Category: Uncategorized

What does female friendship look like when the stakes turn lethal?
Friendship, weaponized. Heaven from Belfast draws 60% female viewership with 83% aged 35+, a notably older skew than Derry Girls (70% female, 53% 35+) while closely matching Bad Sisters (67% female, 84% 35+). The female skew sits slightly lower than both comparison titles, and the drivers suggest why: Life in Danger (148) and Scary Situations (139) sit alongside Female Friendship (160) and Friendship Conflict (160), elements that broaden the show’s appeal beyond its female core. Saoirse, Robyn, and Dara aren’t just looking for answers about Greta. They’re protecting a secret they’ve all carried since adolescence, one that makes finding her as dangerous as losing her. McGee’s thesis hasn’t changed: women keep each other alive. What’s changed is the price of getting it wrong.

How does a show make you laugh at a secret that got someone killed?
The darker the secret, the sharper the joke. Death of a Loved One (160) is the strongest episode-to-episode pull for Heaven from Belfast, outpacing Bad Sisters‘ Twisted Humor (117) and Murder (115) by a significant margin. The intrigue isn’t the body in the casket. It’s what the empty casket threatens to surface: a buried journalist, a cult called Heaven’s Veil, and three women who know more than they’re saying. Searching for the Truth (119) and Sarcastic Humor (134) work together here the way they did for Derry Girls: the humor is armor, and the armor keeps cracking. That’s what thirty years of shared secrets does to a friendship. The closer they get to the truth, the harder it is to keep laughing.

Why does a murder mystery play better as a road trip?
The mystery is the excuse. The friendship is the destination. Derry Girls built its world through Feel Good Humor (160), Coming of Age (160), and Awkward & Funny Moments (152), drivers tied to a specific place and life stage. Heaven from Belfast travels differently. Sarcastic Humor pulls viewers through episode after episode, with Underdogs (120) keeping the show alive long after any single mystery resolves. Three women breaking down in remote Irish towns, bickering over diesel and petrol, dragging each other through a mystery none of them fully understands. Every mile generates new friction. Every breakdown reveals something the four walls of a living room never would. It’s less murder mystery than buddy comedy. The secret pulls them across Ireland. The friendship keeps them there.

What separates Heaven from Belfast from its own creative lineage?
The data draws a clean line. Derry Girls kept its darkness at the margins, its genre scores reflecting that: Horror (92), Mystery (88), and Thriller (81), all Average or below. Bad Sisters pushed further, scoring high on Mystery (122) and Thriller (115). Heaven from Belfast goes further still. Horror (125) and Mystery (124) both score Outstanding, territory neither comparison title reaches. Heaven from Belfast‘s emotional profile confirms it: Love (137) and Disgust (134) score alongside Disapproval (130) and Aggressiveness (121). A relocation network with a kill order. A childhood atrocity at a rural religious commune. Three amateur investigators who are also accomplices. The show puts all of that in the same room as genuine warmth and earns it, and the genre scores prove it isn’t an accident.

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Who is watching a disgraced NFL star try to rewrite his own story?
An older, evenly split audience. Reggie Dinkins lands at 45% female and 85% aged 35+, tracking closely with Ted Lasso (52% female, 80% 35+) and Stick (47% female, 81% 35+). All three shows wear sports on the surface but broaden their reach through domestic stakes. Family Relationships (157) leads Reggie Dinkins‘ viewership drivers. Ted Lasso edges more female through Feel Good Humor (119) and Dysfunctional Relationship (127), leaning into emotional accessibility over competition. Stick connects through Awkward & Funny Moments (141) and Mentorship (132). The pattern across the comp set: sports comedies reach this demo when the sport is the backdrop and relationships are the hook.

What turns a puff piece into must-watch TV?
The camera won’t blink. Where Ted Lasso leaned on Competitiveness (124) and Stick on Supportive Relationships (134), Reggie Dinkins runs on a rawer engine: the public record of a self-inflicted fall. Public Exposure (News Reports, 140) is the show’s highest bingeability driver, the constant presence of footage that can be replayed, recontextualized, and used against him at any moment. Awkward & Funny Moments (119) and Talking Heads (119) turn that exposure into a rhythm of cringe, confession, and comic release. Arthur Tobin (Daniel Radcliffe), an Oscar winner in his own professional exile, was hired to make a highlight reel. He’s filming something honest instead. Their Unlikely Friendship (112), built on conflicting agendas and a shared need to matter again, is the show’s emotional anchor.

