This article contains spoilers for “KAOS” (2024). 

For years, I have vocally held the stance that Netflix is past its prime as far as high-quality original content goes. This was not necessarily a foregone conclusion, as Netflix has largely led studios and platforms in Oscar nominations (and other accolades) over the last half decade. However, by other metrics, the streaming giant has demonstrated more interest in the amount of original content it produces than the quality of said content.

Netflix continues to pump out a nearly unfathomable number of new movies, television shows, and limited series every month. While a handful of stand-out programs have gained critical acclaim (see “The Crown” (2016) leading with 18 Emmy nominations but only 3 wins for its final season) over the last few years, most of the content they’ve released feels like filler. Netflix produces series after series that seem to be slight variations on a few models of show. 

Take, for instance, a thriller that follows an employee of an American government agency as they inadvertently become a key player in unraveling a dangerous conspiracy involving international politics and a devastating personal betrayal. Now, imagine the cast is stacked with B- and C-list actors that you’ve definitely maybe seen in something before. That’s “The Night Agent” (2023), right? Wait, maybe it’s actually “The Recruit” (2022)…or is it “The Diplomat” (2023)? See what I mean?

That’s not the only example. Whether it’s dramas about teens who have more baggage than an airport (see “Outer Banks” (2020), “Ginny and Georgia” (2021), and “On My Block” (2018)), or aggressively mid adaptations of beloved book series (“Bridgerton” (2020) or “A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder” (2024)), I feel like Netflix has simply run out of original stories to tell. While the platform is making more content than a single subscriber could possibly watch in a given month, the value of its extensive list of accolades dulls a bit. Instead, it seems like Netflix’s creators and executives are throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks.

Then, a few weeks ago, through the gloom of endless “Bridgeton” spin-off announcements and yet another season of “Emily in Paris” (2020)—a show I cannot escape even though everyone who has ever seen it seems to hate it—a glimmer of hope appeared. I stumbled upon “KAOS” (2024) one day while scrolling through Netflix’s endless catalog, trying to find anything remotely interesting to do besides my homework. 

Watching “KAOS”—pronounced like chaos—felt like a breath of fresh air after a year in space. “KAOS” retells the stories of Zeus, Hera, Dionysus, and other gods of Greek mythology, along with the tales of some mortal heroes—most significantly, those of Orpheus and Eurydice, King Minos and Ariadne, and Caeneus—set in a mythological but modern Greek society.

I had heard about the show on TikTok before its release, but I hadn’t given it a second thought, because I’m not usually drawn to myth adaptations. They’re a concept that I thought had been done to death. However, on that fateful Saturday afternoon, I found myself immersed in the mythological world of the series, pleasantly surprised by how many ways I found the series engaging.

First and foremost, the storytelling in “KAOS”—driven largely by showrunner Charlie Covell, who also created “The End of the F***ing World” (2017)—is brilliant. It uses common knowledge about Greco-Roman mythology to establish the world of the story quickly without relying on it to motivate the show’s plot. For instance, Zeus (Jeff Goldblum) is characterized by the narcissism and promiscuity that’s true of most depictions of him. 

The same goes for much of the cast—Hera (Janet McTeer) is proud and stern, Dionysus (Nabhaan Rizwan) is impulsive, and the Fates (Sam Buttery, Suzy Eddie Izzard, and Ché) are creepy as hell—but the central conflict that prompts most of the characters’ decision making is unique to “KAOS.” For example, I found it particularly clever that the series was narrated by Prometheus. Just as he defied the Olympians by sharing fire with humanity in the ancient myths, he directly defies Zeus by sharing this story with mortals (the audience) and, in doing so, helping the mortals in the story overcome the gods.

Another element of the show’s storytelling that I found impressive is how it managed to give each character of the show’s relatively large ensemble a fleshed-out story of their own (complete with relevant exposition and complex character arcs), while effectively tying all the storylines together by the end.  

At the beginning of the series, we are told that Zeus is deeply concerned about a prophecy he was given by the Fates: “A line appears, the order wanes, the family falls, and Kaos reigns.” As the plot progresses, the show gradually reveals that several characters received the same prophecy and that each one has settled on their own interpretation of the prediction—all of which are incorrect in some way. The show keeps its viewers grounded by tying the characters together with this common element while keeping them engaged in trying to figure out the riddle as the characters do.

