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S I G H T S
Round 2
by Alana Kumbier
In fact, by mid-season I found myself too bored to watch. Reading Salon’s witty coverage of the ever-slow state of affairs in the Big Brother house was more enjoyable than forcing myself to watch the non-drama unfold. For the uninitiated, the concept was simple: CBS would stick 10 individuals in a fabricated, Ikea-style house for the duration of the summer. Observed by 28 cameras, the houseguests (as CBS refers to them) would have no personal time, and no privacy or space that would be off-limit from network surveillance. They would also be forbidden from leaving the house and its suburban-style yard, and would be cut off from all communication with the outside world. They would have only each other — and a series of inane "challenges" dreamed up by the show’s directors — for entertainment. On a weekly basis, the houseguests would nominate two of their own for eviction, and audience members would have the final say through call-in voting. The show’s "winner" would be the houseguest who had both avoided eviction and won the most call-in votes of support from the show’s audience. CBS’ decision to involve home viewers and to allow them to have a say in the show’s trajectory was innovative but highly problematic for the show’s development and dramatic arc. As it turned out, the American public (or, those members of the public who cared enough to vote) wanted one thing most of all — for the nice guys to finish last. And, generally, they did. Viewers immediately voted out the houseguests who might have provided the show with interesting conflict or tension. The Angry Black Man and the outspoken former-stripper were the first to go. The audience’s early choices set the tone for the show and sent a message to the houseguests: Play nice, or else. So what we got was a cuddly summer full of niceness, G-rated bedroom escapades and community bonding. In other words, not the stuff reality TV covers best. And when the ratings didn’t come close to touching Survivor’s, CBS executives chalked up the lack of excitement to "bad casting." This year, CBS learned from its past mistakes and delivered an improved version of Big Brother, one that seems to have lived up to its promise. While the set-up is essentially the same (save for the fact the house is better decorated and they got rid of the backyard chicken coop), there is a crucial difference: The audience has no say in who stay and who goes. Other than voting on "gifts" for the houseguests via a 99-cent phone call, the viewers are relegated to being distant voyeurs. This has made a tremendous difference in my viewing enjoyment. When I tuned in to the season debut in July, I used my previous Big Brother savvy to guess who’d get booted first. I presumed that loud, obnoxious Nicole would be the first to go, that gay Bunky would get ousted (because of fellow houseguests’ potential homophobia), and that the sweet houseguests — sassy, older mom Sheryl (whose 17-year-old son may have been embarrassed by the attention she received from the younger male houseguests), 20-something single-mothers Autumn and Krista, and middle-aged, anti-hip Kent from Tennessee — would prevail. I was wrong. The contestants, who now run the eviction process themselves, making it more like Survivor, have played tough. Sheryl and Autumn were ousted early on; their personalities, self-conscious and introspective by comparison to some of the others, worked against them. When Autumn adopted the love-me, cuddle-me attitude that served Brittany so well last year, it backfired. This time around, niceness doesn’t count for much, and among these conniving contestants, Autumn simply couldn’t cut it. Their early evictions were a precursor of things to come, as the season has been full of non-stop drama and incessant scheming. Indeed, in the show’s first weeks, Justin, a bartender from New Jersey, was expelled from the house for pulling a knife on a woman while the two were kissing and asking whether she would mind being killed — which was probably more than CBS bargained for. The producers must have been pleased, however, when two of the most attractive people, doctor Will and realtor/boat captain Shannon, started snuggling under the sheets. The duo quickly — and shamelessly — cast themselves as the most vain couple on primetime TV. (Since we are privy to their grooming habits, like Will’s whole-body-shaving and eyebrow-plucking rituals, we can state this with certainty.) There’s been plenty of disgusting behavior, as well. Watching Shannon — whose future likely includes stints as a personal trainer or spokesmodel — exact revenge on her nominator by using his toothbrush as a toilet-bowl cleaner probably ranked up their with the worst. On the positive side, and perhaps most astonishing to queer viewers like myself, we’ve witnessed a homophobic middle-aged Southern man overcome his biases and develop a close friendship with an openly gay man. We’ve also watched plenty of disputes, including one instance when Monica got angry with her roommates, seemingly without reason. Her rage, defined by repeated angry declarations that "It’s On!" (without any explanation of what "It" was or why It’s "On") gave the show’s producers a moment of explosive emotion without a serious threat to the houseguests, and provided viewers with some excitement. Unlike Angry Black Man Mega from season one, Monica, this year’s sole black contestant, has proven herself a lasting player, ending up among the show’s final three contestants. What has made this season work is that we (the audience) have been given what we really want: the opportunity to watch the nastiness (and the occasional goodness) unfold without any responsibility. We can experience the pleasure of voyeurism without the burden of feeling as if we are in any way responsible for the houseguests’ choices or behavior. By not interacting with their "reality," we are able to clearly distinguish it from our own. Perhaps some viewers felt better last season when they voted for the good guys, but for the majority of us, the audience’s opportunity to participate, instead of just observe in an omniscient way, undermined the show’s promise of any "reality." If the houseguests seemed "uncomfortable," we came to their aid. Don’t want to have messy conversations about race? Fine. The instigator’s gone. Worried about the pretty girl getting in the way of a blossoming romance? No problem. She’s out of there. We weren’t just watching; we were being asked to act as judge and jury. And if our choices were any indication of our readiness to be "interactive viewers," networks were given a wake-up call: Contrary to what it may desire, the public plays it safe. So while last season was all about bonding and houseguests’ interpersonal relationships, now it’s all about power and strategy. CBS seems to have done much to engineer this turn of events. As the houseguests compete for unequal privileges (e.g. the position of Head of Household; the opportunity to be among the group that gets to eat more than just peanut butter and jelly for an entire week; the chance to receive monetary rewards or luxury items; and so on), it’s evident that the show’s producers want them to feel the inequity and, hopefully, act on it. To survive, the houseguests have had to compete against one another, and make difficult decisions about whom to evict and whom to trust. And this time, we’re no longer standing in their way. Those who have stayed the longest are the ones who have been the most manipulative. They have alliance-hopped and strategized at the expense of appearing to be "good" people for the viewers. At times, there’s been so much secret alliance-switching that it’s been hard to keep track of who’s siding with whom and who’s the worst of the traitors. In a matter of weeks, we saw the rise and fall of the three-member "Chill Town" (Mike, Will and Shannon), a clique that seemed very much like a high school "in crowd" as its members defined themselves by their exclusivity, their young-white-and-hip status, and their belief in themselves as the house’s beautiful people. We also saw the formation of "The Untouchables" (Hardy, Monica and Krista), a second-tier, less-"cool" version of "Chill Town," and "The Other People" (Kent, Bunky and others), a group that defined itself by its egalitarian name: It was comprised of houseguests who wouldn’t have made the "Chill Town" cut, or who deliberately chose to support an alliance that followed a more democratic, populist sentiment. As houseguests were evicted, membership in the alliances shifted, or the cliques disbanded entirely. And while all the bickering and intra-house discussion generated by backstabbing got tiresome at times, I — and most of my Big Brother-watching friends — prefer things the way they are now. As this year’s game comes to a close, the houseguests who remain are those who have consistently been the most manipulative and competitive. Similar to Survivor, the already-evicted contestants will pick the winner out of the final two. Whoever walks away with the grand prize of $500,000 will have earned that win, if for no other reason than for generating the best dramatic tension for the longest time. Unlike last year, it’s not going to be an amiable or pretty end. And that’s what we’ve wanted all along. Related Sites |
