"Those who can, do. Those who can’t, bitch about it on the Internet." -Simon, from The Book of Simon
Some bios list credentials, such as: Education BFA in Illustration, Massachusetts College of Art Occupation Former Production Slave, Ballantine Books Comics Credits Columnist, Writer, Artist, Editor Etc…
And some bios tell a story, such as: I can remember sitting in front of my television one morning, watching the old Batman show, when Julie Newmar appeared in that skintight black leather outfit as Catwoman. It was my first boy/girl thing. >A year later I was in kindergarten telling Katherine Burke that I loved her. It’s pretty much been a string of stupid mistakes ever since…
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But most bios just sit to the right of the column and are never looked at. So ignore this space and just read the damn column already…
Andy Warhol gave us too much credit. Or maybe he just didn’t foresee the obese expansion of Cable television. According to him, in the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes. But thanks to the cult of celebrity, the glut of people actually expecting to cash in on their allotted fifteen minutes has created such a scarcity of time that now it’s been reduced to about fifteen seconds. Yes, folks, this is the phenomenon of ‘Reality Television’, where even your boring-ass self can be a star…at least until Simon Cowell calls you dreadful.
‘Reality Television’ (which I will always refer to in sarcastic quotes) is divided into several different kinds. The most popular, and the ones that always seem the most overhyped, are Dating Shows, People In Houses, and A Star Is Born. Within each group we see the standouts and those that strive to be something more than what they are. But, in the end, the vast majority fall into these three categories. And, if you want to go even further, they can all be summed up as one thing…Game Shows.
You And Me Baby Ain’t Nothin’ But Mammals A couple weeks ago I went to see Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, which you should all go see because it’s a great movie that will never in a million years win any awards. For those of you who don’t know, the movie is the supposed autobiography of game show wunderkind Chuck Barris. Ignoring the whole CIA assassin thing (which I tend to believe is true), it was a good glimpse inside the world of game shows. And it all started with one of the classic games, and the progenitor of half the shows on television today, The Dating Game.
Over the years there have been several revivals of the idea of matching people up for a date. From Love Connection to Studs, it was all pretty much the same. Hook two people up, send them on a date, and then have them tell what happened afterward. But now, through the wonders of modern technology, we are able to follow these people and see all the contrived stuff the producers come up with that they think will make great television.
First out of the gate was Blind Date. I think Change of Heart might have preceded them by a few months, but CoH didn’t fair too well because it was the same boring recap show and, by the time they switched formats to tail the daters, BD had already established the gimmick. Of course, in keeping with the entertainment industry mindset, if it works once it will work again. With a little tweaking of course. After Blind Date we got Shipmates, The 5th Wheel, Elimidate, Ex-treme Dating, and locally we have To Live and Date in New York. The latest addition to the ranks is Star Dates, wherein washed up celebrities go out with random pathetic starfuckers. There are so many people dating on television nowadays that our children are going to grow up wondering how to relate to someone without a camera crew around.
The swell folks at Fox tapped right into the pulse of America and realized that all women really want is cash, and lots of it. So they said screw the dating, call a spade a spade, and let the golddiggers duke it out for a chance to marry a millionaire. It’s amazing that a show that got so much scorn a couple years ago, when modified slightly becomes the thing that all the talk show hosts can’t shut up about. Supposedly everyone hated Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?, but The Bachelor did monster ratings, The Bachelorette continued the audience grab, and now everyone is in love with Joe Millionaire.
I think the best thing about the latest show is that this so called ‘average Joe’ has so much not-so-average junk in his closet. I’ve heard everything from underwear model to indy wrestler to gay porn pictorials to male escort. And I’m one of the people who believes he really does have the cash and that that will be the shocking twist, instead of watching how quickly the winning chick ditches him once she realizes there’s no payday. I mean, come on, no average construction worker is that pretty.
Lord of the Flies Here’s my idea for what a show called The Real World should be: Take seven strangers and drop them in Times Square. Let them stay at the St. James hotel (the hellhole that Tom Hanks stayed at in Big) for a week and give them each two grand. They then have a week to find an apartment and employment. They can group up or pair off however they want, but the two grand and a week’s accommodations are all the producers give them. By day three that’s when you’ll start to see some really good human drama.
I watched one episode of Survivor, I think the second season opener. Maybe I’m not adventurous or something, I just can’t understand why anyone would endure going through all the shit they set up for those people and the Road Rules, Amazing Race, and The Mole casts. Oh wait, I forgot about the television cameras filming you the whole time. Yeah, cuz when I’m eight days without a shower, stank, sunburnt and broken out, face down in yak feces looking for some coin to exempt me from elimination off the show I really want that moment preserved for all time.
