Deen and her partners have purchased, for an undisclosed sum, all of Deen's 14 seasons worth of television shows once seen on the Food Network. This includes a season's worth that were cancelled before airing after her racially inflammatory misstatements were made public.
This initiative is interesting because given the financially attractive history of rebroadcasting old content - and given Deen's ostensibly die-hard fan base, figuratively if not literally - the network must have either determined that it was willling to sacrifice those profits in order to avoid further controversy ( losing potential viewership and advertising) or that her audience was shrinking anyway as the network tries to woo a younger demographic so didnt believe the loss would be significant.
Which raises the question of why Deen's backers believe that younger demographic who increasingly do the the majority of their watching on mobile devices or computers and who are reported to be pursuing a healthier, weight conscious lifestyle, would want to pay to watch shows whose entire premise is based on blatant disregard for dietary prudence.
The larger issue is whether just any old content can find a home among the famously diffuse web audience sufficient to support its commercial goals. The guessing here is that like so many relatively new markets, this one will eventually shake out in ways that determine what works and what doesn't. Not everyone will find they can make a living - but based on recent experience, it is certain that virtually everyone will try. JL
Felix Gillette reports in Business Week:
As Deen seeks a second act online, will her TV fans follow from the couch to their mobile devices—and pay for it?
I’ve seen the future of Paula Deen. It is mobile, deep-fried, and ad-free.
This week Deen capped off a summerlong comeback tour by appearing on the Today show to discuss the scandal over racist slurs that last year nearly destroyed her food and media empire and to explain what she’s doing next.
The following morning, on Wednesday, Sept. 24, Deen threw open the doors to her new digital-only subscription media venture, the Paula Deen Network, which is charging $9.99 for a monthly subscription, or $95.88 for a full year. As Deen seeks a second act online, will her TV fans follow from the couch to their mobile devices—and pay for it? To find out, I signed up for a 14-day trial pass,downloaded the mobile app, and took a spin.
Therein, I wandered through a crisply designed landscape with loads of fatty foods, a conspicuous absence of nervous advertisers, and a bottomless buffet of Paula Deen. The new site is teeming with recipes andinstructional videos for whipping up the kinds of flamboyant Southern delicacies, such as “Biscuit and Blue Cheese BreadPudding ,” “Deep-fried Savory Chicken Pie,” and “Cheesecake Surprise Pops,” that Deen has popularized over the years at her restaurants and on her cooking shows.
Occasionally I did stumble upon a vegetable. Turning to Deen forhealthy food is like turning to the National Football League for moral nourishment—misguided, at best. I avoided the green things.
Deen, on the other hand, is inescapable. The site is a mix of new material shot primarily inside a newly constructed studio at one of her homes in Savannah, Ga., and extensive archives of her “vintage” work. There is a supporting cast of sorts, consisting chiefly of her adult sons Jamie and Bobby, her longtime producer Gordon Elliott, her husband Michael, and her creative director Brandon Branch. There are also occasional guest appearances by her fans, the mostly middle-age Southerners, which the site must convert by the drove into paying customers to thrive. But by and large, the entourage and the amateurs play subordinate roles. It’s Deen who dominates.
She narrates recipes. She anchors the stove. She does lifestyle segments, strolling through the streets of Savannah, visiting historic sites, and working out with a squad of local teenage cheerleaders. And she stars in a handful of wacky gastronomical “game shows,” including “What Did Paula Deen Just Put in My Mouth?” Therein, Deen ladles mystery foods onto the trusting tongues of blindfolded fans, who try to guess what weird combo they’re eating. Sample answer: cheesecake withketchup .
Throughout it all, Deen shows off the familiar persona she spent decades crafting on air at the Food Network—Southern, maternal, sassy, and just a little bit crass. Everywhere you look on the new site, Deen is front and center, tossing out catchphrases, frying meat, and cackling wildly. No character overhaul here.
Deen’s ubiquity is exactly you’d expect from an eponymous network designed around the personality of a celebrity chef. But relying so heavily on a 67-year-old performer who has struggled with serious health ailments in the past does make you wonder about the venture’s future.
The site, which feels richly designed overall and well fed, is backed by Najafi Companies, a deep-pocketed private equity group in Arizona. According to the Wall Street Journal, the company has invested roughly $75 million to $100 million in Deen’s comeback venture. That’s a big war chest that should give Deen a fighting chance to conquer the new, unsettled medium ofdigital TV networks, where margins tend to be thin and production budgets slimmer.
She’ll need it, because the demographics of that world are against her: Digital video networks tend to cater to (and be consumed by) the young and the cable-less. It’s a world inhabited by toddlers, teens, and preteens who have minimal muscle memory attaching them to cable or satellite TV menus. Nothing about Deen or her fans, on the other hand, screams young or nimble. Reaching the level of success achieved by similar digital subscription video networks, such as Glenn Beck’s The Blaze or the WWE Network, will likely require Deen to recruit a whole new generation to the post-television landscape.
Back in July, I flew down to Pigeon Forge, Tenn., to watch Deen perform a cooking show, live on stage, at a family resort in the shadows of the Smoky Mountains. That night, the crowd of fans was filled with grey-haired diehards and stooped old-timers. They looked a lot more like the early-bird dinner crowd than a bunch of early adopters.
On stage, Deen bemoaned her own nagging ailments, which she blamed on her advancing age. She was hobbling around a bit and joked that she’d been bitten by her dog. At one point, she also apologized for her eyes, explaining that she was suffering from an inflamed cornea. “Look at my eyes,” Deen said to the audience. “They’re red as a baboon’s butt.”
Throughout the night, Deen encouraged her fans to get online and to sign up for her e-mail newsletter. At one point, she invited two women on stage to compete in a game of trivia, testing their knowledge of Deen’s particular tastes and predilections. At the conclusion of the contest, she awarded a prize to the winner: a free subscription, come fall, to the Paula Deen Network. “Do you have an iPad?” Deen asked the winner. The woman, who looked to be in her 70s, shook her head no.
“Why didn’t we give an iPad away?” Deen asked, rhetorically. She shrugged her shoulders and assured the woman on stage that finding the Paula Deen Network online wouldn’t be a problem. “Darling,” said Deen, “it’s going to be easy.”
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