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Brad Womack is certainly a nice guy. On Monday, he called 911 when he discovered a man having a panic attack in a park near his home. A southern gentleman in every respect, he displayed his care for people on myriad occasions throughout his two-season run as the Bachelor--which may be the problem. He cares for every one, but each about the same and in the same way.
That’s what the winner of THE BACHELOR season 15, Emily Maynard, told fans on ABC’s THE BACHELOR: AFTER THE FINAL ROSE on March 14th. She did so to explain why watching the weekly episodes every Monday night caused her to doubt whether her chemistry with Brad is special, or in any way exceptional to that which he had with some of his other suitors, including runner-up Chantal O’Brien, or fellow finalists Shawntel Newton, Michelle Money, or Ashley Hebert.
The normally poised and elegant Emily told THE BACHELOR host Chris Harrison that she and Brad fought every Tuesday morning since ABC began broadcasting her season on January 3rd. In fact, more often than not, Brad's grilling took place right after the show went off air on Monday nights.
“It ain’t good for Brad Womack," she said. "It ain’t a good day in his house." She continues: “Every Monday, I would have severe anxiety….[Brad] would call me—he knew it was coming—and he would go, ‘I love you so much. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.’ I’m like, ‘I heard you say that to two other girls tonight.’ I mean, I obviously knew it wasn’t going to be the Let’s Watch Emily and Brad Fall in Love Show. But, I didn’t think he would give them so much material to work with.'” (Emphasis hers, but inflected with a Southern drawl.)
Of course, THE BACHELOR is first and foremost a television show: not, simply, an event to help two people find each other and fall in love. Thus, the outcome is often unpredictable, to force people to tune in regularly; and, hopefully, over time, ratchet up the ratings. Brad Womack’s first turn as the Bachelor in season 11 set a series of failed relationships into motion. He rejected both DeAnna Pappas and Jenni Croft, the two finalists. After which, the former was featured in the fourth season of THE BACHELORETTE. DeAnna chose Jesse Csincsak in the end, got engaged, and then announced, just four months later, that they had broken up. The next Bachelorette, Jillian Harris, and the next three Bachelors, Matt Grant, Jason Mesnick, and Jake Pavelka, also got engaged to their winners, with each couple having broken up within months of their respective season finales. Brad and "Em," as he calls her, didn't break free of that after-finale, mixed message approach of which fans and producers have grown accustomed. Indeed, they followed suite in presenting their messy, if not murky, future after the final rose.
Emily commenced her segment of the episode by airing their dirty 'relationship' laundry straight away, which may have only spiked the ratings. According to the overnight Nielsen's, 13.87 million viewers tuned in to watch the two-hour season finale from 8-10pm EST (TVBYTHENUMBERS.com). But, an additional 88,000 viewers joined the hourlong AFTER THE FINAL ROSE episode which followed, wherein the couple dished about the relationship and other behind-the-scenes action. That night, ABC was all BACHELOR, all night; and, although BACHELOR's finale ratings were down 15% from last year, its 13.87 million viewers and an average ratings share of 4.5 in the 18-49 demographic put the network ahead of #2 FOX (with HOUSE and THE CHICAGO CODE), #3 CBS (with HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER, MAD LOVE, and repeats of TWO AND A HALF MEN, MIKE & MOLLY, and HAWAII FIVE-O), and last-place NBC (with CHUCK, THE EVENT, and HARRY'S LAW) (HOLLYWOODREPORTER.com).
Indeed, when the verbal spillage about their relationship ceased at approximately the halfway point in the broadcast, and Emily expressed her love for Brad by saying: "I just love who he is as a person and I know I can't see my everyday life without him in it. So, yeah, I absolutely do see us getting married", the ratings went down. Nielsen reported a loss of 1.4 million viewers (from 14.634 to 13.217), as well as a decline in ratings share (from 4.9 to 4.4) among the key 18-49 year olds--the demographic that draws premium advertisers and, therefore, pays the bills for programs like THE BACHELOR--when she stopped lambasting him (TV BY THE NUMBERS.com). Viewers like drama. But, maybe, they also aren't keen on totally happy endings in reality dating shows.
