Trump’s “Apprentice” business partner, reality TV’s eminent creative mind Mark Burnett, will have much more trouble untangling himself from the wreckage. While his biggest franchises—“Survivor” and “The Apprentice”–effectively revolutionized television and dominated ratings in their early seasons, Burnett’s recent endeavors have not yielded the same returns.
This summer, Burnett debuted two new series, “On the Lot,” on Fox, and “Pirate Master,” on CBS. “On the Lot,” an “Apprentice”-style competition with aspiring filmmakers, bowed to an audience of just 8.5 million viewers, which means it lost around 70 percent of the 30 million viewers who were watching the “American Idol” finale before it. Meanwhile, “Pirate Master,” a watered-down “Survivor” clone, in which greedy gamers stow away at sea for a crack at a million-dollar prize, fared just as badly. Only 7 million viewers tested the waters.
But Burnett’s ratings woes aren’t the issue as much as what appears to be a dearth of creative ideas. “On the Lot” started out trying to mimic “The Apprentice,” then abruptly changed course and started aping “American Idol,” complete with separate performance-and-results show. Somewhere in all the confusion, the show’s host changed abruptly and one of its judges, director Brett Ratner, vanished without any explanation. Meanwhile, the “Pirate Master” debut was a confusing muddle. For at least the first 45 minutes, it was impossible to know who was doing what and why. Characters were introduced hastily so they could be rushed through a baffling challenge, then someone whose name you could remember was “cut adrift.” (That means “voted off the island,” but the boat version.)
The sad part of Burnett’s string of failures is that it suggests that it nails shut the coffin of reality television’s golden era. There has always been lots of talk about the negative effect of reality TV and how it has contributed to our fame-obsessed, look-at-me culture. But there hasn’t been nearly enough discussion about the fact that at its best, some of the freshest, most exciting television of the past decade has been reality-based. Who among us can forget where we were the first time we saw Richard Hatch flopping around nude during the first season of “Survivor”? How many office friendships were irreparably damaged by Jordin vs. Blake disagreements during “American Idol”?
But the problem is that “sequelitis,” that pernicious Hollywood instinct to replicate the DNA of anything remotely successful, has planted deep roots in reality television. (We’ve known for a while that anytime we make a movie successful, that good deed will not go unpunished. For evidence of this, look no further than “Shrek 3” and the third “Pirates of the Caribbean” film.) But must the same soul-crushing reanimation be afflicted on reality TV as well?
There are still bright spots in reality television, but three times as many pale imitations. For every “Apprentice,” there’s an “On the Lot.” For every “American Idol,” a “So You Think You Can Dance?” For every “Project Runway,” there’s a “Top Chef,” “Top Design” and that hair stylist one. (I’m tempted to say it was called “Clip Show”… or maybe “Hair Apparent”… I don’t remember.) It’s one thing for such recycling to happen in scripted programming, where we’ve come to expect the same old thing. It’s especially disheartening to see it seep into what was once a bastion of legitimately original ideas.
Reality television has advantages and disadvantages over scripted television. The main advantage is that, just like real life, things can get incredibly exciting in a hurry, as anyone knows who watched the last two seasons of “Survivor” go from dull to nail-biting in the blink of an eye. And because the participants are real people, even if they are incredibly narcissistic people, there’s a level of emotional investment that only the upper echelon of scripted television can achieve. But the primary disadvantage is that real-life logistics can quash some of the best ideas. In 2001, LivePlanet, the production company cofounded by Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, revealed plans for “The Runner,” a show in which one contestant would try to make it from coast to coast completing a set of tasks. If the runner completed the quest, he’d receive a million-dollar prize, but all the while, viewers at home could track his progress, and if they could apprehend the runner they would win a cash prize. Later, the producers noted that at-home viewers would be encouraged not to use physical force in apprehending the runner. Yeah right. Needless to say, the concept never came to fruition. I’m too polite to say what I would do for a million dollars, but suffice it to say cold-cocking some guy and delivering him to Damon and Affleck falls well within my comfort zone.
Even though “The Runner” never went into production, that such an exciting idea could even emerge is proof that reality shows can still be groundbreaking appointment television, if its most creative minds like Burnett would stop self-plagiarizing and if networks would stop encouraging him to do so. Judging from the ratings of “On the Lot” and “Pirate Master,” audiences certainly aren’t encouraging these warmed-over ideas. Someone has to rush in to save reality TV, and it clearly won’t be Donald Trump. His “major new TV venture”? A show called “Lady or a Tramp,” an adaptation of a British show in which party girls are sent to charm school. Sigh … reality bites.
