Mythologized as film's competition, television is more accurately the “other Hollywood.” With its volume of production, Vancouver is “Hollywood North.” Other Hollywoods produce other vampires, offering other perspec¬tives. Production migrates from California to Georgia, Louisiana, Ontario, Texas, and Europe. Off-siting production—and masquerading locations—is nothing new, nor is Hollywood television production. Classical Hollywood film studios partnered with television networks decades before industry deregu¬lation integrated them into media corporations. Big Three broadcasters—CBS, NBC, and ABC—began filming programming in 1949 and rented production facilities from film studios. Disney became the first studio to produce television in 1954. Conceived as a cable network for feature films, HBO re-energized scripted television. Its True Blood uses vampires to engage debates on the right to rights with a complexity not possible in feature filmmaking, underscoring how other Hollywoods offer us other perspectives.

Television engages national dialogues and changes thinking across gen¬erations. Benedict Anderson argued that citizenship is bound serially to states with each citizen provisionally standing for all others (1983: 184). He looked to newspapers as mechanisms that create imagined communities. Theoretically, each citizen receives the same news, whether living in the capital or provinces, at the same time, thus constructing a national sense of commu¬nity through simultaneity of knowledge and experience of events. More than film, television fulfills this serializing effect. With live broadcast, audiences received information simultaneously. Film industries invested in hierarchical and segregated models of run-zone-clearance; television industries, in national broadcast. With narrowcasting on cable and satellite, audiences have become fragmented and subnational. Film and television share fixed scheduling; streaming and downloading allow audiences to select content from a library at their convenience.

One conventional distinction is interruptions to content in television—the “flow,” according to Raymond Williams (1974). Advertising interrupts broadcasts at predictable intervals, affecting narrative patterns for writers and audiences. Television is conventionally screened at home, among friends and families, interrupted by unrelated conversations about daily events; film is screened among strangers, interrupted by only anonymous sounds of snacking and ringing mobiles. Television narratives are open, allowing for additional seasons. They are multiple and entwined rather than singular and arced. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was an early series to adopt seasonal narrative arcs (Mittell 2010: 230).