TV Review: The Making of Reality Television
Every TV producer knows that ratings mean money, and the key to ratings is drama. Strong drama comes from conflict. Generating conflict keeps viewers from changing channels. Then, if the producers have done their jobs well, empathy kicks in. There is a tendency in human nature for viewers to identify with combatants in a struggle. Although there is also a human tendency to root for the underdog, there is a bit of blood lust in us, and everybody wants to know who will come out on top.
Reality television, which combines the style of a documentary with the suspense of a game show, offers first rate power struggles that viewers can watch from the comfort and safety of their homes. If you think , however, that these programs develop “naturally” in front of the camera, think again. The series’ premise, its “stars,” and its contestants are chosen for their ability generate plenty of conflict, squeezing every bit of drama from every moment on the screen. Moreover, when the producers must contrive to add interest and make their formula work, they do so.
Harken to the speeches that constantly state and repeat the show’s requirements. Note the questions that are put to contestants, demanding that they defend themselves and their actions. See the challenges that are issued, encouraging arguments and even betrayal. Consider the gimmicks. A series segment often ends with a ritual or ceremony in which viewers learn who will leave the show. A catch phrase often is used, the most famous, of course, being Donald Trump’s, “You’re fired.” (Perhaps the lamest being fashion designer Tommy Hilfiger’s decree, “You’re out of style.”) Objects may be presented to failing contestants, or they are compelled to take some kind of action, such as opening an envelope or extinguishing a torch. Above all, timing is crucial. Participants often drag out the ritual so viewers will have the final answer, “Immediately following this commercial break.” (In television, that’s called a hook, and it is designed to make viewers keep watching, no matter how annoyed they become.)
Indeed, almost any subject on earth can be whipped into a reality TV format. As a struggling screenwriter with some awards and options, I received an invitation to apply for a series that would revolve around unproduced screenwriters. For a certain fee, selected contestants would live in New York for three months and try to market their material. But I heard the project wasn’t picked up. I wasn’t surprised. Hollywood, rather than New York, is the place to sell screenplays. Anyhow, selling scripts is such a lengthy, tedious process, the audience would be old and gray before we reached a season finale. On the other hand, the success of shows such as American Idol, Survivor, and The Great Race cannot be denied. Some probable subjects have been tried as TV summer replacements, saving us from a normally dull viewing period.
So You Think You Can Dance, which premiered last summer, recently returned to Fox with great fervor. Will ABC’s Dancing With the Stars also rate another summer session? Apparently not. (To the dismay and disappointment of many. ) But the Fox series is presented by the same people who created American Idol. Like American Idol, it has the appeal of shows such as Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scouts which ran from 1948 until 1958, or Ted Mack’s Original Amateur Hour which began on radio in 1952 and concluded its television run in 1970.
Because these shows are talent searches and there is a live audience, producers are less likely to manipulate the material and, therefore, the viewers. Sometimes the shows are a bit hokey, and the hooks are still present, of course. We are made to listen to the same questions, asked over and over. We still wait for the answer, thinking, “Get on with it, already.” But, in general, there are fewer gimmicks to exploit the contestants and the audience.
Moreover, such shows convey a genuine sense of seeking success. So You Think You Can Dance has judges who are dedicated to dance and really want to find promising talent. Sitting through open “cattle call” auditions, the judges see some truly dreadful performances, and they are always candid. (There is no kindness in telling contestants they can dance when in fact, they cannot.) But the judges usually make an effort to speak positively and to let people down gently. Sadly, the rejected contestants sometimes are not as courteous. But that reaction, too, is genuine and, one supposes, simply to be expected.
The same consideration cannot be said, however, for all reality programs. For example, given the quiet whimsy of Julia Child and the quirky banter of Graham Kerr, I am not sure why cooking has become a gladiatorial event. But since the advent of The Iron Chef, we have seen chefs and aspiring chefs square off in the search for a new culinary superstar.
The loudest and the worst of these clashes is Hell’s Kitchen. The series premiered as a summer replacement last year and, unfortunately, it will be returning this summer. The premise is that the top contestant will get his or her own restaurant. The idea sounded like fun, and last summer, I watched about half of the programs. I will not watch any this year.
The series host, Gordon Ramsay, may be Michelin-renowned, but he is advertized as the most brutal chef on television. And rightfully so. Aside from his cruel and foul mouth, Ramsey does not seem to have a shred of self-control or dignity. He even resorts to physical attacks, throwing things at people or shoving and striking them. If he actually treated employees this way in the United States, he would be in violation of labor laws, if not subject to criminal prosecution.
We can return, I suppose, to the requirement that producers must guarantee conflict. Struggle, angst, and humiliation can indeed capture an audience. Therefore, much of Hell’s Kitchen probably is staged, and Ramsey isn’t as vicious as he seems. If that is the case, he must be getting very well paid to demean himself as he does on national television. Under any circumstances, I am stunned that people can watch the abuse Ramsey dishes out and consider it entertainment. To me, this program embodies everything that television should not be, conveying the message that crudity, rage, and violence somehow are acceptable solutions to problems. I refuse to watch the show, and, if I had children under 18, I would not allow them to watch it.
By contrast, last summer PBS offered the series Cooking Under Fire, a competition from celebrity chefs Ming Tsai and Todd English plus author Michael Ruhlman (The Making of a Chef). In this series, the prize was a position as a chef in one of Todd English’s New York restaurants. Like the judges from So You Think You Can Dance, these men seemed genuinely interested in finding a successful candidate, not hellbent on insulting the ones that they had. They had to cull their field of six contestants from “cattle call” auditions, and they saw some people who truly were in the wrong league. Yet in the audition phase and throughout the series, the judges remained objective and kept their dignity as well as their humanity. They were firm, and their criticism was candid, but they were always civil and never once raised their voices. In each episode, they made sincere efforts to direct and to help their contestants, not to humiliate them. Their instructions always seemed clear and reasonable. Frequently, when contestants were chastised, it was because they had not followed the judges’ instructions. Even then, contestants were given the opportunity to defend their omissions. If they did so successfully, they earned points instead of being insulted.
This contrast between two series with a similar premise represents the entire realm of reality television. There are good reality TV programs, and there are bad ones. As always, it’s a matter of viewer taste and judgment. You need to have a clear picture of what you consider to be acceptable as entertainment for yourself and your family.