That said--and, okay. I admit their affectionate exchange, and Emily accepting her now resized ring, made me a bit furklempt--THE BACHELOR/BACHELORETTE franchise is sort of in a rut. But, it seems that all reality shows over the past few seasons have become somewhat stagnant in their format; and 2011 is the year that reality game shows, especially the playoff genre, got an overhaul, with many popular franchises changing their formulas for success.
One example that springs to mind is CBS's SURVIVOR, which began its 22nd season on February 15th. The longest-running reality competition recently changed the way it casts its gang of 18 castaways. As is traditionally the case, the game of SURVIVOR pits two teams against one other. But, starting this season, each team is now led by a notorious villain from SURVIVOR’s past: Russell Hantz, the self-professed millionaire oilman from Dayton, TX, who was the runner-up in seasons 19 and 20; and, “Boston Rob” Mariano, a reality “television personality," who came up short of winning three previous seasons of SURVIVOR, as well as two seasons of THE AMAZING RACE. Mariano has taken reality television by storm since he first appeared on SURVIVOR: MARGUESAS in 2002. Subsequently, he starred in a short-lived reality series, ROB AND AMBER: AGAINST THE ODDS, on the FOX REALITY CHANNEL in 2006, and finally took home the gold by winning the All-Stars edition of REALITY OBSESSED, a Canadian half-hour reality show, on TVtropolis in 2008.
The personae of Boston Rob and Russell well illustrate the current era of the mass production of celebrity, explored in no finer fashion than by Graeme Turner in ORDINARY PEOPLE AND THE MEDIA (2009). A critical media scholar, Turner coined the phase the 'demotic turn' in this book to describe the increased visibility of the ordinary person in the media today. Russell and Boston Rob, as examples, illustrate how an ordinary guy--not an actor or professional entertainer, but rather an oilman and a construction foreman/part-time bartender/head hockey coach (Rob's amalgamated profession prior to SURVIVOR) can become an overnight television sensation and, ultimately, a pop-cultural icon.
Although mass produced celebrity takes place across the cultural industries today--from talk radio to blogging and user-generated technology--the reality genre is inherently formulated to create stars out of regular people. By simply recording their lived experiences, and then producers, writers, and editors constructing and manipulating these personae and broadcasting them to the world, non-actors, amateur singers/dancers, and even less-than-talented wannabes can set themselves apart and parlay their 15 minutes of fame into a career (at least as a "television personality," ala Boston Rob and Russell).
One needs to look no further than William Hung, the famous AMERICAN IDOL (AI) failure, who secured a record deal with KOCH ENTERTAINMENT, based on 1.1 million (and counting) hits of the YouTube video of his AI audition with SHE BANGS (property of FOX TELEVISION). Hung couldn't sing his way out of paper bag--then, or now. He certainly doesn't look the part of an 'American Idol.' Those two glaring observations aside, he is the perfect poster child for the neoliberal ideology of reality TV. Hung was touted and rewarded for being a self-made, self-promoted, and self-disciplined individual who won at the game of AMERICAN IDOL (and life), even though he didn't actually win the season finale.
By sending voted-off contestants to “Redemption Island” instead of home after they've been voted off by their tribemates, this season's SURVIVOR, like AMERICAN IDOL, has added a twist that further promotes the mass production of celebrity. No longer about keeping the tribe strong, or taking care of your own alliance in the first half of the season, castaways must now consider the possibility that voting off a tribemate will give him the opportunity to play a gladiator-styled (two-man) competition to earn his way back into the game proper. With this added element, Mark Brunette, the creator of SURVIVOR, has not only increased the number of individual, as well as tactical and social skills required to survive until the merge at midseason, but has also added three key narrative archetypes which have proven to satisfy fans of all mediums of storytelling over the years: namely, that of the "hero's journey,'" the Darwinian notion of "survival of the fittest," and the exciting climaxes inherent in David-and-Goliath moments.
