Here’s a question: Am I the only organism on the planet that doesn’t “get” reality TV? Now, I know what you’re probably thinking: “Geez, what a loser!” Well, now that we’ve firmly established that, how about you let me explain my position?
Back in the days when cell phones were larger than the average child’s head and Michael Jackson was still black, programs called documentaries occasionally found their way onto America’s TVs. The subjects of such shows ranged from lizards to space probes and the intellectual stimulation they provided received nearly universal appreciation from parents groups, educators and even the occasional politician.
However, shortly before the turn of the century, someone got the bright idea to combine the most appealing attributes of a documentary with “normal people” that the average viewer can directly relate to, with a pinch of game show or soap opera sprinkled on top for good measure.
The initial byproducts of the aforementioned recipe were, for the most part, quite novel and, dare I say it, tasteful. The dynasty that is “Survivor” was, for the first few seasons anyway, a solid concept that boasted good execution and minimal amounts of blatantly scripted fluff. The same could be said for the initial iterations of “The Bachelor” or, my personal favorite, “Monster Garage.” Okay, so I get a kick out of “Monster Garage,” if only for the over the top shenanigans of Jesse James. How can you not admire a guy who dreamt up a zombified Santa Claus parade float that shoots candy out of its arms?
Sadly, once the honeymoon was over, the gnat-like attention span of American TV viewers began rearing its ugly head upon the all-important ratings charts of the nation’s broadcasting powerhouses. The networks, fervently reluctant to abandon a winning formula and eager to one up each other, told their creative gurus to find new angles and spins on the reality TV frenzy. Not surprisingly, these high-pressure think tanks have managed to turn out the likes of “Wife Swap,” “The Simple Life,” “My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss” and, the cream of the crass, “The Swan.” Even the latest bumper crop of runaway hits such as “The Apprentice” and “American Idol” seem shallow and contrived, as if pulled out of the nether regions of some suave college dropout’s anatomy.
Worse still, this cultural tumor is spreading to nearly every available hertz on the airwaves. Case in point: Speed Channel. Once the home of such gems as “Legends of Motorsport” and “Autoweek,” TV’s gearhead paradise is under siege from “We’re-derivative-but-still-hip” upstarts such as “Unique Whips” and “Build or Bust.” From the promo spots I’ve seen, they appear to be little more than grown men shouting and cussing at each other while occasionally working on hopelessly bling-saturated vehicles. Gag me with a dipstick.
Even PBS has thrown its hat into the ring with “Frontier House” and “Victorian House.” Did those shows have educational value? Absolutely. Was cashing in on the biggest fad under the sun the way most viewers wanted their contributions spent? Probably not.
Sorry folks, but if reality TV is the future of entertainment, then I guess I’ll have to learn to live in the boredom-laden abyss of TV’s primitive past. Now that would make for great TV.
Tom Anderson, a sophomore journalism major, is arts editor of the Campus Times. He can be reached by e-mail at tanderson1@ulv.edu.
