Post by Teddy Bear on Sept 24, 2007 18:22:59 GMT
An article in today's Telegraph highlights the declining quality of true talent in today's entertainment field, and TV's answer to present something instead to fill the time.
Blame phoney TV, not phone-in votes
By Jim White
Last Updated: 12:01am BST 24/09/2007
Being wise folk, you probably have better things to do with your time. Me, though, I spent much of Saturday evening gazing with disbelief at my television screen.
I was watching a programme called The World's Greatest Elvis. Fronted by a forced grin in a white suit by the name of Vernon Kaye, this was billed as an attempt to find the definitive Elvis Presley impersonator.
There are those who might suggest that the programme was a little tardy in its search, given that the finest exponent of the art died on his throne 30 years ago (after all, the King had descended into self-parody long before he died).
Still, there were dozens of them up there crooning, representing all ages of the man, from swivel-hipped teen to swelled-hipped middle age. Kaye used the collective noun Elvi to describe them, though watching the contestants in action, failing to swivel in time, or missing the high notes, or looking shifty in their jailhouse stripes, most of us could have thought of a more appropriate term. For several of them, the only way they resembled the man was in the difficulty they faced in corralling their waistlines within the confines of their jumpsuits.
At the end of it, as the Elvi gathered on stage for a final sing-off of My Way, the decision was made. Five lookalikes were picked by a panel of judges to progress to next week's final. The rest were invited to leave the building.
A couple of months ago, it would have not been done like that. Back then the decision as to whether it was the busking Elvis from north London or the plumber from Milwaukee who most embodied the King, would have been left to a phone-in vote.
The premium rate lines would have been left open as we watched Casualty, and the Elvi would have convened an hour later for a catch-up to reveal who had most shook up the great British public, or at least that part of the great British public dumb enough to waste a couple of quid. But then such plebiscites were revealed to be endlessly corruptible and British broadcasters engaged in a public bout of self-flagellation to rid themselves of the concept.
Watching the Elvi in action, however, it became clear that the executives missed the point here; the Blue Peter baby was chucked out with the bathwater. The major problem is not phone-in votes coming up with the wrong answer or viewers being duped into thinking that they have contributed to a decision making process when the winner was picked by the producer long before they put finger to dial.
No, the problem is the rubbish content of the shows themselves. They may have voted off the phone-in, but, as The World's Greatest Elvis proved, the endless parade of dire talent shows that is modern television entertainment rumbles on. If they are not searching for an Elvis, they are looking for a Joseph. If they're not skating, they're dancing. And all of it, in terms of real talent, is barely sub-literate.
In China, a country where public votes are not a factor, X or otherwise, the television authorities seem to have spotted the real issue here. In Beijing, the state has just decreed that the growing fashion for talent shows is to be stopped; opportunity will no longer knock for Cantonese Elvi. The whole concept, the authorities reckon, is awash with "vulgar problems concerning the design, judges and performance of the contestants, which have damaged the media image and cause strong reactions from viewers".
The Chinese censors worry that western fashions and hairstyles on display in such programmes are corrupting the nation. A little alarmist, perhaps. But they are right to see this as being about culture, not voting. In their way the British versions are as demeaning of ours as the Chinese are of theirs.
Take a snapshot of mainstream television entertainment in Britain in 2007 and you would assume ours is a popular culture that is merely a faded reproduction of its own past. The World's Greatest Elvis is but the latest example.
In their entire lifespan, there has never been a single original thought, idea or performance in any of these talent shows. Those who succeed do so by imitating the past more skilfully than their rivals. Even those who have managed to parlay a career out of shows like these are not innovators or originals. They are just copies of what has gone before, never the real thing.
And if Gordon Brown unleashes his own version of the public vote upon us this week, it will become clear that the contagion has spread beyond television. Even when it comes to making the important choices in life, we now live in a world of impersonators.
By Jim White
Last Updated: 12:01am BST 24/09/2007
Being wise folk, you probably have better things to do with your time. Me, though, I spent much of Saturday evening gazing with disbelief at my television screen.
I was watching a programme called The World's Greatest Elvis. Fronted by a forced grin in a white suit by the name of Vernon Kaye, this was billed as an attempt to find the definitive Elvis Presley impersonator.
There are those who might suggest that the programme was a little tardy in its search, given that the finest exponent of the art died on his throne 30 years ago (after all, the King had descended into self-parody long before he died).
Still, there were dozens of them up there crooning, representing all ages of the man, from swivel-hipped teen to swelled-hipped middle age. Kaye used the collective noun Elvi to describe them, though watching the contestants in action, failing to swivel in time, or missing the high notes, or looking shifty in their jailhouse stripes, most of us could have thought of a more appropriate term. For several of them, the only way they resembled the man was in the difficulty they faced in corralling their waistlines within the confines of their jumpsuits.
At the end of it, as the Elvi gathered on stage for a final sing-off of My Way, the decision was made. Five lookalikes were picked by a panel of judges to progress to next week's final. The rest were invited to leave the building.
A couple of months ago, it would have not been done like that. Back then the decision as to whether it was the busking Elvis from north London or the plumber from Milwaukee who most embodied the King, would have been left to a phone-in vote.
The premium rate lines would have been left open as we watched Casualty, and the Elvi would have convened an hour later for a catch-up to reveal who had most shook up the great British public, or at least that part of the great British public dumb enough to waste a couple of quid. But then such plebiscites were revealed to be endlessly corruptible and British broadcasters engaged in a public bout of self-flagellation to rid themselves of the concept.
Watching the Elvi in action, however, it became clear that the executives missed the point here; the Blue Peter baby was chucked out with the bathwater. The major problem is not phone-in votes coming up with the wrong answer or viewers being duped into thinking that they have contributed to a decision making process when the winner was picked by the producer long before they put finger to dial.
No, the problem is the rubbish content of the shows themselves. They may have voted off the phone-in, but, as The World's Greatest Elvis proved, the endless parade of dire talent shows that is modern television entertainment rumbles on. If they are not searching for an Elvis, they are looking for a Joseph. If they're not skating, they're dancing. And all of it, in terms of real talent, is barely sub-literate.
In China, a country where public votes are not a factor, X or otherwise, the television authorities seem to have spotted the real issue here. In Beijing, the state has just decreed that the growing fashion for talent shows is to be stopped; opportunity will no longer knock for Cantonese Elvi. The whole concept, the authorities reckon, is awash with "vulgar problems concerning the design, judges and performance of the contestants, which have damaged the media image and cause strong reactions from viewers".
The Chinese censors worry that western fashions and hairstyles on display in such programmes are corrupting the nation. A little alarmist, perhaps. But they are right to see this as being about culture, not voting. In their way the British versions are as demeaning of ours as the Chinese are of theirs.
Take a snapshot of mainstream television entertainment in Britain in 2007 and you would assume ours is a popular culture that is merely a faded reproduction of its own past. The World's Greatest Elvis is but the latest example.
In their entire lifespan, there has never been a single original thought, idea or performance in any of these talent shows. Those who succeed do so by imitating the past more skilfully than their rivals. Even those who have managed to parlay a career out of shows like these are not innovators or originals. They are just copies of what has gone before, never the real thing.
And if Gordon Brown unleashes his own version of the public vote upon us this week, it will become clear that the contagion has spread beyond television. Even when it comes to making the important choices in life, we now live in a world of impersonators.