The latest craze of the ‘put people in a house’ scenario is celebrities. The second season of The Mole has a bunch of barely-anybodies in Hawaii. I predicted months ago that The Anna Nicole Smith Show would be the next big thing with gay men. But then I watched an episode and realized that seeing a perpetually stoned, obese former prostitute (and let’s face it, that’s what she was) stumble around Hollywood acting like she’s entitled to a life of fame and luxury because her tits are huge is as boring as waiting for shit to cool. And for some reason they’re doing a second season.
Speaking of second seasons, the problem with The Osbournes is that the first season was a whimsical look into the home life of the Prince of Darkness. Sure, the ulterior motive was to introduce Ozzy to a new generation of fans. But you never felt like they were shoving product down your throat. This season the show has become predominantly about ‘Kelly Osbourne: Rockstar!’ Right from the opening credits we see her with a mic in her hand. And most episodes focus on her touring, recording, or doing publicity. It’s crass marketing at its finest and I think America can smell it. Ratings are half this season what they were last, although that still makes it one of the highest rated shows on MTV. Still, my prediction from last week stands. The show won’t go more than another season.
And a word about The Surreal Life. So let me get this straight, Vince Neil thinks he’s too cool for a group, Hammer loves to dance, Emmanuel Lewis has a creepy laugh, Baywatch chicks look good in swimsuits, Gabrielle Carteris likes to be the moral center of a show, Corey Feldman is fucked up from being a child star, and just because you were already on one ‘reality’ show doesn’t mean you have any ability to entertain? These are all things I already knew. Which is probably why this show is so dull. Not to mention that the producers try way to hard to get stuff going between the cast. It’s like the producers knew they had a stinker on their hands from day one.
I’m A Bright Shining Star Now we come to the worst denizens of ‘Reality Television’. America at the end of the twentieth and beginning of the twenty-first century not only likes its entertainment mass-produced and cookie cutter, it likes to watch the manufacturing process as it happens. Watching these shows where they take people out of their high school production of Godspell and turn them into candy-coated pop acts reminds me of when I went to Plymouth Plantation and was transfixed by the blacksmith working in his shop. He’d take a lump of plain old iron, heat it up in his oven, and then bang the hell out of it until it was turned into something useful, like a nail. The only difference is that I don’t really see any use for O-Town, Kelly Clarkson, or Justin Guarini.
I watched a couple episodes of the new American Idol. They were doing the open calls and there was a lot of garbage that walked through the door. I guess having been the prick in art critiques who wouldn’t pussy-foot around with my comments when someone’s work sucked I can identify with Simon Cowell. But now that the fun of watching him shatter people’s dreams is over, I can’t say I really want to sit there and witness as layer upon layer of lacquer and polish is applied to the people who get through each round until they come out sounding just like every other Alicia Keyes or Brian McKnight clone out there.
Also Rans What makes something a ‘Reality Show’ is a blurry line at best. Would you consider the myriad of redecorating shows to be ‘reality’? What about the rebirth of the court show? Or shows like Cops, Amazing Police Chases or When Animals Attack? These are all aspects of ‘reality’ on one or more levels. None of them is nearly as popular as something like Joe Millionaire, but seeing a white Southern dude in a mullet pulled out of his trailer for smacking his baby’s mother around with her crack pipe is closer to ‘reality’ than three supermodels chewing on rancid squirrel vagina for a cash prize on Fear Factor.
A while back I was watching some local interview show and Steve Guttenberg of Police Academy fame was on, decrying the negative impact of ‘reality’ shows on our culture. At first I dismissed him just like I do any celebrity who decides to hop on the soapbox. Of course he’s not going to like ‘reality’ shows. The reason the networks love them so much is not just because they get monster ratings, but because they are so cheap to produce. ‘Reality’ shows are the pizza and chinese food of television programming. They require minimal sets, low production values, and you don’t have to worry about David Schwimmer demanding ten million dollars an episode. Steve Guttenberg, and probably every other semi-working actor, is going to hate ‘reality’ shows because having these shows around takes jobs away from him and his kind. With my disdain for actors I found it hard to shed a tear that Markie Post or Mark Harmon can’t get a job because the WB has opted to do Who Wants to Screw a Goat? instead of another shitty sitcom. But then I thought about who else gets work from those shitty sitcoms; writers, directors. I’d give my left nut to direct an episode of According to Jim. Even though I’m not being paid to write now I would hope that someday I will and that on that day I will have some options. My Cable system has over two hundred channels that needs programming. You’d think that would mean a lot of jobs for writers. But with all these damn ‘reality’ shows around I begin to worry if my chance to be a writer is being swept away so that co-eds can felch an ox in order to marry a rich jackass.
From The Monkey House a/k/a Simon That’ll do pig
The Random: BBC-America is quickly becoming one of my favorite channels. I saw an episode of The Office last night. It reminded me of everything that is wrong with the American sitcom, because everything that is wrong was absent from The Office. Of course, for every show like that I find on BBC-America, it seems to be followed by Manchild or Father Ted. So I guess there is no television utopia.
