Radiation by Fiona Rae

Oh God

Mention of new reality shows, or reality shows in general, always makes me feel like Blackadder whenever Baldrick says “I have a cunning plan.” Imagine that sardonic tone: “Oh God.” American Idol? Oh God. Fear Factor’s coming back? Oh God, no. The Player hosted by Nicky Watson? Oh God, no, please.

However, some sicker individuals than me are actually able to sit through entire hours of this crap without attempting self harm afterwards. Ant Timpson still loves that Paradise Hotel:

You should have taken my advice and stayed with Paradise Hotel, which last week aced itself by being one of the most evil slices of reality TV by inviting all of the show’s previous losers (who have sat at home watching the ongoing show in a fury) back on for a limited time. Cue verbal assaults and threats of physical violence. It made the temper tantrums of Temptation Island look like outtakes from an Olsen twins flick. Sick, very sick.

The Apprentice is solid entertainment. Burnett knows how to put reality TV together like no other producer. He turns it into good drama.

Oh God.

Robyn Gallagher is very excited about Big Brother, which Prime has taken up (TV2 is probably too busy with American Idol):

Two of the housemates are parents, and already it’s been rumoured that Aphrodite and Igor are secretly married. Not only that, but Krystal the ex-stripper revealed that her stage name was Delta (not the other way around).

This year the old executive producer Peter Abbott has left and former McLeod’s Daughters producer Kris Noble has taken over, but I suspect we'll be the same old nudie shower antics and spa pool shenanigans. But that's how I like it.

Oh God. What can I say? I find reality TV, in general, utterly, monumentally, stupendously, stratospherically boring. I just don’t care about a bunch of people I have no wish to meet playing meaningless games for money, people whose only distinguishing features are their deep shallowness and their utter self-absorption. It’s no surprise that the US, the most self-absorbed nation on earth, is the progenitor of most of this garbage, and when it wasn’t their idea, they’ve taken one, run with it and spewed it back. An hour watching Survivor is an hour you’ll never get back. And before you say it; my only interest in watching NZ Idol was because it featured New Zealanders.

On the other hand, the US, the most self-absorbed nation on earth, can produce the brilliance of Six Feet Under and The Sopranos, the American Dream confronted, investigated and utterly fucked around with. Then of course there’s Buffy.

Speaking of the Whedonverse, here’s an Ain’t It Cool News report from sci-fi awards Saturn Awards, where LotR won a few, and also Joss Whedon for Angel and Firefly.

Also this story from the NY Times about spoilers. The whole internet is one big spoiler for us, as we’re behind the US on most shows, but interesting nonetheless.

Loathe as I am to give away journalism’s little secrets, looking on the NZ On Air website is a good way of checking out where the money’s going and what programmes we can expect in the distant future. South Pacific Pictures got over $1.8m in December to make a children’s drama called Maddigan’s Fantasia; The Gibson Group (The Insiders Guide to Happiness) got over $1.2m for a comedy series called Facelift and Great Southern Television just got a squidge over $281,000 to also do a comedy series called The Unauthorised History of New Zealand.

Btw, has anyone got the hang of TV3's new weather graphics? I'm buggered if I have. The temperatures pop up like shooting gallery ducks at the fair, which makes me think they should be accompanied by a series of clangs and pings -- and the offer of a free stuffed animal to induce me to carry on watching. They sure need something.