In a move that will horrify many purists, a journalist has mounted a passionate defence of deliberately seeking out spoilers before watching films and television series. Jason Okundaye, an assistant opinion editor at the Guardian, declares that pre-emptively learning plot details is not a crime against culture, but a legitimate way to enhance enjoyment.
The Spoiler Advocate's Methodology
Okundaye's approach is systematic. Before watching a film, he will often open Wikipedia to digest the entire plot synopsis. When a full series lands on a streaming platform, his first port of call is frequently the final episode, where he watches the concluding five minutes before starting properly from the beginning. He employed this tactic with the final season of Top Boy in the autumn of 2023, a revelation that drew bewildered and outraged responses online, even from the show's official Netflix account.
While some might label this behaviour impatient or philistine, Okundaye contends it relieves a burden. In an age of endless streaming content of variable quality, knowing the outcome upfront removes the anxiety of whether the narrative payoff will be worth the investment. "I'm not willing to put that effort into every bit of media I consume," he writes, highlighting the practical side of his strategy in a saturated market.
The Different Pleasures of Foreknowledge
Far from ruining the experience, Okundaye finds that spoilers offer a distinct form of engagement. Viewers become omniscient, spotting instances of foreshadowing and feeling a step ahead of the characters. He draws a parallel to ancient Greek theatre, where audiences often knew the tragic fates awaiting protagonists like Oedipus from the outset. The entertainment derived from watching the inevitable unfold with dramatic irony.
This is particularly true for older works where plots are public knowledge. He recently watched the 1999 teen film Cruel Intentions for the first time, already knowing the climax where Sarah Michelle Gellar's character, Kathryn Merteuil, is publicly exposed. This foreknowledge did not diminish the satisfaction of her downfall; instead, it allowed him to fully appreciate the buildup of her cruelty. "If you've repeatedly watched something and your enjoyment hasn't diminished, then surely it's about the writing and entertainment rather than the big reveals?" he posits.
Respecting Others and Theatrical Sanctity
Okundaye is careful to delineate a crucial boundary: his spoiler consumption is a personal practice, not one he imposes on others. He describes casually posting major twists on social media as "a bizarrely selfish practice." Furthermore, he makes exceptions for the cinema, where he respects the sanctity of the theatrical experience and refrains from googling plots on his phone.
He muses that this selective approach may reflect how streaming has altered consumption habits, making media feel more disposable and multitasking-friendly. Ultimately, his argument is for a more flexible, personal relationship with narrative, one where suspense is just one tool among many for deriving pleasure from art. As he signs off, he notes he's off to google whether Leonardo DiCaprio's character survives in Titanic—a punchline that perfectly encapsulates his philosophy.