What’s pulling audiences to the couch?
The thrill of watching someone refuse to stop talking. Family (135) dominates Reggie Dinkins‘ emotional profile for viewership, towering over Stick (104) and Ted Lasso (106). But the signature is what surrounds it: Surprise (122) and Terror (122) both score Outstanding, with Aggressiveness (113), Anger (113), and Anticipation (113) all Promising. This isn’t the emotional engine of a feel-good sports comedy. It’s the engine of a show where audiences are leaning forward, waiting for the next unfiltered confession, the next foot-in-mouth moment caught on camera, the next family secret that spills out because a documentary crew happened to be rolling. Ted Lasso ran on optimism and warmth. Reggie Dinkins runs on the electric cringe of a man with no filter and a camera that never stops rolling.

What keeps audiences coming back?
Characters who always have something left to prove. Sports Focus (139) and Road to Redemption (134) anchor the show’s longevity profile. All three comps share the same structural engine: a protagonist who hasn’t earned their place back yet. Stick sustains through Underdogs (137) and Coach-Athlete Relationship (129). Ted Lasso held with Coach-Athlete Relationship (118) and Fish Out of Water (116). What separates Reggie Dinkins is the weight of a known, self-inflicted fall. The show doesn’t need Reggie to reach the Hall of Fame to keep going. It just needs him to keep reaching.

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Who’s watching a dark comedy set in the safest town in America?
Women over 35, and they already love this genre. The ‘Burbs draws 65% female viewership with 75% aged 35+, numbers that map almost exactly onto Only Murders in the Building (62% female, 75% 35+) and Based on a True Story (61% female, 76% 35+). The show’s standout IP Extension (140) tells part of the story: the premise travels. But what The ‘Burbs uniquely offers this audience is a protagonist whose discomfort with the neighborhood runs deeper than the mystery. Samira is a new mother, a city transplant, and an outsider in a place that has decided, long before she arrived, exactly who belongs there and who doesn’t. Nobody is better positioned to notice when the town’s carefully maintained image starts to crack.

What turns a cul-de-sac of strangers into a team?
A found family forged by fear. Only Murders in the Building builds its Unlikely Friendship (128) through genuine warmth between three mismatched neighbors. Based on a True Story binds its duo through a Dysfunctional Relationship (114) and a shared secret. The ‘Burbs earns its Unlikely Friendship (130) through neither. What assembles Samira’s cul-de-sac crew is a towering Scary Situations (141): a neighbor seen buying an axe, a dog fixated on a cellar door, shadows moving behind the windows of the Hinkley House. The show forces people who would never otherwise socialize into a team, and wrings every awkward, horrifying, darkly comic drop out of that dynamic.

What gives The ‘Burbs more staying power than a standard whodunit?
Paranoia has somewhere real to land. The 1989 film played suburban suspicion as comedy, a bored dad who turns out to be mostly right. The 2026 series roots that same suspicion in a 20-year-old cold case and a protagonist who has personal reasons to distrust the neighborhood long before she finds any evidence. A Subculture Up Close (130) isn’t just an atmospheric choice here. It’s the mechanism through which Samira’s outsider status generates both humor and genuine unease. The show’s Murder Mystery (117) carries social weight that Based on a True Story and Only Murders in the Building don’t, because Samira isn’t only investigating what happened to the missing girl. She’s determining whether a town that decides who belongs can ever be safe for someone like her.

What would bring viewers back to Hinkley Hills?
A mystery solved, a town to unravel. Only Murders in the Building proves that audiences return when the investigation team is worth spending time with. Its loyal fanbase is built on the trio Teaming Up (120) to Solve a Murder (128), a combination that tells us the mystery is the engine but the relationships are the fuel. The ‘Burbs matches that profile and adds something new: a protagonist whose position in the neighborhood doesn’t resolve cleanly at the end of a season. The show leaves something larger open, the suggestion that Hinkley Hills’ reputation isn’t just small-town pride but an institution actively maintained, possibly at others’ expense. The danger isn’t one bad neighbor. It’s the neighborhood itself. Audiences aren’t just invested in what happened to the girl gone missing. They’re invested in whether Samira can keep pulling at a string that unravels the whole town.

