Ultimately, though, it's not the basic format of the traditional sitcom or drama that's to blame, it's the lack of original, high-quality writing. By now everyone knows that HBO, a channel not poisoned by the copycat mentality of the networks, is behind most of the best shows on television. Many producers and writers report that quality scripts and ideas are out there, but the networks aren't necessarily looking for quality. What seems familiar about those wisecracking characters on their couches isn't the setting or the format, it's the mediocre jokes and story lines that simply mimic the story lines of other better -- but not necessarily great -- shows. Sadly, as the networks continue the impossible search for guaranteed hits and sure things, they limit their scope to the sorts of shows that have succeeded before instead of seeking original voices with something to say. This is why we'll end up watching soggy star vehicles like John Goodman's "Center of the Universe" and Jason Alexander's "Listen Up" (It worked with Charlie Sheen, right?) this fall instead of encountering truly original comedies with fresh, surprising characters.
Will we be watching? The truth is, the best reality shows feature exactly the kinds of fresh, surprising characters that most sitcoms and dramas lack. For those who care about the quality of reality shows they produce, the bar has been set very high by Mark Burnett. At a time when reality TV appeared to be shackled to the somewhat shallow teenage-bitch-slap tradition of "The Real World," Burnett insisted on bringing the same intelligent editing and beautiful cinematography to "Survivor" that he brought to "Eco Challenge." He recognized that, beyond painstakingly careful casting and crafting of dramatically compelling story lines, viewers would want to get a real feel for the show's exotic setting. As fleeting as those aerial and wildlife shots can seem, they add an inestimable dimension to the viewer's experience. Anyone who watched the first few episodes of "Survivor" knew that the show was bound to be a hit, and the reason for that had more to do with sparkling shots of cornflower-blue water than it had to do with Richard Hatch (although having a naked, backstabbing provocateur around certainly helped).
If reality offerings were limited to claustrophobic, repetitive, aesthetically irritating shows like "Elimidate" or "The Bachelor," it would be easy to write off the entire genre as the work of sensationalistic producers churning out trash for a quick buck. Instead, a few sharp producers like Burnett saw the enormous potential of the form and approached it with a passion, creating a vicarious experience for the viewer. They recognized that reality TV could truly engage audiences, pulling them into a time and place, populated by real human beings. As long as the cast and the settings were a little larger than life, as long as the stories were edited to make the viewer feel like a personal confidante to each of the competitors, audiences would find themselves swept into the action, investing far more of their emotions in the competition than they imagined was possible.
"The Amazing Race" followed in the footsteps of "Survivor" in terms of quality, but conquered the most difficult production challenges imaginable. Ten teams of two scamper across the globe, racing to complete various tasks, but you never, ever spot a single camera, not when several teams are running across a beach to the finish line, not when they're hang gliding or walking teams of dogs or eating two pounds of Russian caviar. Produced by Jerry Bruckheimer and edited with so many suspense-inducing tricks it's impossible not to get caught up in the action, "The Amazing Race" took Burnett's high standards of human drama and visual appeal and built on them. Lumping together an intensely difficult, expensive, painstakingly produced show like "The Amazing Race" with meandering, silly shows like "The Ultimate Love Test" is an insult to the sharp, talented people who seem to set the bar higher each season.
Of course, meandering, silly shows have a certain charm of their own. Fox's "Paradise Hotel" stumbled on accidental genius with its hyperaggressive cast of frat boys and neurotics. Originally intended as a sleazy dating show where those guests who didn't "hook up" would get thrown out of Paradise "forever!" as the voice-over put it, "Paradise Hotel" evolved into a nasty battle between two cliques, with the producers scrambling to mold their "twists" and promos to fit the bizarre clashes arising on the set. There's something to be said for a show that evolves based on the strange behavior of its cast, thanks mostly to the fact that its cast is made up of belligerent drunks. Sadly, "Paradise Hotel's" success was purely accidental. The producers foolishly moved the show away from its original location, a gorgeous Mexican resort with brilliant white walls that lit every scene beautifully, making all of the inhabitants appear larger than life. They renamed the show, cast it with bland, empty-headed Neanderthals, added an even-more-awful host and some pointless twists, and the magic was over. The ironically titled "Forever Eden" was canceled before the season ended.