In terms of buttressing the bottom line of the neoliberal ideology of the television industry, these devises have merit, as well. For example, by proving their skills, man to man, an individual contestant can now further promote himself to fans and producers of the show as someone to get behind for the long haul--as a rising star, if you will. Which is where the third, though associated, trope of this retooled formula comes in. Besides tapping into the "hero's journey" and the concept of "survival of the fittest," this Gladiator move sets up David-and-Goliath moments that pit older stars against the as yet unknown stars in the making. For, on Redemption Island, even seasoned veterans can fall, as a crying Russell so brilliantly illustrated when he succumbed to the newbie, Matt, in a duel on March 9th--a loss which sent this antihero home for the first time in history. On the bright side, Matt turned out to be a formidable contender; and, thus, was put forward as the new "star," with whom Boston Rob may soon have to content.
Although mass produced celebrity takes place across the cultural industries today--from talk radio to blogging and user-generated technology--the reality genre is inherently formulated to create stars out of regular people. By simply recording their lived experiences, and then producers, writers, and editors constructing and manipulating these personae and broadcasting them to the world, non-actors, amateur singers/dancers, and even less-than-talented wannabes can set themselves apart and parlay their 15 minutes of fame into a career (at least as a "television personality," ala Boston Rob and Russell).
One needs to look no further than William Hung, the famous AMERICAN IDOL (AI) failure, who secured a record deal with KOCH ENTERTAINMENT, based on 1.1 million (and counting) hits of the YouTube video of his AI audition with SHE BANGS (property of FOX TELEVISION). Hung couldn't sing his way out of paper bag--then, or now. He certainly doesn't look the part of an 'American Idol.' Those two glaring observations aside, he is the perfect poster child for the neoliberal ideology of reality TV. Hung was touted and rewarded for being a self-made, self-promoted, and self-disciplined individual who won at the game of AMERICAN IDOL (and life), even though he didn't actually win the season finale.
By sending voted-off contestants to “Redemption Island” instead of home after they've been voted off by their tribemates, this season's SURVIVOR, like AMERICAN IDOL, has added a twist that further promotes the mass production of celebrity. No longer about keeping the tribe strong, or taking care of your own alliance in the first half of the season, castaways must now consider the possibility that voting off a tribemate will give him the opportunity to play a gladiator-styled (two-man) competition to earn his way back into the game proper. With this added element, Mark Brunette, the creator of SURVIVOR, has not only increased the number of individual, as well as tactical and social skills required to survive until the merge at midseason, but has also added three key narrative archetypes which have proven to satisfy fans of all mediums of storytelling over the years: namely, that of the "hero's journey,'" the Darwinian notion of "survival of the fittest," and the exciting climaxes inherent in David-and-Goliath moments.
In terms of buttressing the bottom line of the neoliberal ideology of the television industry, these devises have merit, as well. For example, by proving their skills, man to man, an individual contestant can now further promote himself to fans and producers of the show as someone to get behind for the long haul--as a rising star, if you will. Which is where the third, though associated, trope of this retooled formula comes in. Besides tapping into the "hero's journey" and the concept of "survival of the fittest," this Gladiator move sets up David-and-Goliath moments that pit older stars against the as yet unknown stars in the making. For, on Redemption Island, even seasoned veterans can fall, as a crying Russell so brilliantly illustrated when he succumbed to the newbie, Matt, in a duel on March 9th--a loss which sent this antihero home for the first time in history. On the bright side, Matt turned out to be a formidable contender; and, thus, was put forward as the new "star," with whom Boston Rob may soon have to content.
Not to be left out in the year of refurbished reality TV formats, months before the 10th season began airing on FOX on January 19, 2011, the executive producer of AMERICAN IDOL, Nigel Lythgoe, announced that AI would change some of its rules, as well as add challenges within the competition. Of significance in terms of the outcome of the game, producers have done away with the series of rounds that shrink the Top 24 to the Top 12. Lythgoe told Natalie Abrams of TVGUIDE.com they changed the format because, in the past, "...[the top 24] were [not] very good." Moreover, he "was bored with them by the time they got there” (November 17, 2010).
So, after two weeding-out rounds in Hollywood, and a third one in Las Vegas, the cast was cut to 13: the five top five male and female vote-getters, as well as three 'wild cards' picked by the judges following a live sing-off on March 3, 2011. After the show went off air, fans lit up the boards, complaining of the "abrupt" downsizing and "elimination of some of the best singers" (e.g., Tim Halperin and Julie Zorilla) in this year's competition.
