In our self-conscious, media-savvy culture, such posturing and preening are a worthy subject for the camera's gaze, documenting as they do the flavor of the times. When young kids talk about marketing themselves properly and "breaking wide," it makes perfect sense to shine a light on the rampant self-consciousness and unrelenting self-involvement of these characters. When we see Puck of "The Real World" screeching at the top of his lungs or Richard Hatch of "Survivor" confiding to the cameras that he considers the other players beneath him, we may be glimpsing behavior that's more true of the average American than any of us would like to believe.

But then, no matter how premeditated many of the words and actions of reality show stars can be, the proper events and tasks eventually conspire to create cracks in the shiny veneer, revealing flaws and personality tics they'd clearly wish to hide. If even the smooth operators of "The Apprentice" stumble on their words, bare their claws and show their less polished selves regularly, you have to figure that keeping your true self hidden from the camera is more difficult than it looks. Katrina, for example, started the first season appearing smooth and polished, then slowly unraveled as the personalities and tactics of the players around her seemed to erode her sense of self. And who can forget Rupert on "Survivor," who went from lovable teddy bear to snarling grizzly whenever someone crossed him? Real people are surprising. The process of getting to know the characters, of discovering the qualities and flaws that define them, and then discussing these discoveries with other viewers creates a simulation of community that most people don't finding in their everyday lives. That may be a sad commentary on the way we're living, but it's not the fault of these shows, which unearth a heartfelt desire to make connections with other human beings. Better that we rediscover our interest in other, real people than sink ourselves into the mirage of untouchable celebrity culture or into some überhuman, ultraclever fictional "Friends" universe.

Naturally, there will always be those shows that heedlessly propagate crass televised stunts without any socially redeeming qualities. "The Swan," which turns normal, attractive women into hideous plasticized demons with lots of pricey plastic surgery, then pits the demons against each other in a beauty contest, is more freakishly dehumanizing than anything George Orwell could've dreamed up. "Gana La Verde," a "Fear Factor"-style competition where immigrants compete for a green card, or at least for the use of lawyers who might win them a green card, makes you wonder if we're not one step away from feeding the underprivileged to the lions on live TV. But the lowest rung on the reality ladder has nothing to do with the sharp, fascinating shows at the top. The best reality shows transform ordinary places and people into dramatic settings populated by lovable heroes and loathsome enemies, and in the process of watching and taking sides and comparing the characters' choices to the ones we might make, we're reacquainted with ourselves and each other. Great fictional TV has the power to engage us, too, but the networks aren't creating much of that these days. When was the last time "CSI" sparked a little self-examination? Does "Still Standing" make you giggle in recognition at life's merry foibles?

Lowbrow or not, all most of us want from TV is the chance to glimpse something true, just a peek at those strange little tics and endearing flaws that make us human. While the networks' safe little formulas mostly seem devoid of such charms, reality shows have the power to amuse, anger, appall, surprise, but most of all, engage us. Isn't that the definition of entertainment?

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