Now that everyone is talking about ABC’s “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” and a succession of game show clones are either coming out or in high-speed development it’s inevitable that the self-appointed cultural pundits out there (including those at this very newspaper) reflect on what the phenomenon really means. You know, the bigger meaning for society at large.
In this regard, we’ve mostly heard the argument about how game shows are a return to network television’s roots the days when mom, dad and the kids would sit in front of the set absolutely mesmerized by whatever offerings were being cooked up that night. Demographic surveys were unnecessary and unheard of in those days. You had viewers of all ages, incomes and political affiliations just there for the taking.
But these days, the retro-TV argument doesn’t hold much weight, evidenced by the fact that network executives aren’t clamoring to refashion “Playhouse 90” or Milton Berle into their fall lineups. The Food Network brought back the old “French Chef” series from the late ’60s and early ’70s only to discover that while everyone adores Julia Child as a gastronomic icon, the shows look tired, outdated and most of all, sloooow.
The game show phenomenon has, in fact, less to do with TV’s roots than with the sensibilities of today’s TV watcher. We want real people put into extraordinary but easily understandable situations, where the stakes are huge and the resolutions are quick. Michael Davis, the 33-year-old executive producer of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire,” describes the show as “a perfect three-act structure, except you don’t know what’s going to happen at the end, unlike most forms of entertainment.”
Sports long has had a lock on this kind of programming, which no doubt explains why the networks are so anxious to invest zillions of dollars on everything from pro football to Nascar stock racing. Who needs temperamental actors and picked-over pilots when a few cameras inside a packed stadium each weekend guarantees a sizeable audience share?
Individual fan loyalty has something to do with the ratings numbers, but so does the drama that slowly unfolds amid sweat, blood and screaming onlookers. Somebody will win, somebody will lose and the best part is that it will all be over in two or three hours.
The game shows fine-tune this formula even further. These are indeed regular Joes (as opposed to the superstar athletes who we cheer but can’t relate to). On “Millionaire,” which unlike the other shows does not pick and choose its contestants on the basis of gender or ethnicity, that means a lot of white guys many of them balding, chunky and nervous. Just as you or I might look like in similar circumstances.
We’re given a brief bio of the contestant, several shots of his anxious spouse or girlfriend, and a series of progressively more difficult questions that, even as the prize money increases, never get all that difficult. The process is made accessible because the questions are multiple choice (perfect for shouting the answers at the screen).
And then, one way or another, it’s over. The entire drama lasts no more than 15 or 20 minutes, during which viewers go from setup to resolution. Try cutting to the chase that quickly on “ER” or “Ally McBeal” or, from the networks’ perspective, doing it as cheaply.
Whether the producers actually planned it that way is hard to know, but in various guises we’re likely to see more of these mini-entertainment blocks. Already, those with high-speed Internet connections have access to short videos and music of various forms partly a function of the technological limitations of carrying long-form programming over the Web, but perhaps also a nod to ever shorter attention spans and viewers who want easy and quick resolution.
It took Julia Child 30 minutes to make a meal. It took “Playhouse 90” an hour and a half to resolve a story line. In today’s world, that’s perceived as altogether too long an investment for the ultimate payout.
Mark Lacter is editor of the Business Journal.