What most angered fans, ironically, is the neoliberal ideology that underpins reality TV. Because Halperin and Zorilla and others didn’t hit their performance out of the ballpark on that one night, they missed their chance to win over fans and producers. Tough luck. Because, in the world of television, especially as described by Graeme Turner as the "demotic turn" of new media industries, the pressure is on the individual to put up or shut up when he gets his one (and only) big break to become a star.
Lythgoe expounded upon this individualized philosophy of self-promotion and self-discipline when he told TVGUIDE.com's Abrams that American Idol producers would make contestants work even harder to make themselves over in season 10. “The finalists will face new challenges, including contests to make the best music video, to promote themselves, and to work with a band and dancers for an awards show-style performance.” If these new requirements don’t further support my argument in line with Turner's that reality TV (and television in general) primarily promotes a neoliberal ideology of the “self-made” contestant to fatten its bottom line and contribute to status quo North American capitalism, then I don't know what does.
Lythgoe as much as said this to Scott Huver of PEOPLE.com when he hinted that American Idol had gone off course in recent past seasons by touting singer-songwriters/instrumentalists, instead of the best recording artists to be found in the U.S. today. Lythgoe said: "People sort of lost a little bit behind instruments. I see no reason why we won't use guitars and pianos at least once or twice across the season, but I don't just want them everyday behind the bloody guitar.” One could argue that Lythgoe wants his hit show to veer away from the possibility that a guitar-strumming male will take the crown for a fourth season in a row, since the past three winners, David Cook (Season 7), Kris Allen (Season 8), and Lee DeWyze (Season 9), fall into this category, and also have had some of the worst selling debut albums in the history of the global IDOL franchise.
As part of the larger conglomerate behind AMERICAN IDOL, such dismal ancillary marking efforts have hurt the bottom line of 19 Entertainment (since 2010, known as XIX Entertainment), owned by Simon Fuller, the creator of the global IDOL franchise. Notwithstanding the spectacular success of the show proper, which is consistently #1 or #2 in weekly ratings, and their lucrative advertising and product placement tie-ins with official sponsors Ford Motor Company, Coca-Cola, and AT&T, XIX Entertainment has continued to lose money on the ancillary products of their singer-songwriter/instrumentalist winners, as well as those whose personae don't fit the cookie-cutter (skinny, cute, white, American Idol-next-store) mold of Carrie Underwood or Chris Daughtry, (e.g., Taylor Hicks and Ruben Studdard). So, again, these format changes are meant not only to make the genre somewhat shiny and new to entice old and converted fans alike to watch AI this season, but also to buttress the bottom lines of every corporation and interest group up and down the conglomerate food chain that is XIX Entertainment.
As part of the larger conglomerate behind AMERICAN IDOL, such dismal ancillary marking efforts have hurt the bottom line of 19 Entertainment (since 2010, known as XIX Entertainment), owned by Simon Fuller, the creator of the global IDOL franchise. Notwithstanding the spectacular success of the show proper, which is consistently #1 or #2 in weekly ratings, and their lucrative advertising and product placement tie-ins with official sponsors Ford Motor Company, Coca-Cola, and AT&T, XIX Entertainment has continued to lose money on the ancillary products of their singer-songwriter/instrumentalist winners, as well as those whose personae don't fit the cookie-cutter (skinny, cute, white, American Idol-next-store) mold of Carrie Underwood or Chris Daughtry, (e.g., Taylor Hicks and Ruben Studdard). So, again, these format changes are meant not only to make the genre somewhat shiny and new to entice old and converted fans alike to watch AI this season, but also to buttress the bottom lines of every corporation and interest group up and down the conglomerate food chain that is XIX Entertainment.
Coming full circle, then, THE BACHELOR has also implemented changes across its franchise this year that could not only affect ratings, but also (and more importantly) change the discourses and gender constructions at work in one of the most successful reality dating games in television history. For the first time, a returning Bachelor, a.k.a. Brad Womack, was brought back from season 11 to reprise his role. THE BACHELOR’s creator, Mike Fleiss, is never shy when talking to the press about his foremost desire to draw viewers of past seasons of THE BACHELOR to subsequent iterations, and to entice them to tune into 'BACHELOR' spin-off's, THE BACHELORETTE and BACHELOR PAD. But, as discussed in relation to the aims of the producers of AMERICAN IDOL AND SURVIVOR, Fleiss' overall audience strategy hinges upon the reality TV genre's ability to manufacture stars out of unknowns. Fleiss used that strategy again this past season; however, he ratcheted it up a notch by bringing back a Bachelor for a second time--and, moreover, the only one in history to chose neither women at the end of his first season on the show.