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Who is watching a Game of Thrones show without dragons? 
An older, male-leaning audience. AKOTSK skews 62% male with 88% aged 35+, compared to Game of Thrones (53% male, 76% aged 35+) and House of the Dragon (53% male, 90% aged 35+). The male tilt tracks directly to the show’s focus on Physical Activity (136), reflecting the jousting, swordplay, and physical trials of a hedge knight fighting his way into legitimacy, and Honor (128), the chivalric code that defines Dunk’s identity. Both far outpace the franchise’s traditional emphasis on Power (GoT: 128, HotD: 122), signaling an audience drawn to aspirational heroism over political maneuvering.

How does A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms make smallness feel epic?
By grounding stakes in character. AKOTSK reframes franchise storytelling through intimacy rather than spectacle, pairing Action & Violence (120) with Buddy Comedy (117) to relocate tension from the throne room to the bond between hedge knight Ser Duncan “Dunk” the Tall and his diminutive squire, Egg. Bravery (119) and Journey of Self Discovery (112) generate narrative pull not through political scheming but through two people figuring out who they are together. The show’s humor doesn’t play for laughs so much as it reveals character, making Dunk’s naivety and Egg’s quiet cunning feel lived-in and real.

What emotional experience separates this show from the rest of the franchise?
A hero navigating from the bottom up. AKOTSK’s emotional signature clusters around Admiration (117), Submission (114), and Independence (112), three forces that map the internal experience of a lowborn knight in a rigid feudal world. Dunk earns Admiration through action rather than birthright, bends to the rules of a system that wasn’t built for him (Submission), yet continually asserts his own moral code (Independence). Previous franchise entries filtered these same emotions through royals and power brokers. AKOTSK runs them through a nobody with a borrowed sword, and the audience feels the difference.

What keeps viewers coming back week to week?
Common heroism over political schemes. AKOTSK sustains momentum through Dunk’s drive to Overcome Adversity (134) in the Trial of the Seven and outlast his Competition (126), Prince Aerion Targaryen. As battle lines form, the warmth between Dunk and Egg anchors the emotional throughline, giving audiences a relationship to root for rather than a power struggle to decode. Strong IP Extension (118) signals a sustainable franchise blueprint: a hedge knight and his sharp-witted squire, stumbling through a richly realized world together.

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Who’s actually watching a teen skating drama? 
Not who you’d expect. Early viewership data shows Finding Her Edge trending 76% female and 80% aged 35+, a significantly older and more female-skewing audience than Heartstopper (58% female, 42% aged 35+) or The Summer I Turned Pretty (82% female, 48% aged 35+). The female affinity is consistent across all three, but Finding Her Edge separates itself on age, suggesting something in its storytelling is connecting with viewers well past their YA years.

Why does teen angst play older here than anywhere else?
Survival stakes, not summer stakes. Finding Her Edge and The Summer I Turned Pretty are both book-adapted YA romances with strong female audiences and sibling dynamics baked in. But TSITP frames its emotional world through Partying (121), Coming of Age (121), and Sibling Relationship (116): low-consequence settings where the worst outcome is a broken heart. Finding Her Edge cranks those same YA ingredients to even stronger levels with Teen Angst (160), Sibling Relationship (156), and Tough Decisions (144), routing emotional turbulence through a family skating dynasty hemorrhaging money. Adriana’s angst isn’t about who she’s kissing at a beach house. It’s about whether her competitive comeback can generate enough sponsorship dollars to keep her family from losing everything.

What keeps viewers locked in ?
Identity under siege. Teen Angst (143) drives episode-to-episode urgency, but it’s the supporting cast of drivers that reveals why this show sustains beyond its genre. Coming of Age (125) and Teen Romance (116) keep the romantic tension alive, while Life Changing Decision (124), Journey of Self Discovery (123), and Road to Redemption (123) ensure Adriana’s story feels consequential rather than sentimental. Heartstopper sustains engagement through School Setting (148) and Teen Life (131). Finding Her Edge runs on Inner Conflict (120) and Ambition & Drive (116), treating identity formation as something with real professional and financial consequences, not just hurt feelings.

