With the commercial TV networks throwing wave after wave of horrifically unfunny sketch comedy shows at us, and the travesty that is Channel 7's second rate knockoff of the Kumar's at Number 42 (Hosted by Effie - There's a gag that was funny for five minutes in 1992) this recently rediscovered Retro Rant from early 2001 is a topical as ever.
Television is full of thieves, not just the shonky Demtel salesman and billionare preachers who fill the overnight lineups on commercial TV, but also the executives whose creative talents stretch only as far as pinching all the good ideas from each other.
We, the viewers, are the willing accomplices to the process. Backyard Blitz was a bit of fun (allegedly), so when Ground Force appeared at a different time slot on a different network teh audience ate them both up and asked for more; the few thousand viewers who count towards the ratings anyway. Survivor was a worldwide success, suddenly every man and his dog were being shipped off to a deserted island. Shipwrecked, Treasure Island etc, etc.
Popstars, nicked from the Kiwi's, rated it's ass off. Arise "Search for a Supermodel". Weeks of anorexics bitching that the judges wouldn't cop sexual favours. Fortunately it's ratings, and blessed demise of major sponsor Scape.com, ensured that the model won't be back. It only it had happened to Popstars we would have been spared the horrors of Scandal'us.
There is, though, one 'reality' program that ensures life for cocaine snorting TV executives with ponytails will never be the same again. Big Brother is the ultimate in television intrusion.
Locking twelve people up in a house with nowhere to hide is the greatest programming genius of them all. Sure, we're one of the last major TV producing nations to jump on the bandwagon but the wait was more than worth it. The show has raised the reality bar in Europe, and now it's our turn to feel the power.
Then, if my hastily compiled notes were anything to go by I talked about how much I was looking forward to gratuitous female nudity seven nights a week, and my calling for the network to put somebody on their payroll into the house merely to cause trouble.
Who could have forecast that three-quarters of the people picked would be so bland as to make Simon Crean look interesting? Who might have guessed that they'd throw away such exciting innovations as fake housemates and having them all nominate in front of each other. Do these people not understand that fights = ratings? It might have rated well, but imagine how many more people would have watched it if the prospect of a good dust-up was on the cards every night? Me for one.
Search for a Supermodel did return, then it went away again. Hopefully permanently.
Moreover, who would ever have guessed that in Scott Cain Popstars III would (rather unsuccesfully) attempt to make a superstar out of somebody with even less musical talent than Bardot or Scandal'us. And they were all checkout chicks. Amazing.
So, let this retro rant be proof that I once considered reality television to be an exciting new avenue of television production. What a hideous mistake.
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