their streaming services, so if you add that to the traditional movie studios and old-fashioned TV, it’s possible to make nearly limitless bets on ideas that sound terrible but might be good. True, the odds that they will hit on those bets aren’t any different than they’ve always been (which means even more dreck), but more bets equal more jackpots. It’s a bit like the infinite monkey theorem, which says that if you give a roomful of monkeys typewriters enough time, one will randomly type Hamlet word for word. It would be crazy not to let this experiment play out in the real world.

There are downsides to the current content bonanza, however. Most prominently there’s the Martin Scorsese argument—we’re not getting cinema but a bunch of amusement-park movies and streaming TV—but not too long ago a “necessary” bomb could kill other projects or even studios. Today not even a Francis Ford Coppola production could bankrupt Jeff Bezos. And if streaming is crowding out cinema, Scorsese is crowding out unknown younger actors by using de-aging technology to be able to cast Robert De Niro in yet another gangster movie. The implications of where that could go—no more real-life actors onscreen—are arguably far worse than having more content but on smaller screens.

Big Screen vs. Big Stream aside, some entertainment really is more important than others, and well-done original stories like Us are usually more interesting than a reboot, sequel, or TV-turned-movie. Usually, but not always, and the exceptions make the misses worth it.

For instance:

Twin Peaks was a 1990s TV show that was at first very good but got pretty bad thanks to meddling by the network. Despite the disappointing second season and resulting cancellation, David Lynch decided to make a Twin Peaks movie few asked for and fewer understood. So it was reasonable to expect its resurrection on Showtime 25 years later would be another disappointing chapter for the briefly revolutionary show. Instead it was a triumph, giving us one of the most spectacular episodes of TV ever aired. And it doesn’t take the involvement of a genius like David Lynch to make this happen, unless he’s secretly responsible for the deeply affecting A Very Brady Renovation.

Then there’s Paddington 2, the least necessary, most wonderful movie of the decade. Even if you liked the first one—and you did unless you’re a monster—you still had to wonder whether there was really any point in making a sequel. But after seeing Hugh Grant doing a musical number in a pink prison uniform, the question is whether there is any point making anything but Paddington movies for every available screen, big or small.

So before the bubble bursts, let’s keep feeding those typing monkeys. We might not get another Hamlet out of it, but it would be worth it even for another Hamlet 2. Especially considering Apple is paying for the bananas.

Jason Hartley is a writer, musician, and high-powered advertising executive based in Brooklyn, NY. He is the author of The Advanced Genius Theory and can be found on Twitter at @advancedgenius.