Reality, really?
From getting married
to raising kids to testing the fidelity of your partner, reality
shows on TV have grabbed eyeballs. The popularity of these shows
has not only redefined television viewing but also raised
crucial issues of social responsibility, propriety, freedom of
expression and basic ethics, writes Derek
Bose
Want
to be rich and famous? Want to regress into past-life
mode? Want to become a pop star? Want to embarrass your parents,
your family? Want to reveal your deep, dark, dirty secrets? Want
to show off? Want to be humiliated? Want to get married? Want to
catch your boyfriend with his pants down...
Left to right: Stills from Pati, Patni aur Woh, Bigg Boss and Khatron Ke Khiladi. People are fascinated by other people. The viewers know it is not true, that it is all playacting, and yet they want to watch the show |
After all, how bad
can television get?
This is the
question the nation is asking as a series of controversial
"reality shows" has invaded our TV channels, both in
Hindi and regional languages. The popularity of these programmes
has not only redefined television viewing across India, they are
raising crucial issues of social responsibility, propriety,
freedom of expression and basic ethics. At the core of all this
is the tendency of one-upmanship at grabbing eyeballs at all
costs in the face of mounting competition in the television
industry.
There is also the
question of what qualifies for a "reality show". While
it is generally understood that it makes for any non-fictional
programme using documentary techniques of filming, the common
suspicion is that all such shows currently on air are
pre-scripted, rigged and contrived with the participants being
coached. The abuse of reality is clearly meant to sensationalise
content and notch up the emotional quotient of the programmes.
UTV Bindass’s Emotional Atyachaar works on the insecurities underlying relationships |
"What we
should be asking is not how close these reality shows are to
truth," argues Siddhartha Basu, former quizmaster and now
producer of some hugely successful reality shows, including the
recent Sach Ka Saamna. "We should ideally be asking
how to create 20 minutes of actuality without overcooking the
content. This applies to all non-fictional programmes on TV.
Even the news you see on some news channels is often reality
shows."
After all, how
else would you describe the tendency of channels to over-dramatise
so-called "breaking news" with high-pitched commentary
accompanied by repeat re-runs of clips and loud, melodramatic
music? A good example would be the coverage of the 26/11-terror
strike, when footage of two terrorists moving about in Mumbai’s
CST station was shown stop-start, stop-start ad nauseum,
with anchors out-shouting one another on different news
channels. Such attention-grabbing devices are also employed
during sting operations, be it cash changing hands under the
table, sex romps featuring celebrities or perhaps, an
off-the-cuff remark of some public figure.`A0 `A0
This is exactly
the kind of over-cooking of content that critics of reality
television are objecting to. Not only does it erode credibility
and compromise truth, there are issues of entrapment – the
only difference being that in reality shows, unlike news
coverage, there are willing participants. And since these
participants are all bound by a confidentiality contract, the
line between fact and fiction becomes all the more blurred.
"It
ultimately boils down to the level of acceptability of
content," opines Sanjay Reddy, vice-president of Sun TV
Network. "We all know people are fascinated by other
people, and if we can make them feel for someone or something,
they will root for it. This is what has worked for all game
shows and talent hunts, even as there would always be a lurking
doubt that the competition was rigged. Even the humiliation
rounds and irreverent asides that add spice to a programme are
lapped up. The viewer knows it is not true, that it is all
playacting, and yet they want to watch the show. Somehow, we
love to watch what we hate happening to us."
This probably
explains the popularity of shows like Bigg Boss, which
provided viewers the vicarious pleasure of watching the plight
of a bunch of nitwits confined in a house with no external
contact. Another show, UTV Bindass’s Emotional Atyachaar
worked on the insecurities underlying relationships by testing
the fidelity of partners. Sach Ka Saamna put participants
through the embarrassment of lie-detector tests before making
them own up to skeletons in their closet in full public view.
Then there have
been mock wedding shows, be it Rakhi Ka Swayamvar or Rahul
Dulhaniya Le Jayega, which no self-respecting person would
ever like to be part of. And yet, as Basu points out, "The
last four episodes of the Rahul `85 show took the TV
industry by surprise as its popularity shot up from the 40th
position and reached the top four". This only goes to prove
that even if there is an emotional disconnect between viewers
and participants, a programme can still be assured of success.
Explains Ashvini
Yardi, programming head of Colors: "The conventional belief
that viewers need to connect with characters on screen has been
negated by reality shows. In the early days of soap, when saas-bahu
serials were popular, every woman wanted to be a Tulsi. Women
spoke like Tulsi, dressed like Tulsi, and behaved like Tulsi.
The identification was complete, as Tulsi became the ideal for
hundreds of thousands of middle-class Indian women. That is not
so today. The same viewers have become so much more mature and
discerning over time. You cannot fool them now with make-believe
and candyfloss. You’ve got to get real."
It is to Yardi’s
credit that the myth about soaps being the staple of
entertainment programmes has been demolished. In fact, this was
her brief when Colours entered India in 2008. In her bid to
dislodge soaps from the prime-time slot, she adopted a
two-pronged strategy — differentiated content and destructive
scheduling. She launched Khatron Ke Khiladi and Bigg
Boss — both reality shows. For a new TV channel, this was
a huge gamble — more so because the schedules of these shows
overlapped with the timings of the most popular soaps on air.
Miraculously, the gamble paid off.
"Three things
worked for us," narrates Yardi. "One, fatigue had set
in among the viewers as there were several me-too soaps churning
out the same predictable content. Two, with reality television,
we could get a new community of viewers as men also started
watching our shows. And three, our shows became the subject of
drawing-room discussions, which was earlier not the case with saas-bahu
serials. So, it was more due to word of mouth, rather than
investing heavily in publicity, that Colors could become a
household name in a very short time."
Colors’ success
with reality shows is, however, viewed by many as a flash in the
pan – an exception, rather than the rule. "The truth is
that you cannot take the audience along with reality
shows," says Nitin Vaidya, business head of Zee TV.
"It is not a good idea. Reality shows are bleeding TV
channels dry. They are all high on costs and low on returns. The
shows have a lifespan of merely two to four seasons, with zero
repeat value. After a time, everybody will have to get back to daal-chawal
entertainment, the soaps. The only positive factor of reality
shows is that they attract attention during the initial stages.
But once the element of novelty wears off, curiosity dies and so
does public interest."
Much as critics
like Vaidya would love to see the end of reality shows, media
pundits have already detected a new genre of TV programmes
emerging in the entertainment space. They even have a name for
this hybrid born out of a marriage of fiction and fact –
emotainment. At its best, it would be somewhat like the "mockumentaries"
(mock documentaries) in films and at its worst, tabloid
journalism in mainstream press.
In effect, you can
look forward to some infinitely hotter, spicier, more
sensational and emotionally nerve-wracking melodramas invading
your small screen any time soon. You haven’t seen anything —REALLY.
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