The TikTok-ification of TV Is Coming

Now that President Donald Trump has guaranteed TikTok at least 75 more days to find an American owner, “Strictly Business” podcast host Andrew Wallenstein is breathing a sigh of relief. He kicks off the latest episode confessing to his new obsession with the controversial app and how he sees it changing the future of media. Read excerpts from the episode below.

As one of the reigning media gurus coming to you each week on “Strictly Business,” I could not do another interview for this podcast without talking about a profound transformation I’ve recently undergone with my own personal media habits.

There’s just no other way to say it: TikTok has broken my middle-aged brain.

Somehow the controversial app has become my primary media destination every day instead of television, and when I say television, I mean both pay TV and subscription streaming. TV shows and movies have taken a backseat to TikTok’s never-ending algorithmically targeted feed of short-form videos.

And, though I am pathetically late to the party and just too darn old to be captivated by TikTok, I must share what this experience has been like because it’s left me with some observations not just about this powerful platform, but about the future of media in general.

I totally get if your reaction to what little I’ve said so far is, “OK, boomer. Thanks, but no thanks—I’m not interested in insights from the last, oldest TikTok adopter on Earth. Why don’t you come back next week with some hot takes on what MySpace or Friendster was like too?”

I should point out first, I’m not a boomer; I’m from Generation X. Old, but not that old.

I should also clarify it’s not like I suddenly discovered TikTok in 2025 after crawling out from under the rock I was living under. I’ve had the app on my phone for several years for the occasion when someone mentioned something I wanted to see on TikTok.

The truth is, the programming experience of TikTok has been so thoroughly appropriated by rival copycat products like Instagram Reels and YouTube Shorts that when I talk about TikTok, I’m not really talking about TikTok per se.

That said, TikTok’s algorithmic magic may be more powerful than the others platform and, at the very least, deserves credit for pioneering the format that’s become so addictive.

Addiction: It’s a word I must admit I shouldn’t be using loosely when it comes to TikTok or any social apps. There are serious concerns about the power they have, particularly with their youngest users. Not to mention the serious concerns about the potential espionage risk the TikTok app presents. I’d be remiss in not referencing these dangers, and yet, I must admit, none of that stopped me from falling head over heels into TikTok.

And here’s what may be the most tragic part of all: I see that the hours I spend on TikTok now each day clearly come at the expense of the time I used to spend watching TV. I just don’t want to watch half-hour or hour-long shows at the volume I used to.

Here’s the thing: It’s hard not to give TikTok credit for stealing the wind from TV’s sails because when I reflect on TikTok’s bounty, I see the seeds of so much of what I had previously gotten from TV, super-served by TikTok.

I’ll give you a counterintuitive example: I’ve really gotten to enjoy keeping up with what the biggest memes are on TikTok. I think part of what has made memes so compelling to me is that in our increasingly fragmented media culture, where so many people are experiencing different content — a far cry from decades ago, when TV was the great unifying force that could bring together tens of millions of people on any given night — these memes and the way people play on them are as close as we’ve come to unifying our culture in its own interactive way. They make me feel connected to a larger culture.

Let me try to capture what I love about TikTok using a TV metaphor of sorts: imagine if “Saturday Night Live” were a medium unto itself. But instead of about 20 performers Lorne Michaels plucked from obscurity, there are about a thousand more cast members just cranking out comedic vignettes on their own.

There’s a lot of different types of comedy to choose from. I enjoy the genre of couples humor, where real-life husbands and wives, who fancy themselves comedy duos, dissect relationship pitfalls endlessly. I think my favorite is a well-known TikTok pairing of Alex and Jon, who have millions of followers.

Honestly, you watch these two enough and you will understand why comparisons to TV classics like “I Love Lucy” and “The Honeymooners” aren’t so far-fetched. Whether the comedy is 30 minutes or — in the case of Alex and Jon, sometimes 30 seconds — the connection is pretty clear.

Alex and Jon feel to me like the kind of couples-centric sitcoms I used to watch all the time but just don’t see anymore. Forget about couples sitcoms; I don’t find myself watching sitcoms at all really. And have you seen a comedy in a movie theater lately?

Come to think of it, I think you can draw an even broader conclusion that the vast array of comedy you can overdose on TikTok comes at the expense of the rest of media. I just don’t think it’s a coincidence that comedy could not seem more dead in film and TV right now while on TikTok — it’s alive and well.

Call me a zealot for my newfound religion, but this format TikTok and its copycats are employing, this isn’t just a format for a particular kind of social app. I’ve come to the conclusion that, for better or for worse, this is where it’s all going — whether you’re watching on your phone and, this is where you might want to question my sanity, larger screens like your living room TV.

Maybe that’s the most surprising realization I’ve had as a TikTok user, that this format it pioneered that seems so inextricably tied to the mobile device seems to me not mobile specific at all. I fully anticipate the TikTok format — right down to all its wonderful aesthetic particularities — will seep so thoroughly into TV in the coming years that I won’t even be surprised if living room walls start to get adorned by screens that will hang vertically instead of horizontal.

Truth be told, I cannot understand why TikTok hasn’t make a stronger bid for TV domination. Team up with a TV manufacturer to make a line of TikTok TVs complete with a scroll pad on the remote for thumb-swiping. Or turn the phone into a remote.

I feel like I’m really just scratching the surface of how TikTok’s clip-scroll format will become the future. And I haven’t even addressed the e-commerce element, which may end up the most game changing contribution the app makes given the early success of TikTok Shop.

Breathless as I’m being, I am mindful of the fact that I’m just 6 months into my TikTok experience. Perhaps there’s a honeymoon period and, in time, I will tire of the clip-scroll format. Or something better that’s not even on the market yet will come along and revolutionize the video delivery space all over again. I’m looking at you, AI.

What was I doing on this app at my age? Research firm Datareportal estimates that 4.3% of TikTok users are men between the ages of 45-54, so no, I don’t have a lot of company.

Was this my version of a midlife crisis? Most middle-aged men buy a convertible or get an earring. I use TikTok. I’m not sure what’s more pathetic.

But I choose to look at it differently. I rationalize that I’m really more like an early adopter among the olds, the first wave of a broader demographic shift that will transform the demographic makeup of clip-scrolling apps, and maybe drive more product evolution that makes these platforms even more welcoming to Generation X — and even the Boomers.

For now though, I’m just one old man who happened to become TikTok’s newest fan.

“Strictly Business” is Variety’s weekly podcast featuring conversations with industry leaders about the business of media and entertainment. A new episode debuts each Wednesday and can be downloaded on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher and SoundCloud.