Peep show

Who better than the Eye network to bring to American voyeurs an unblinking look into the lives of ordinary people avid for their 15 minutes of fame? Enter Big Brother, the next step in reality television. Critics and educators ponder the phenomenon's effect on our culture.

By ERIC DEGGANS

© St. Petersburg Times, published July 4, 2000

[Times art: Octavio Perez]

After the ratings successes of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and Survivor, a host of "unscripted" projects are under consideration at every major network.

But the lesson learned from the avalanche of game shows that failed last year in Millionaire's wake is simple: Success may spark a trend, but expect only the first one or two series to survive.

"The networks will buy up these concepts because they're afraid if they don't, someone else will get the next Survivor," says Steve Beverly, a professor of broadcasting at Union University in Tennessee.

"Most people will say these shows are alike, so it's a race to see who can get on first. And just like the Millionaire wanna-bes, they'll wind up rushed on the air before they're ready."

The show that kills the trend just might be CBS' Big Brother, a series that trains the media microscope on 10 people kept in an 1,800-square-foot house outfitted with 60 microphones, 28 cameras, two bedrooms and one bathroom -- cutting off residents' contact with the outside world in a bizarre mixture of Survivor, The Real World and 1984.

Planned for 89 episodes' worth of prime time real estate over three months, Big Brother will inundate U.S. viewers with reality TV, using a model the show's European producers have already developed for Portugal, Spain, Britain, Germany, Italy and other countries.

The series follows the rules set last year by Millionaire: Get viewers hooked while the TV world is stuck in summertime reruns and build a bond with fans before people get sick of the genre.

"We've never done a show remotely like this," says Les Moonves, CBS television president. "But what this year has taught us is, there are no rules."

Like Survivor, Big Brother melds game show competition with the emotion of reality TV, forcing participants to live without outside contact or conveniences such as CD players and washing machines.

The cast, ages early 20s to 40s, is given a weekly household budget equal to $5 per person each day. Because that's not enough to buy groceries for everyone, they provide much of their own food, including eggs (from live chickens they're given) and vegetables they grow.

Participants are given tasks each week as challenges. On overseas shows, they included keeping a fire burning constantly for several days and pedaling 1,500 miles in a week on a stationary bike. The cast must wager a portion of their grocery money on the outcome, winning up to 50 percent more cash if they succeed.

"It's about starting conversation," says Paul Romer, executive producer of Big Brother for the Dutch company Endemol Entertainment. "When you see a soap opera like Bold and the Beautiful, that's all conversation, too. So this is not so unusual."

Most shows are half-hour episodes, edited from the previous day's events, with Thursday reserved for a live, hourlong event. The twist comes every other week, when residents must choose two cast members as candidates for expulsion.

Viewers, who can peek in on a feed from the Big Brother cameras any time at the Web site http://bigbrother2000.com, are given several days to vote by telephone on which of the two must leave. The loser is announced during a live, hourlong show Thursday and escorted to a nearby set where Early Show newsreader Julie Chen will interview them.

The last one in the house wins $500,000 (runners-up receive $50,000 to $100,000).

"We want to see the real people . . . real emotions," says the smooth-talking Romer, waving aside a journalist's comparison of him to Christof, the smooth-talking producer who makes a TV show of an unwitting man's life in the film The Truman Show. "The difference between The Truman Show and Big Brother is that . . . Big Brother is real."

Certainly, CBS has put much of its corporate muscle behind the show -- debuting it behind the ultra-popular Survivor and placing Chen on the Thursday episodes, despite criticism that it puts a CBS News employee too close to an entertainment product.

"I guess this is voyeuristic TV . . . (and) I have no problem with it," says Moonves, when asked if Big Brother doesn't take reality TV exploitation too far. "There are 500 channels out there. If you don't like it, change the channel."

Reality TV: At what cost?

Part game show, part real-life drama, reality TV shows have inspired an array of critics to predict the death of modern civilization. Others maintain the programs are a harmless, pleasing distraction.

The truth is subtler, with this new genre affecting the TV industry and viewers in a few unobtrusive yet unwelcome ways.

Impact No. 1: Acceptance.