What does Finding Her Edge reveal about YA’s real ceiling?
There isn’t one, if the stakes grow up. The emotional vocabulary of YA (angst, romance, self-discovery) appears throughout Finding Her Edge‘s driver profile at the same Outstanding levels that power Heartstopper and The Summer I Turned Pretty. What changes is the world those drivers operate in. TSITP wraps its emotional core in Mother-Child Relationships (139), On Vacation (122), and Looking for Love (119): figuring out your heart at a beach house. Heartstopper builds through School Setting (148), Teen Romance (144), and Teen Friendships (128): finding yourself between classes. Finding Her Edge runs the same emotional engines through Life Changing Decision (124), Inner Conflict (120), and Ambition & Drive (116), territory where mistakes cost careers and livelihoods, not just feelings. YA’s core drivers don’t weaken with age. They just need stakes that don’t.

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Who is responding to this meta Hollywood take on the MCU? 
Balanced appeal, different route. Wonder Man skews 60% men with 63% of viewers aged 35+, placing it between Daredevil: Born Again (67% men, 71% aged 35+) and Agatha All Along (51% women, 62% aged 35+). Rather than reaching balance through demographic targeting, Wonder Man lands in the middle by widening its appeal through tone, using comedy and workplace satire to soften the edges of a traditionally action-driven genre.

How does Wonder Man turn restraint into advantage?
Wonder Man reframes superhero ability as liability rather than destiny, pairing Marvel Universe (160) and Superpowers (153) with Awkward Misadventures (146) and Secret Identity (146) to relocate stakes from world-ending threats to exposure, embarrassment, and professional survival. The series’ dramatic device, the Doorman Clause, an industry-wide ban on superpowered performers after a troubling on-set accident, turns powers into a career-ending risk and forces Simon Williams to suppress his abilities to stay employable. Driven by Ambition & Drive (138), the show replaces action escalation with social pressure, using discomfort and humor as its primary engines of tension.

What keeps viewers watching episode to episode?
Comedy replaces combat. Instead of missions and set pieces, Wonder Man sustains momentum through character friction and emotional consequence, with Returning Character (142) elevating Trevor Slattery, familiar to audiences from Iron Man 3 and Shang-Chi, from punchline to unstable mentor. Life Changing Decision (128) reframes the season’s central tension from whether Simon becomes a hero to whether Trevor betrays his only real friend to save himself. Short episode runtimes maintain pace, while the Doorman origin episode reframes action as a cautionary tale, reinforcing that relationship stakes can sustain engagement without escalating physical conflict.

What does Wonder Man add to Marvel’s streaming mix?
Character outperforms chaos. Wonder Man demonstrates that character-led storytelling can sustain audience engagement alongside Marvel’s more action-driven series, reinforcing the value of a Spotlight-style lane within a broader portfolio. Journey of Self Discovery (135) emerges as a strong long-term engagement driver, suggesting that intimacy, tone, and emotional specificity can complement large-scale franchise storytelling without diluting brand strength.

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Who’s watching this show? 
More age-balanced than some Murphy horror. The Beauty draws 63% aged 30+, aligning with American Horror Story (63% aged 35+) and Nip/Tuck (59% aged 35+) rather than Grotesquerie‘s heavily older audience (92% aged 35+) or The Strain (73% aged 35+). The broader age appeal likely reflects the premise: where Grotesquerie leaned into religious horror and The Strain built around vampire mythology, The Beauty‘s “Ozempic culture” satire and wellness-industry critique connect with viewers across generations navigating today’s transformation-obsessed landscape.

Why tune in?
Conspiracy meets chaos. Secret Organization (117) and Chaotic Lifestyle (115) drive initial tune-in, with Based on a Book (115) lending source-material credibility from the 2015 Image Comics series. The FBI investigation structure provides familiar procedural scaffolding while the shadowy “Corporation” villain (Ashton Kutcher) and global conspiracy stakes differentiate it from Murphy’s anthology approach. Where AHS hooks viewers with Haunted House (140) and Evil Spirits (139), The Beauty trades supernatural dread for corporate techno-thriller paranoia, betting that Big Pharma villainy resonates more than ghosts in 2026.

