Having
worked in the hospitality business recently meant working many evening hours
often not getting home until 11:30 p.m. My dear wife almost always waits up for
me, no matter what time her schedule demands she rise in the morning. I would
often arrive home to find our TV tuned to one of the reality shows we have all
been captivated by at one time or anther. My wife and I tend to stay away from
the competition shows; The Voice, Idol and any dancing stage shows don’t stand
a chance in our living room. Rather I’ll watch Discovery Channel or HGTV and
any program on BRAVO or E! is game for my wife.
First let’s
remember where this all started. Season 1 of Survivor. No, that’s not right,
MTV had that show before that. “7 people picked to live in a house and have
their lives taped.” Yes, I clearly remember the words “good riddance” being
whispered around the halls of Central Middle Schools from girls with tears in
their eyes. The phrase referring to Puck’s, the abrasive, shoot-from the hip,
90’s rocker type (think Sid Viscous), farewell to Pedro, a homosexual man who
had succumbed to the AIDS virus near the end of the show. I had not watched the
episodes first-run, so I had no idea that “I can’t believe Puck died” was
referring to someone my classmates had never met. This was my first dose of
someone else’s reality holding conversations in my life.
This is not
a historical column so I will not research the timeline but I will credit COPS,
as I believe it aired before the Real World. I have heard the the Wheel of
Fortune argument but I believe game shows are a totally different genre. I do believe
that sports are TV’s original reality shows, but again, different genre.
Back to
late night, arriving home, wife and dog snuggled in blankets on the couch. The
Real Housewives of _____ is on; I do not know and I do not care where from,
none of them are invited to rent space in my life. There are shows I do not
care to watch and then there is the fighting, yelling and backstabbing of grown
women acting like the most petulant of children. This show can take “you didn’t
attend my charity event” and make it an episode, then make it post-episode talk
show and a reunion show. Again, say what you will about Kim Kardashian, she’s
stupid, talentless, vain and spoiled, I agree with all of it. Her show does not
involve hours and hours of women yelling at each other, so in my married
existence of sharing TV-time, Kim Kardashian is tolerable.
My last
observation is about a show I have grown to like. Duck Dynasty is
about The Robertson family, whom has made a fortune producing duck calls. For those that
do not know how to hunt duck: hunters will hide in a “blind” (a grown-man’s
fort, in the woods), cover themselves in paint and cameo and impersonate the
sound that ducks make in hopes that real ducks will want to meet the imaginary
ducks and land near the blind. Once the real ducks are close enough the people dressed up like trees and trying to sound like ducks will shoot them with guns. This family has made
millions selling the fake duck noise devise, or call. What is very strange
about this show is how un-reality it is. We’ve all known for years that reality
shows have writers, that’s not a surprise. This show has camera angles and
lighting equal to studio shows. There is no shaky camera work as the film crew
tries to keep up with the action. No self-correcting as our subjects stumble
over words, similar to what is heard in everyday speech. The production on this
show is like none I have ever seen and I do not think we can call this reality
TV.
In one
episode the day is so hot the brothers decide to build a Redneck Waterpark. How
impromptu was it to have a backhoe delivered to watering hole prior to your
arrival? What about this guy called Mountain Man? There is not a soul out there
that can convince me he is from Louisiana. This guys was raised outside of
Jersey, moved to Hollywood when he was twenty-one, bounced between commercials
and bartending for twenty years before landing his first full-time gig on Duck
Dynasty. He only got the job because the beard was already in place and the
show's casting director thought that showed real commitment. Lastly, my real
proof that Duck Dynasty is as contrived as Chris Angel’s “magic” is in the
children. They simply cannot act. The adults on the show do a pretty good job
of staying in character, but the little girls are always smiling when they
should be upset. The, “grandpa what are you doing” and screaming is not said
with the genuine emotion of seven year old whose play-house is being
chain-sawed by a sixty year old man. It is said by a little girl trying not to
laugh, most likely on the sixth or seventh take of that scene.
So where is
reality TV going? Do the producers think that we believe they simply showed up
in the swamps of Louisiana and began rolling? Or do they realize that we just
don’t care. As long as Jase and Willie are at odds and settle their score with
an expensive display of machismo. As long as Grandpa Phil and Uncle Si make
questionable adult decisions so we can later forgive them as unassuming old
southern men. And as long as the women, who do not yell or scream at each other
over petty matters, get as little screen time as possible, we will land near
the blind of Duck Dynasty ready to make friends with the Robertsons.
