Over the last couple of years, there has been a steady influx of reality TV Show centred round anything from finding a mate, cooking a half decent meal, entertaining a bunch of obnoxious strangers and living in a house full of egotists and alpha males. Coupled with these shows are the now ubiquitous talent contests which are as fixed as WWF wrestling.
The most noticeable of these has been ITV’s
‘Britain’s Got Talent’ which has not only made an overnight sensation of a dowdy Scot, but has celebrated mediocrity at every turn.
The show is more formulaic than a Jerry Bruckheimer film, and not nearly as trashtastic. It seems, as with most reality TV formats, they have taken the anti-hero to the extreme: in the form of the ‘bad tempered’ judge who takes delight in verbally shooting down the hapless, talent less contestants. Whether it be Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen, who is fighting the good fight in maintaining high food standards (when all he is interested in doing is maintaining his bank balance), or Simon Cowell, the supposed ‘doyenne’ of good taste.
Masked as ‘constructive’ criticism, they use their acerbic wit to engender cheap laughs. They talk about their frustrations in maintaining standards in an apparently anarchic world of bad cooking, bad performances and peoples’ delusions in their own ability to carry a tune.
BGT is a show that encompasses perfectly this cliché ridden format. There is an obnoxious judge, famous for his ‘ability’ to get a scoop, an ‘actress’ who can barely move her face, and of course, the arrogant record producer who seems to be in anything but a bath.
The two men are pitted against each other, and will do all they can to outwit the other. The woman is the ‘rose’ between the two thorns and is always on hand to offer dizzy platitudes to a teary contestant who has had her dreams shattered on national TV. She is invariably as plastic and as fake as the set she presides over.
The best part, and decidedly more dramatic, is when they have to make their ‘decision’ regarding who really HAS GOT TALENT. The music will start, the camera will zoom, the lights dim and the judges look as pained as Meryl Streep did in Sophie’s Choice. They deliberate and agonise over their seemingly IMPOSSIBLE task, despite knowing full well who will win having been undoubtedly briefed by the producer before the series even went to air!
They love the limelight more than the contestants and will do all they can to ensure that the spotlight is trained on them and their perfecltly puckered brows.
Katie Cowell
A few weeks ago I was convinced to venture into the torrential rain and head to a music venue in Notting Hill. I was there to see 'We have Band' and they were definitely worth the wet weather, slippery streets and trek home.