With this 'super-sized star' move, Fleiss has capitalized on Brad's known and longstanding (if notorious) “star" persona, rather than bank, as he traditionally had, on a Bachelor who was a mere suitor in a past season. After all, viewers had the entirely of ten episodes in season 11 to get to know him. He's been in and out of the press ever since. And even if viewers hadn't watched THE BACHELOR 11, they may be enticed to tune in this season because of the significant buzz generated around him and his obvious commitment issues. Runner-Up Chantal O'Brien well illustrated Brad's impact on viewers past, and women in general when, "for all the women in American," she slapped his face upon meeting him for the first time.
With this 'super-sized star' move, Fleiss has capitalized on Brad's known and longstanding (if notorious) “star" persona, rather than bank, as he traditionally had, on a Bachelor who was a mere suitor in a past season. After all, viewers had the entirely of ten episodes in season 11 to get to know him. He's been in and out of the press ever since. And even if viewers hadn't watched THE BACHELOR 11, they may be enticed to tune in this season because of the significant buzz generated around him and his obvious commitment issues. Runner-Up Chantal O'Brien well illustrated Brad's impact on viewers past, and women in general when, "for all the women in American," she slapped his face upon meeting him for the first time.
Indeed, producers further exploited Brad's relationship troubles by choosing to tie in Brad’s inability to bond with either of the Season 11 finalists, DeAnna Pappas and Jenni Croft, to "his" decision to retain a on-air therapist throughout this past season to help him remain open to the women and the idea of committing to and marrying a woman and starting a family. By using such meta-discourses between Brad and his counselor to bring in a new theme of self-help to the series--not to mention using these discussions to talk about the effects of divorce on a child, a fatherless boy’s inability to love, and the ways in which psychotherapy can help a person to heal and commit--THE BACHELOR now speaks to a viewership more interested in this angle than in the girls evidently sole aim of getting roses at the end of the night.
That said, such an element in the show's serial design also mirrors the self-made and self-disciplined philosophy of neoliberalism that underpins the genre. For, broadcasting Brad’s therapy sessions as meta-texts (i.e., teaching tools), pushes the themes of self-improvement, as well as a recommitment to the ideology of the nuclear family.
The most progressive change in format came the morning after THE BACHELOR: AFTER THE FINAL ROSE, when Fleiss announced that the next Bachelorette is none other than third-place finalist Ashley Hebert. This is momentous because the 26-year-old is a 4th-year student in dentistry at the University of Pennsylvania, and will be the first professional woman BACHELORETTE in history.
Fleiss shared his reasons for picking Ashley with Ann Oldenburg of USA TODAY: “She’s kind of cool; she’s spunky; and she’s got a lot of personality," he said. "It’s also the first time we had an actual professional woman as a Bachelorette. She’s not a party planner, she’s a dentist.”
Well, not quite, Mr. Fleiss. She’s actually a 4th-year student in dentistry, and not a dentist. Not yet. But that’s just pulling hairs.
Well, not quite, Mr. Fleiss. She’s actually a 4th-year student in dentistry, and not a dentist. Not yet. But that’s just pulling hairs.
Fleiss continues: “[Picking a professional Bachelorette is] a good step for us. I think it’s a cool good lesson for young ladies out there to see an accomplished woman still struggling to put the personal side of her life together. That’s something a lot of women can relate to. She will be a different kind of Bachelorette.”
It is, indeed, a "cool" and progressive move for reality TV--and for nonfiction television, in general. But, as is often the case, Fleiss shows his hand by the end of the interview. He's either careless (which I doubt), or isn't afraid to broadcast the true aims of the television industry (possibly more likely). "There were a lot of possibilities [for the next Bachelorette]," he said. "We just felt Ashley had the most fan appeal.”
So there it is; that bottom line again. Thanks, Mike, for making it even clearer.
