The time has come for a brief commentary on the phenomenon of “reality TV,” which is a real misnomer since very few of these shows have anything to do with reality. Let me admit up front, I am not writing from the standpoint of someone who avoids these shows. Like junk food, I am drawn to them, and watch most if not all of what comes through my screen.
As a student of pop culture and broadcasting, I think money is the driving factor here. Think about what it would cost to produce a series like “Desperate Housewives” or “House.” There are elaborate sets, costumes, actors, equipment. There is no Wisteria Lane, you know. It’s a back lot at Universal Studios in Hollywood. If you look closely, Beaver Cleaver’s house is on that street. If his show was on today, Beaver could be having an affair with Eva Longoria, and Wally and Eddie would “give him the business.”
On the other hand, reality TV requires none of this. Just a small camera crew to invade the lives of some freak show family somewhere, and some canned music. No need for writers, or sets, or special effects. Even better than the low production costs is that fact that we, the American public, can’t seem to get enough of these shows. That means the high ratings that advertisers covet. Ah, capitalism. Such a sweet smell.
So, what are we watching? “Celebrity Apprentice,” “American Idol,” “The Voice?” All reality shows of a certain genre. But there’s also “Cake Boss,” “Kate Plus Eight,” and “Sister Wives.” And, as much as we’d like to, who can forget “The Real Housewives of [insert city here].”
Remember when TLC was “The Learning Channel,” with the goal of expanding the classroom into homes? Not anymore. It’s just TLC. Sort of like KFC doesn’t like to get bogged down in details about the chicken.
And these titles barely scratch the surface. I haven’t even mentioned similar shows on MTV, A&E, truTV and others. They all have their niche audiences and try to serve them well. And the real people on these shows are now considered “celebrities,” so they write books, go on tours and learn to dance the Argentine Tango.
As a child of the 60s, I can remember classic shows like “Andy Griffith,” “Petticoat Junction,” “Mary Tyler Moore” and “Love Boat.” These were shows starring actual stars, and I still talk about them to this day. Sometimes I worry how my children will explain the “celebrities” of this day to my grandchildren. “Why, that’s Snooki, darling. She was a…um…let’s see what else is on. How about Barney the Dinosaur in 3D.”
The other fear with reality TV is the attempt to one-up the last popular show. Eight kids are not enough, how about 19 and counting? One wife is not enough, how about four? Cupcakes are not enough, how about hoarders? Sixteen and pregnant is not enough, how about someone who didn’t even realize she was pregnant until that stomach ache weighed in at 8-pounds, 7-ounces?
I’m not convinced that we somehow become better people by watching other families with problems worse than our own. Isn’t that the appeal of “Jerry Springer,” “Dr. Phil” and “Maury?”
Not saying you shouldn’t watch these shows. It’s your right as an American, and that’s why there are 200 channels and even an off switch. And books over on that shelf…somewhere.
Just be careful what you choose before your family starts reflecting the many problems and issues shown on TV. Now, that’s getting real.
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