The show’s aforementioned relationship to the classical myths really lent itself to this form of ensemble storytelling. Using a combination of better-known tales and stories that have been retold fewer times in popular culture, the show successfully molded elements of the original myths into its own central plot.

Orpheus and Eurydice’s stories were a near-perfect model of this. While the show maintained the tradition of Orpheus courageously following Eurydice to the Underworld to bring her back to life, their stories are separated—each has their own adventure between the time Eurydice dies and when they are reunited—and made more complicated. Rather than a devoted damsel in distress, Eurydice is a bored housewife before her passing, trapped in a loveless marriage with a seemingly committed (but oftentimes selfish) Orpheus, who relies on her more for inspiration for his music than for love. By the end, the characters have learned so much about themselves and each other on their personal journeys that they’re barely recognizable.

In my opinion, ensemble storytelling like this is a huge accomplishment for a season consisting of eight 50-minute episodes. I’ve seen other Netflix shows fail miserably at this feat, often disrupting the flow of a season to insert a storyline repeating the same series of events from earlier episodes, but from the perspective of an underrepresented character in a way that feels completely disconnected from the rest of the plot. This was especially infuriating in Season 2 of “Stranger Things” (2016), when Eleven randomly travels to Chicago to find some sister that we’ve never heard of before. Not cool, Duffer Brothers.

The other element of “KAOS” that stood out to me was its casting, which was diverse without feeling like the primary goal was diversity. Besides the fact that the cast represents a wide variety of racial and ethnic identities, the success of the casting really shines through with how each character’s identities were made a part of their stories. In Greek mythology, Caeneus (Misia Butler) was transformed from a woman into a man (and also given impenetrable skin as a bonus gift!) by Poseidon. Rather than ignoring that aspect of the myth or centralizing Caeneus’ story around trauma relating to his gender identity, “KAOS” intentionally depicts Caeneus’ trans identity as an important aspect of his backstory, while focusing on his Underworld adventure (and love connection with Eurydice) as his main character arc.

It bears repeating that for the reasons I mentioned—among countless others—I loved “KAOS” and I found it to be an exhilarating change of pace from the recycled storylines that I’d come to expect from Netflix. Alas, as quickly as my excitement grew, it was snuffed out by the announcement that “KAOS” was not being renewed by Netflix for another season. 

I’m not the kind of TV viewer who thinks that shows should be renewed just because I liked them. Limited series are wonderful when they effectively tell a contained story in just one season. But, as far as I was concerned, “KAOS” had a lot more story to tell, and Covell has proved that they have the writing chops to tell that story in a compelling way. I would have loved to see the characters—both divine and mortal—grapple with the consequences of the world they’d become accustomed to turning upside down. 

As disappointed as I was, it’s hard to say I’m completely surprised. I’ve been burned before. I’m also a rabid fan of David Fincher’s “Mindhunter” (2017), which was officially denied a third season in early 2023. The show won’t continue simply because Fincher was not willing to compromise the show’s quality for Netflix’s desire to shift some of its budget toward shows with higher viewership. 

I’m not judging you for enjoying the other shows I talked about. I’m not even saying that they’re necessarily bad. As a matter of fact I, too, wait with bated breath for “Ginny and Georgia” to finally return to Netflix next year. 

I’m just saying that I had a truly captivating experience watching a new release for the first time in months because it was something a little bit different. Even with stories that are thousands of years old, “KAOS” delivered compelling messages about power, family, and love in ways I wasn’t expecting. What I really want from Netflix—and all the platforms that make wonderful media for me to consume—is to see a little faith demonstrated in shows that are different. I want to watch more TV and movies that ask me to invest in the characters and engage in the plot rather than just the easily digestible arcs that I have seen again and again. 

For anyone reading who tells stories (or wants to tell stories) through any medium for a living, heed my humble request: Stop making the movies and series you think everyone wants to watch. Just say something.  

Sulan Bailey can be reached at sabailey@wesleyan.edu.