Script-Free TV, America's Dirty Little Reality

Some say it all started in 1952, when Ralph Edwards told his unsuspecting celebrity guest stars, “This is Your Life.” Other’s would insist it was the hilarious surprise antics of Alan Funt’s off-beat brainchild, Candid Camera.While it may be true that Americans can trace their reality roots all the way back to a time when radio wore the crown of mediaentertainment, and the producers of the show Truth or Consequences pushed the provocative envelope by persuading studio guests to participate in the unthinkably unedited (proposing marriage to a complete stranger, or confessing a non-existent, illegitimate child to a spouse.) But the grit and guts of modern reality TV must follow its true ancestral lines all the way across the Atlantic—to a young man from the Netherlands, who wondered what real people would do under the watchful eye of Big Brother. In February of this year, Forbes Magazine listed John De Mol, reality TV’s master mogul, as having a net worth over 2 billion. His formerly owned television production company, Endemol, brought Americans to the edge of a hard reality with shows like Fear Factor, and Big Brother U.S.; a New World offspring of De Mol’s original Holland Series.Aside from the fact that De Mol certainly knows the finer points of the reality business—he sold Endemol Productions to a Spanish telecom company for a cool 1.4 billion—what is it, exactly, that keeps reality show production companies raking in the big bucks faster than Omarosa can lose a friend? Well first off, the fees paid to the on-screen contributors of such shows as Survivor and The Bachelor, are considerably lower than those shelled out for professional actors. In fact, a contract for an “actor” on a reality series lists the on-screen contributor’s title as “participant” or “contestant”, thus releasing the production company of stipend regulations like those outlined by an actor’s guild or union. Now, with all the business talk out of the way, let’s take a real look at America’s obsession with reality. You Know You Want To Watch—But Why? It’s a bit like the secret recipe in one of our favorite soft drinks: we start of with an innocent drink through our sipee cups because we like it and it genuinely taste good. But in no time at all we’re making false promises to cut back—then the headaches come on and the mood swings turn a refreshing beverage into something straight out of Dr. Jeckyl’s laboratory. Plain and simply put: we need it! It has altered our ability to reason, to evaluate properly the distinction between what we know is true and what we want to be true. Reality TV has infused its ugly head of addiction under our skin like an illusory parasite. We’re hooked. And we love it. But if your pulling down the living room blinds before The Apprentice and wondering where to sign up for a twelve-step program to help you overcome your love of all things Paula, give yourself a break. The reality obsessed can take heart in knowing that the two most popular stereotypes concerning reality TV viewers were addressed as part of a study published in Psychology Today. 1.Americans watch these shows to gossip, to use as “conversation starters” because we’ve lowered our standards of discussion topics. 2. Reality TV viewers have a lower intelligence quota than people who choose not to see who will get “voted off the island.” But the survey results showed that neither of these stereotypes are true. So what proved to be the driving force in the minds of the reality junkies? Something Americans have been famous for generations: good old fashioned competition. The personality test conducted on the participants of the study showed that each had a high level of competitiveness, and all came out with pretty significant numbers in the aggressive nature category. This makes sense when you think of shows like The Apprentice and Fear Factor, where the winning stakes are set to unbelievably high standards; a promising career as one of Mr. Trump’s employees; a fifty thousand dollar cash prize. Even the lighter of the heavy rivalry shows like The Bachelor and Joe Millionaire put contestants at odds with each other on a more personal level, as they are judged on delicate factors of their aptitude, such as looks and personality. The study went on to report that the desire for status was far more excessive with the reality crowd than the regular TV viewers. The reality show fans were more likely to answer yes to the questions, “Is prestige important to you,” and “are you impressed with designer clothes?” Reality TV permits the viewer to imagine an achievement of status through the winning contestant’s fifteen minutes of fame. After all, the participants on shows like The Bachelor are (or at least start off to be) ordinary people; the girl’s you shared your lipstick with in the high school bathroom; the checker you know by name at the corner grocery store. So the idea here can pretty much be concluded by the Cinderella Syndrome: if it can happen to her, maybe it can happen to me. And while Joe Millionaire certainly turned out to be less of a Prince Charming than even our girl in rags would accept, and the Bachelorette’s Trista Rhen had a change of heart about her reality Romeo, script-free TV is still a glimpse of optimism in the eye of the contender that, could’ve been someone. The “Other” Reality Albert Einstein said, “Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.” Persistent indeed! With script-free TV marking higher ratings than many popular sitcoms, it seems as if the demand for reality shows will carry its reign long into the Neilson future and beyond. But for those of us who require a little astuteness with our remote clicker, there is hope on the horizon of intelligent reality viewing. This spring the Arts and Entertainment Network (A&E) launched its first season of a distinctive type of reality viewing, one that makes its watcher—get this—actually think! The show is called Intervention, and if you haven’t seen it, you’re missing out. The one-hour unscripted reality show tells the story of two people and the sick, sad truth of their addictions. Every few weeks, two very real, very troubled people and their vice of choice are filmed during the height of their addictions. From the gambling obsessed genius boy to the entrepreneur turned crack addict, this show pulls out all the stops on what it means to be chronically hooked, out of control, and out of options. Staring into the face of no return and a camera lens that catches the participants in the most shameful of situations, Intervention shows the addicts at their all time lows—shooting up smack; stealing pain pills from their family members; prostituting themselves for a fix—a no hold barred approach to real reality television. So moving, and so scary, is the authenticity of this show, that two high schools in Northern Texas have included some of the show’s “high” lights as part of their Drug Free instructional courses. At the end of the hour the addicts face something a little more intense than being presented with a rose. Having no idea that they are actually participating in a reality show that involves the ultimatum of intervention, the participants are taken into a room where their friends and family are waiting with a trained intervention counselor and offered the chance to change now or be ostracized from the people who are trying to help them. The catch: maybe a little less action stimulating than having to eat live cockroaches, but certainly more crucial to real human issues, the addicts must agree (or disagree) to get on a plane, usually within a few hours after the intervention has ended, fly to another state, and check themselves into a rehab facility. With no time to pack—or get their last fix—the immediate pressure of a having to deal with such a challenge thrusts the participants into a kind of reality that is both exciting and heartbreaking for the television viewer to witness. On Intervention there are no fellow “islanders” to make the stay or go decision for the participants. There are no cash prizes or confrontations with catty girls in evening gowns. This show exposes the most frightening type of reality one can face: taking the challenge into yourself. Get Your Reality On: We Promise Not to Tell You don’t have to admit it, because we already know you do it. Yes, YOU: The English professor who makes himself look busy correcting those essays that look very much like betting pool sheets for the next episode of Survivor; The CEO who pretends to be watching her internet ticker tape when she’s really checking out the inside scoop of American Idol; The Physician who keeps his highlighted copy of TV Guide tucked neatly inside his New England Journal of Medicine. It’s okay.You’re among friends in the world of reality watching. You’ve even got a published psychoanalysis report to assure you that you’re in the “norm."  And as the song goes, “People love it when you lose, they love dirty laundry.” So as long as it keeps getting dished, Americans will keep watching—no blame, no shame. Just imagine how much of the world’s problems could be solved if we could cut to a commercial break then vote somebody right out of the white house and “send them packing.” Hmmm …hey De Mol, are you listening?