I går var det 10 år siden Netflix innledet sin egenproduksjon med premiere på «Lilyhammer». På Netflix minnes Ted Sarandos en uortodoks satsing som lyktes nettopp fordi den hadde en lokal forankring.

I går var det nøyaktig 10 år siden premieren på Lilyhammer på strømmetjenesten. Rushprint husker godt sitt møte med en relativt ukjent Ted Sarandos uken før premieren, da han forklarte hvorfor – av alle ting – en norsk komedie skulle bli inngangsporten til Netflix for egne produksjoner til et globalt publikum. Det lokale er det nye globale, erklærte han, og siden har serien blitt stående som et stykke moderne strømmehistorie.
I går publiserte Sarandos en tekst på Netflix der han mimrer over det nybrottet som Lilyhammer var en del av:
When you think about Netflix’s first original series, what do you think of? The White House? The Litchfield Correctional Institute… Nope, not those. Our actual first original series was Lilyhammer and today, February 6, marks the 10th anniversary of its historic Netflix premiere.
A seminal moment in Netflix history began in a recording studio by the North Sea. Bergen is where Norwegian creators Eilif Skodvin and Anne Bjørnstad approached Stevie Van Zandt about a show they wrote for him set in a small Norwegian town called Lillehammer. A few months later, having heard that Netflix was looking for original content, I got a call directly from Stevie, who wanted to send us the series
Sarandos siterer fra Steve Van Zandts nye bok, Unrequited Infatuations, der skuespilleren omtaler møtet med Sarandos som det beste han noensinne har hatt. Sarandos er i prinsippet enig, men har en litt annen versjon:
I remember that Stevie was a much better actor and musician than he was a salesman; he would humbly describe the show as “different, odd, quirky, sometimes it’s in English and sometimes it has subtitles…” almost like he was trying to talk me out of it. What he didn’t know was that we had already watched the episodes and were in love with the show. The meeting was great and Stevie loved every idea, except one. When I told him that we would not be showing the episodes one per week, we would deliver the entire season all at once. That stopped him in his tracks. “You labor and suffer and someone can watch a year of your work in one night? That sounds a little weird,” he said. “It’s not weird,” I told him. “It’s just like working on an album.” He laughed and agreed.
I går var det nøyaktig 10 år siden premieren på Lilyhammer på strømmetjenesten. Rushprint husker godt sitt møte med en relativt ukjent Ted Sarandos uken før premieren, da han forklarte hvorfor – av alle ting – en norsk komedie skulle bli inngangsporten til Netflix for egne produksjoner til et globalt publikum. Det lokale er det nye globale, erklærte han, og siden har serien blitt stående som et stykke moderne strømmehistorie.
I går publiserte Sarandos en tekst på Netflix der han mimrer over det nybrottet som Lilyhammer var en del av:
When you think about Netflix’s first original series, what do you think of? The White House? The Litchfield Correctional Institute… Nope, not those. Our actual first original series was Lilyhammer and today, February 6, marks the 10th anniversary of its historic Netflix premiere.
A seminal moment in Netflix history began in a recording studio by the North Sea. Bergen is where Norwegian creators Eilif Skodvin and Anne Bjørnstad approached Stevie Van Zandt about a show they wrote for him set in a small Norwegian town called Lillehammer. A few months later, having heard that Netflix was looking for original content, I got a call directly from Stevie, who wanted to send us the series
Sarandos siterer fra Steve Van Zandts nye bok, Unrequited Infatuations, der skuespilleren omtaler møtet med Sarandos som det beste han noensinne har hatt. Sarandos er i prinsippet enig, men har en litt annen versjon:
I remember that Stevie was a much better actor and musician than he was a salesman; he would humbly describe the show as “different, odd, quirky, sometimes it’s in English and sometimes it has subtitles…” almost like he was trying to talk me out of it. What he didn’t know was that we had already watched the episodes and were in love with the show. The meeting was great and Stevie loved every idea, except one. When I told him that we would not be showing the episodes one per week, we would deliver the entire season all at once. That stopped him in his tracks. “You labor and suffer and someone can watch a year of your work in one night? That sounds a little weird,” he said. “It’s not weird,” I told him. “It’s just like working on an album.” He laughed and agreed.