Television / the disaster of reality seeking

Welcome to another season of fame and publicity addiction. Welcome to Big Brother Africa, to Coca-Cola Popstars and of course, welcome to a brand spanking new season of Idols. I'll admit the powers that be, Mr. Carl Fisher, CEO of Magicworks (Idols - who wears a really nice gold chain), have taken a gamble at this as I would think, as would any other evolved human brain, that the results of last season would speak for themselves. Never the less, 'Take im' Carl has brushed off criticism and ventured into his marketing territory. So much so that Jacqui Mybergh (pronounced Jaquey - barf bag, anyone?), editor of Style magazine (which also, in its wisdom, decided to label that Zimbabwean train station lap dancer, Grace Mugabe, as 'The Best Dressed Woman of 2002'), has labeled Carl Fisher one of the most influential and powerful people in South Africa. The phrases 'You wish' or 'Scrapping the bottom on the barrel' be applicable here, I believe.

Last week, I made my point through a letter to BMG Records South Africa. It did not occur to David Thompson, judge of Idols last year and God forbid, this year too, that the points expressed were researched over the course of a year and that, without being arrogant or anything, you had some of the finest minds in the country examining the phenomenon of reality stardom. Instead of sitting back and admitting: 'Well, Simon Reader was right about last time and he'll probably be right again,' I get some PA's reply in email calling me 1) Inappropriate 2) Offensive 3) Unacceptable 4) Inconsiderate. As Thompson is also the managing director of BMG Records South Africa, this response sent me into a mood that I could only describe in the word 'ungodly'. To be fair at the time, I did acknowledge that it was NOT Thompson who sent me the reply but this pencil pushing, desk sucking tart from the South who I'll deal with in due course.

Why was I right last year? Well, Heinz Winkler, the winner, that Gestapoey looking hunk with a flat nose and a bad voice, has sold 8700 copies of his CD in three months. Oscar 'Oskido' Mdlongwa, in his first four days, sold 24000. Now, place the arithmetic together; a) Idols was viewed by 2 million people - allegedly b) As the winner, Heinz received an astounding 5794003 votes - allegedly. To be fair, allegations of gay syndicates were rife - their attention focused not upon talent but the possibility that maybe the Bible belting crooner was one of their ilk (which I suspect, he may well be). Taking into account that there is clear discrepancy between votes and sales, maybe you would like to comment on this; last week, a graphic designer with a saliva problem approached me to ask whether he could give Heinz Winkler a beating on the premise that his mother wasted his money. My eyebrows raised to such a decision until I remembered Mrs. Winkler from my university days where she sat as secretary to the English Department. 5974000 votes made from, what is officially a government telephone sounds like it comes from the pits of hell, but, then again, so did her attitude toward me when I kept having to remind her, always two weeks after the due date of an assignment, that in fact she repeatedly failed to notice my project underneath the carpet as it had slipped there upon my action to place it under the door. 'Why don't you use the postbox like all your fellow students?' 'Conformity is NOT on this university's agenda!' was my usual retort (I once also suggested that I loved coming late…how do like that one huh?) Whilst on the topic of Mrs. Winkler in the English Department, I might just admit responsibility once and for all; when Heinz's mother mentioned to one of my tutors that she would approach the HOD with regard to my tardiness within dissertation deadlines, I wrote a note to her saying that she should she nice to me or else she will be sacked. Then I faked the Rector's signature. Sorry.

Carl Fisher and his associates at Magicworks are a cruel lot indeed. Not one single Idol has turned into the International Musician that was the pay off line (well, that depends; is Namibia a country? If so, my apologies as Heinz is massive in Windhoek). Not one single Idol has remained with that greasy publicity agent Marcus Brewster. Not one single Idol has managed to have MTV air a music video (the latter are making an effort, but the quality for such exposure is sadly unavailable). So what is the point of having yet another year of Idols? Well, to make money and, in doing so, appease the appetite of a very small number of South African people (when you take into account our population is in near excess of 45 000 000). The only thing Big about Big Brother is the size of its ass - now having seen it itself. But it must be that ear-twiddling secretary at BMG who deserves the cake. 'What, Mr. Reader, would you propose as a suitable replacement? Can you? Instead of trying to make absurd suggestions (sic), why do you not approach Magicworks yourself?

Put yourself in her position, make a deal with God and attempt to live the life of anyone who gets paid to look out of a window everyday. Fine. Were you, however, encouraged to use initiative, you would include the dire state of funding associated with the arts as the current and realistic backdrop. Did it not occur to anyone, throughout this whole reality phenomenon, that real talent is not the loud and dancing Shane in the front of the class with his hands in the air, but the quiet and withdrawn Sebastian at the back, who's face is decorated with a beautiful mixture of snot and marmite and who does not really enjoy the attention of people? If you want class, you find it. If you want international talent, you search long and hard for it, using the money that you set for auditions to cover travel expenses. You make an effort to go to people, rather than expect them to come to you. With all this money, I have calculated that budget for 5 feature films, 9 television series and 41 documentaries. There is sufficient budget, on top of this, for 3 five piece bands, a home for each plus all expenses regarding two trips to America and England. All three guilty parties have one positive thing in common - they really know how to spend money.

It is a weighted choice that dates back to the origins of entertainment. Watch a film like 8 Mile, where the impossibility of struggle being more realistic than life itself surfaces and provokes a sense of bilateral thought or watch booze night on Big Brother where the evening is cherry'd by someone knocking one out in the Jacuzzi.

It will also take your attention to acknowledge this year's judging panel; like a bunch of humpty dumptys, sitting together, each claiming to have an 'angle' that placed them there. Randall Abrahams, that brilliant businessman, little smart suit with a little leather briefcase, recounting stories about how he heard Dolly Parton sing in Colorado at a bar (it's a classic schoolyard argument, (Kid1) - My daddy is stronger than yours…(Kid 2) Well I saw Dolly Parton singing in a bar in Colorado…(Kid 3) Well I slept with Heidi Klum - allegedly). Egghead two needs no introduction, Mr. David Thompson, Managing Director Of BMG Records South Africa, part-time mechanic with tow truck interests and a PA with a tongue as long as my arm with steam coming off it. But it is the biggest Egg of all, Mr. Gareth Cliff, who floors me. 'You have to convince me to play your song on my show.' Nice touch that. Forgive me for not curtsying.

There is an old woman who 'takes' her tea in our gardens everyday in exactly the same way as she takes it up…sorry, anyways, and, in between her continual moaning about South Africa, she said something very interesting about reality tv. 'Heaven knows why one has to pay to watch a bunch of poor white people behaving in a disgraceful fashion - you could get it for free if you just went down to Fourways Mall. Or even Durban for that matter…'