Reality TV is Real Boring

By Jeffrey R. DeRego

This shit ain’t real.

I remember the epiphany. It was Christmas, 1993, and I was home between semesters. It had been a snowy winter thus far, and two or three feet already blanketed the greater New Bedford area. My eyes were glassy and swollen from staring at the television for what felt like seven million hours.

The first season of MTV’s The Real World had only recently ended, and being a student overseas, I hadn’t been afforded the opportunity to watch seven total strangers confined to a multi-million dollar apartment as their lives were recorded and broadcast to the salivating masses.

My chance came sometime the day before when MTV announced that the entire series would be run in one continuous marathon. I made popcorn, stocked up on soda, and settled onto the couch. It dawned on me sometime after the episode where one of the kids goes on a three-state shooting spree because the gay one and her boyfriend had an affair, though she was really attracted to the emergency room doctor who was also a midget, and suffering from Tourette Syndrome, that The Real World was nothing more than a real soap opera.

But, that was okay because the half-hour segments were compelling. I learned later that some of the events the characters dealt with were pre-planned by the show’s producers. I felt cheated. But not for very long because I realized that real-life is pretty goddamn boring. If the producers had chosen to stage one of these
shows in my house, and record my life, they wouldn’t have much footage. I mean, really… do I constantly engage in heated philosophical discussions about homosexuality, or environmental issues? No, when I am home alone I write, or watch television. When friends are visiting we usually watch movies or discuss favorite episodes of The Simpsons. So, I can understand why producers set things up, like strangers badgering the cast for dates, or the producers calling the cops when the cast threw a big, loud party.

Of course, reality based television means nothing more than unscripted television. I can only assume that the producers had seen too many episodes of Full House, or Walker Texas Ranger and decided they could make something just as contrived without paying a sit-com hack. Television production is expensive, so I guess cutting the creative part of program development out is a logical savings. But what do I know?

The Real World was followed by what must be granddaddy of silly reality-based television, Road Rules. It’s a show I like to call “You want me to what?” where the cast is given an RV and limited finances. The cast must earn their keep while traveling from one inane job to another.

Basically it’s a show about temps.

Today, the competing “reality” programs are Who Wants to be a Millionaire (A quiz show with questions so easy they make the Bridge of Death scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail look like the SATs), and Survivor which is a one half Gilligan’s Island, one half Battle of the Network Stars.

I guess I can understand the logic behind people wanting to compete on Millionaire. After all, it’s not everyday that someone offers you a million bucks to name the first US President, or the capitol city of Mexico. But, the survivor thing is beyond my sphere of understanding. First of all, why would anyone want to spend umpteen number of weeks scrounging for food with a group of whiny twenty-somethings?

“Where’s the McDonalds, dude?”

“Maybe it’s behind this rock, man?”

“Dude, I’ve never seen a Big Mac with fur and a tail!”

Then, to add just a little pressure to the show, if your team doesn’t perform whatever silly task the producers have arranged, your team gets to vote one of you off the island. Meanwhile, the continuous soap opera of post-teen angst hangs throughout the show like tropical mist.

I suggest tightening the link between Survivor and The Real World, and set the group of them up in a Dorchester housing project. How about parachuting them into Baghdad dressed like the Harlem Globetrotters? CNN could cover the show as a news item. Think of the production savings!

How about putting Regis Philbin on the island with the other Survivor cast members? They could play “Who Wants to Eat a Rat,” or “Who Wants to use a Palm Frond as Toilet Paper.” Maybe we could put them all on the Mir space station for a few months (I am sure the Russians could use such a humorous diversion) without food or water, you know, just like real Cosmonauts.

Hell, I might even watch that.