What keeps them watching?
Unhinged perspectives. Eccentric Character POV (120) leads all engagement drivers, reflecting the series’ multiple viewpoint structure: basement-dwelling incel Jeremy, billionaire sociopath Byron Forst, and the assassin enforcing the cover-up. Power Struggle (111) and Charisma & Confidence (110) sustain momentum as characters compete for control of the virus. The Strain relied on Human/non-Human Relationship (160) and Vampires (153) for its outbreak thrills; The Beauty substitutes monster mythology with the more unsettling horror of people voluntarily infecting themselves for vanity.

What does it feel like?
Visceral revulsion, by design. Terror (119) and Disgust (114) define the emotional experience, a marked escalation from Nip/Tuck‘s comparatively tame Disgust (99). Murphy has described the series as one of his most disturbing works, and the data supports it: the show delivers a consistent emotional assault across Vengeance, Surprise, Rage, and Aggressiveness (all 112). This isn’t the slow-burn dread of AHS but sustained shock value, aligning with Murphy’s stated goal of making viewers physically uncomfortable while interrogating why we’d sacrifice everything for beauty.

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Who’s pressing play on this period mystery? 
Women, predominantly. Seven Dials pulls 65% female viewers and skews heavily 30+ (78%), notably higher than Poker Face (48% women / 79% aged 30+) and edging out Only Murders in the Building (60% women / 70% aged 30+). The period setting and Bundle’s central role as detective both likely contribute to the strong female appeal.

Why are viewers tuning in?
Betrayals over bodies. Seven Dials‘ top ratings driver is Supportive Relationships (154), and those relationships are what make the eventual betrayals devastating. Bundle investigates alongside her mother (Mother-Child Relationships, 136), her late brother’s friends, and Superintendent Battle, creating bonds that feel genuine before the show systematically destroys them. The series weaponizes Scary Situations (130) and Death of a Loved One (129) to raise the stakes on who Bundle can trust, while Romantic Tension (123) adds another layer of complexity to the investigation.

What’s keeping audiences hooked through all three episodes?
Bundle’s determination under pressure. The show’s top bingeability driver is Strong Female Protagonist (145), and Bundle delivers as a capable detective who refuses to quit. The series deploys Sarcastic Humor (132) through Lady Caterham’s cutting wit, keeping things from getting too heavy while the Emotional Roller Coaster (144) of grief and betrayal maintains real stakes. The three-episode structure creates a genuine Race Against Time (122) with zero filler, keeping the Murder Mystery (122) momentum strong throughout.

What emotional experience is the show delivering?
Thrills that empower. Seven Dials balances intense negative emotions (Surprise, 118; Terror, 118; Fear, 115) with aspirational ones (Awe, 113; Independence, 110), creating an experience where viewers get genuine scares without feeling helpless. Bundle faces real danger but never loses agency, transforming what could be standard thriller anxiety into something more satisfying. It’s fear with a safety net: audiences know Bundle’s scared but also capable of saving herself.

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Who’s been tuning in for this twisty thriller? 
Women, predominantly. His & Hers pulls 60% female viewers and skews heavily 30+ (83%), though it’s slightly less female-skewing than most mysteries in this category, likely because Jon Bernthal’s detective Jack shares equal narrative weight with Tessa Thompson’s Anna. For comparison, Stay Close (67% women / 72% aged 30+) and Peacock’s All Her Fault (65% women / 77% aged 35+) both center more heavily on female protagonists.

Why are viewers pressing play?
For the darkness hiding beneath small-town civility. His & Hers‘ top ratings driver is Dark Secrets (139), and the show delivers in spades as both Anna and Jack wade through a minefield of lies about their hometown, their failed marriage, and the string of murdered women who all knew them both. The series explores Work-Life Balance (129) with a dangerous twist (Anna chooses to report on murders tied to her own past, while Jack investigates crimes that point to his seeming culpability). Audiences are drawn to the show’s promise of Hidden Truth (122), watching each episode methodically peel back another layer of deception in what seemed like an idyllic Georgia town.

