Two years ago, Reesa Teesa from Atlanta, Georgia took TikTok by storm with her 52-part story time, “Who TF Did I Marry?!?,” uncovering her rollercoaster relationship with her ex-husband, whom she called Legion. All 52 parts, totaling up to 8 hours of watch time, have more than 5M views, with the most-watched part reaching 43.6M views. 

At its core, Reesa Teesa’s story is relatable: a woman overlooking a man’s (many) red flags. But what made this series of TikTok videos so viral is her brilliant storytelling. Through a modest setup, just her in front of the front-facing phone camera in a room or a car, Reesa Teesa told her story in “10-minute cliffhangers.” Each part reveals another suspicious behavior or circumstance, from lying about his position at a condiment company to forging mortgage documents. People in the comments are comparing her story time to Lifetime movies.

Overall, this keen interest in a person’s scandal-filled story is nothing new; gossip and scandal can capture our attention more than heavier topics. What truly fueled this particular fire was BookTok’s obsession with tropes and our collective, simmering hunger for melodrama finally boiling over. Not even a year later, vertical dramas flooded TikTok.

The vertical drama isn’t a Hollywood invention, but an export of China’s duanju (Mandarin for “short drama”) phenomenon: the boom of made-for-smartphone short drama during the lockdown era. Each series lasts about 50-60 minutes, split into 1-2 minute episodes. Similar to Reesa Teesa’s series, each part hinges on cliffhangers and high-stakes revelations.

Jen Cooper, a vertical drama consultant, told the Guardian that one reason vertical dramas grow so quickly is that, despite the crazy tropes, they are not far from the romance books post-BookTok. They cater to an audience that can’t find those tropes and romance stories elsewhere. Which I’d argue they absolutely can.

A lot of us grew up with Gossip Girl (2007-2012), One Tree Hill (2003-2012), and the like. We spent years consuming 22 weekly episodes of high-stakes, glossy, guilty-pleasure melodramas. Like many BookTok books and vertical dramas, melodramas revolve around tropes: flawed yet still-desired main characters; crazy plot twists and cliffhangers; and mid-tier production value. 

Gossip Girl’s whole story is anchored in secret-identity and class-warfare tropes: the popular girl dating the outcast, secret relationships, and the unidentified Gossip Girl. Now, we have a myriad of vertical dramas around the outcast and the popular kid. Fight Dirty tells the story of a queen bee who fake-dates the bad-boy outcast to protect herself from her ex. Spoiler alert: the outcast turns out to be an underground fighter with nowhere to live, so naturally she has to secretly let him stay in her room. Plot twist! 

If you prefer the somewhat-forbidden romance tropes, we have One Tree Hill and The Vampire Diaries (2009-2017): half-brothers who dated the same girl. Or The O.C. (2003-2007), with the ex’s brother storyline. If you’re not willing to sit through seasons of relationship progression, look no further than Loving My Brother’s Best Friend. The series blew up on X after a post praising an advertised clip went viral, turning lead actor Nick Skonberg into an overnight sensation.

Now the real question is: Why aren’t traditional teen melodramas making a comeback while vertical dramas explode? 

The answer lies at the intersection of production dynamics and shifting audience habits. Traditional melodramas cost millions and take at least a year to produce one season, while a 50-part vertical series can be shot in a week with a two-camera crew. The scale is staggering: Zhou Yuan, founder and CEO of Beijing-based Content Republic, said the company aims to produce 400 vertical dramas a year, with up to 60 series shooting simultaneously in 2025.

The goal isn’t to deliver groundbreaking, envelope-pushing cinematic art, but to satisfy people’s craving for high drama and instant gratification, and their dwindling attention spans. The vertical drama is already designed to be low-barrier: the series is produced in 16:9 format for the device people naturally reach out to. Each episode is only 1-2 minutes, giving the illusion of low commitment. Each one-minute increment delivers a constant stream of heightened drama and buzz, ending on a cliffhanger and cutting filler scenes and slow-burn exposition. It’s an engineered dopamine loop, designed to be as effortless as it is addicting.

Maybe that’s why people in Reesa Teesa’s comment section would rather watch her spill the baffling details of her whirlwind marriage in fifty 10-minute increments rather than watch one two-hour Lifetime movie. Or why traditional teen melodramas are not making the comeback they deserve. One thing is certain: as short vertical dramas take up more space in people’s daily viewing habits, this long-term media evolution is worth watching.