Before 2000, the idea of stranding castaways on a desert island for TV entertainment sounded cartoonishly exploitative. But following the success of Survivor, no idea seems too outlandish.

"We were all kind of dreading (Survivor) . . . but it's turned out to be the most family-friendly show on TV . . . no nudity, little violence . . . you can watch it with your 8-year-old," said Robert Thompson, head of Syracuse University's Center for the Study of Popular Television.

"Everyone who claimed this would be the end of the world now sounds full of hyperbole. It's an accidental stroke of genius."

Impact No. 2: Increasing extremism.

Millionaire hands out huge sums of money and Survivor has already stranded people on a desert island. Expect rival programmers to up the ante.

"They will have to offer something more intense -- either by introducing sex or violence," says Stuart Fischoff, a professor of media psychology at California State University in Los Angeles. "That's what you worry about: TV producers saying, "What else can we do?' "

Consider the shows waiting in the wings.

The Runner, developed by executive producers Ben Affleck and Matt Damon for ABC, features a contestant "fugitive" chased by average folks -- similar to Wanted, a show Fox has picked up featuring three runners chased by former bounty hunters and law enforcement officers.

Fox is reportedly considering a show called Boot Camp, featuring 20 participants put through the same rigors as Navy SEAL training. ABC also has committed to The Mole, a competition featuring 10 people tackling physical and mental tasks while trying to uncover a saboteur within their group.

"Each show will one-up the other in the voyeur element, until -- God forbid -- something terrible happens," says Jamie Huysman, a Fort Lauderdale-based clinical psychologist once hired by talk shows such as Leeza and Geraldo to provide counseling to former guests.

"Geraldo (Rivera) used to say that to me all the time: "What am I going to do next? Where can I take this?' " Huysman adds. "I really think we're getting ourselves into something troubling."

But such concerns may be mitigated by another trend in reality programming:

Impact No. 3: A kinder, gentler reality show.

Past forays into reality TV have often involved a heaping helping of shame, whether it's the no-goodniks arrested during Fox's COPS, cheating husbands exposed on Jerry Springer or air-headed party animals on The Real World.

But Millionaire changed that equation. Suddenly you had a game show with real people who looked smart and were encouraged to excel. Those who did found themselves turned into instant celebrities.

Survivor has offered a similar spirit: keeping the sex, back-stabbing and conflicts to a minimum, while offering a show that generally depicts average folks under extreme circumstances trying their hardest to succeed.

Unlike COPS and Jerry Springer -- shows built on debasing criminals and the poor for the audience's amusement -- Millionaire and Survivor offer a different, G-rated thrill.

"The worst thing Survivor has done is give a bad stereotype to Pacific Island culture," says Syracuse University's Thompson, referring to the show's Tiki torches and a bamboo-filled set. "I keep comparing it to bad luau night at the Howard Johnson's."

Impact No. 4: Average people get their 15 minutes -- and then some.

Call it the Darva Conger Dynamic (for Real World fans, it's known as the Puck Principle).

One of the unspoken attractions to reality TV show participants is the brief burst of celebrity that follows their appearance.

"We have cultivated a culture that is obsessed with celebrity, and these days, it doesn't matter how you get it," Fischoff says. "You enter this Faustian bargain of selling space in your personal life for this celebrity. And eventually, you have no room left."

Still, for many subjects, the race is on to prolong their proverbial 15 minutes of fame.

Big Brother alums in Europe have sold 3.5-million CDs by releasing albums after their time under the microscope.

Disgraced Multimillionaire bride Darva Conger took off her clothes in Playboy to extend her celebrity shelf life, swearing unconvincingly on NBC's Today show and CNN's Larry King Live last week that she was forced into doing the pictorial because she couldn't find work as a nurse.

"History tells us that if people are given the opportunity to expose themselves for celebrity or profit, they will . . . particularly those who lead lives of quiet or loud desperation," Fischoff says.

"We've also created a technological culture where you can exhibit yourself wherever you are . . . it's democratized exhibitionism. It's really symptomatic of a greater malady . . . the destruction of civility and modesty in modern culture."

AT A GLANCE

Big Brother debuts at 9 p.m. Wednesday on WTSP-Ch. 10. The series then airs at 8 p.m. Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays.

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