What’s keeping audiences hooked episode after episode?
The he-said, she-said structure. His & Hers employs dueling Voice-Over Narration (120) from both Anna and Jack, letting viewers experience the same investigation through two completely unreliable perspectives (each hiding secrets, each suspecting the other). The Small Town Life (118) setting of Dahlonega creates the claustrophobic pressure cooker essential to great thrillers, where everybody knows everybody’s business and old wounds fester for decades. The brutal Murder (117) in the premiere kicks off a chain of killings all connected to Anna’s high school past, while the Estranged Relationship (116) between the two leads adds delicious tension as they’re forced into proximity despite their bitter separation. Personal Revelations (114) about the victims (all women from Anna’s former mean-girl clique) drop like bombs, making it nearly impossible to stop watching as motives multiply and the body count climbs.

What gives His & Hers staying power beyond season one?
The procedural framework and shifting blame game. The show leans heavily into CSI (122)-style investigation, giving it the episodic structure networks love for multi-season runs. The Accused POV (112) keeps things fresh by constantly rotating which character seems guilty (Anna, Jack, and multiple others all look like killers at different points), a narrative trick that could sustain multiple storylines. The Lifestyle Change (110) both protagonists undergo (abandoning their carefully rebuilt lives to confront buried trauma) offers rich territory for future seasons exploring how they navigate their hometown’s shattered trust. Unlike Big Little Lies‘ laser focus on Female Friendship (155) or Stay Close‘s straightforward Serial Killer (160) hunt, His & Hers builds a revenge narrative with enough unanswered questions and damaged relationships to fuel seasons beyond the initial mystery’s resolution.

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Who’s been tuning in for this zany new comedy? 
The audience remains gender-balanced (51% men / 49% women) and skewed 30+ (57%), closely mirroring Man vs. Bee. This similarity is striking given the tonal shift from the original’s aggressive, adversarial slapstick to Man vs. Baby’s softer, holiday-inflected setup, suggesting that viewers are following the character and comic engine rather than the specific nature of the conflict.

What does this new sequel have in common with its predecessor?
Over-the-Top Humor. Both series serve up a farcical, exaggerated style of comedy full of the Awkward Misadventures of its child-in-an-adult’s-body (Arrested Development) protagonist. In both series, the hapless Trevor ends up housesitting for a very wealthy couple, and shenanigans immediately ensue (Awkward & Funny Moments) as he attempts to solve outlandish problems in his own ridiculous way (Amateur Hour). The humor is a top driver for both ratings and bingeability, pulling audiences in and keeping them engaged.

What’s setting Man vs. Baby apart? 
Warmth and good cheer. Man vs. Bee is a story of adversaries as Trevor goes to increasingly absurd lengths (Scheming, 140) to eliminate a pesky bee that has snuck into the mansion he’s occupying. The tone is sharper and more overtly slapstick as his attempts escalate wildly (Obsession, 115), but while the seemingly immortal bee manages to escape a pillow, tennis racket, plunger, hammer, flamethrower, and rocket, the priceless decor in the mansion is not so lucky (Committing a Crime, 160). In contrast, Man vs. Baby is a story of allies, as Trevor finds himself watching a seemingly abandoned infant over the Christmas holidays (Seasonal Setting, 160). This sequel takes a much softer, more heartwarming tone as Trevor bonds with the baby (Adopted Family, 160), and the comedy arises not out of destruction but rather Trevor’s bumbling attempts to play nursemaid and figure out where the young boy belongs (Feel Good Humor, 125).

What’s most appealing about Man vs. Baby in its native UK? 
The lighter comedy. Unlike American audiences, who are most drawn to the show’s more absurd, exaggerated elements (Over-the-Top Humor, 160 US; Amateur Hour, 160 US), British viewers are somewhat more invested in the gentler Feel Good Humor (160 UK), wryer Awkward Misadventures (154 UK), and blunders of Work-Life Balance (132 UK) as Trevor tries and fails to juggle housesitting, the baby, and obligations to his own family over Christmas. However, in spite of their lean-in to the softer tone, UK audiences are not interested in the actual warm fuzzies of the season, with the holiday atmosphere (Seasonal Setting, 59 UK) and sentiments of Adopted Family (55 UK) rating low on the list of drivers and falling into “disappointing” territory (again unlike the US, where both instead land in the “outstanding” range).

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