Television: Why Reality TV Is Good For Us

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This has sitcom and drama writers praying for the reality bust. "The networks only have so much time and resources," says Amy Sherman-Palladino, creator of Gilmore Girls. "Rather than solely focusing on convincing the Olsen twins to allow themselves to be eaten by bears in prime time, I wish they would focus on coming up with something that would really last." TV does seem to be in overkill mode, as the networks have signed up dozens of dating shows, talent searches and other voyeurfests. And like an overheated NASDAQ, the reality market is bound to correct. But unlike earlier TV reality booms, this one is supported by a large, young audience that grew up on MTV's The Real World and considers reality as legitimate as dramas and sitcoms--and that, for now, prefers it.

And why not? It would be easier to bemoan reality shows' crowding out sitcoms and dramas if the latter weren't in such a rut. But the new network shows of fall 2002 were a creatively timid mass of remakes, bland family comedies and derivative cop dramas. Network executives dubbed them "comfort"--i.e., familiar and boring--TV. Whereas reality TV--call it "discomfort TV"--lives to rattle viewers' cages. It provokes. It offends. But at least it's trying to do something besides help you get to sleep. Some upcoming reality concepts are idealistic, like FX's American Candidate, which aims to field a "people's candidate" for President in 2004. Others are lowbrow, like ABC's The Will (relatives battle for an inheritance), FOX's Married by America (viewers vote to help pair up a bride and groom) and NBC's Around the World in 80 Dates (American bachelor seeks mates around the world; after all, how better to improve America's image than to send a stud to other countries to defile their women?). But all of them make you sit up and pay attention. "I like to make a show where people say, 'You can't put that on TV,'" says Fleiss. "Then I put it on TV."

By and large, reality shows aren't supplanting creative successes like 24 or Scrubs; they're filling in for duds like Presidio Med and MDs. As NBC reality chief Jeff Gaspin says, "There is a little survival-of-the-fittest thing this ends up creating." When sitcoms started cloning goofy suburban dads and quirky, pretty yuppies, we got The Osbournes. And now reality TV is becoming our source for involved stories about personal relationships. This used to be the stuff of dramas like the canceled Once and Again, until programmers began concentrating on series like CSI and Law & Order, which have characters as detailed and individuated as checkers pieces. By the time Survivor ends, you know its players better than you know Law & Order's Detective Briscoe after 11 years. Likewise, the WB's High School Reunion, which brings together classmates after 10 years, is really asking whether you're doomed to live out your high school role--"the jock," "the nerd" or whatnot--for life. Last fall two scripted shows, That Was Then and Do Over, asked the same question but with cardboard characters and silly premises involving time travel. They got canceled. High School Reunion got a second season.