Source : Globe & Mail

CBC gets hip to the reality trend just when you thought it might be fading, ALEXANDRA GILL writes

VANCOUVER -- In the beginning, there was the Great Canadian Music Dream, CBC Television's somnolently earnest excuse for a talent-search contest, in which a banjo-strumming rock 'n' roots band sallied past a string quartet during last winter's six-part quest for their very own broadcast special.

Then came The Making of a Political Animal. Billed as an "Amazing Race . . . for 24 Sussex Drive," this uniquely Canadian twist on the reality-program genre followed the rise of Rick Loewen, a scruffy unemployed radio talk-show host from Landmark, Man., as he was groomed and packaged on Disclosure's season launch last month, in preparation for his landslide phone-in victory as virtual prime minister.

Now get ready for Raging Hormones. In this three-part special coming to CBC Newsworld in March, Mag "ToolGirl" Ruffman drills to the core of several dysfunctional families with screwed-up teens. Stay tuned also for Past Lives, another three-part series that takes viewers on a soul journey into hypnosis, as a group of 30-odd volunteers get in touch with their inner 12th-century farmer to discover the healing power of past-life regression therapy.

And if CBC Television is lucky, the network might even score the broadcast rights to Making the Cut, an independently produced, Vancouver-based series under development, in which the losing contestants get tossed from a hockey training camp. Several Canadian broadcasters have apparently expressed interest.

Just when you thought the reality-TV phenomenon had sucked its last breath and was finally wheezing into the final stretch, CBC Television has suddenly tied up its laces and leapt into the game. Canada's public broadcaster currently has as many as 15 new reality ideas in development, according to Slawko Klymkiw, executive director of network programming. And while only a handful of those are expected to reach the screen, it appears that Canadian Idol is going to be facing some stiff competition.

And this is just the beginning. Somewhere deep within the CBC-TV bunkers, the mysterious Current Affairs Redevelopment Group is looking at various ways of incorporating new reality-type ideas into all sorts of programming across the board.

"We don't actually use the term 'reality' television," says Klymkiw. He prefers to call it constructive observational documentary, or counterintuitive programming.

"The CBC is always accused of being staid. We're trying to do something different," says Klymkiw, explaining how he was convinced of the genre's merits after watching Wife Swap, a popular reality show on Britain's Channel 4.

"When you first hear about it, you think 'Oh my god, what is this about?' Really, it's about trading places and examining the force of class dynamics in British society. It's fascinating TV, very interesting sociologically, and something the public can really be drawn into. In days past, they might do a documentary on the structures of lower, middle and upper-class families. Now they've taken an old observational technique and built around it, while attracting huge viewership."

Klymkiw points to Disclosure's The Making of a Political Animal as a successful example of how an existing CBC program can draw from reality programming to experiment with these new "counterintuitive" techniques that go beyond mere observation.

For the newsmagazine's Nov. 11 season opener, the show followed three Canadians as they launched fictional campaigns to become the country's next leader. The selected candidates, drawn from hundreds of audition tapes, spent seven days with professional campaign managers, media advisors and stylists, as they prepared for a staged public debate and faux phone-in election.

"We wanted people to get an intimate sense of what it really took to become a politician -- the marketing, political and social skills needed," says Klymkiw. "In the past, we might follow three politicians around as much as we could. It would be slightly one-dimensional and something people have seen many times.

"Politics is the lifeblood of our democracy," he continues. "But it's not something everyone finds interesting. I thought this was a bold and daring and important experiment. I'm happy we did it."

The Making of a Political Animal was the brainchild of Disclosure's executive producer Jim Williamson. But the so-called Current Affairs Redevelopment Group is now looking at various ways of staging similar events in other programs.

The group is essentially just one person. Pia Marquard, a Danish-born, globe-trotting TV guru, has spent the last year brainstorming with producers in other units, and independents as well. Although most North Americans have probably never heard of Marquard, some might say she's responsible for spawning the whole reality genre.

Back in the late-nineties, when the Danish-born producer was then head of the entertainment division at Sweden's national broadcaster, Sveriges, it was she who gave the green light to a revolutionary new show called Expedition Robinson. Conceived by Planet 24, the British production company founded by rock musician Bob Geldof, the Robinson Crusoe-styled series marooned 16 Swedes on a deserted island and let them fend for themselves as the cameras rolled.

Yes, it was the original Survivor. Long before CBS executives stormed their emaciated teams of cunning Tribal Councils through Africa, Thailand, Australia and Malaysia, the Swedes were hooked on this slightly less cutthroat version. So popular was Expedition Robinson when it first aired in 1997, the streets of Stockholm were deserted on the night of the final episode.

Not everyone was enamoured with the castaway concept, especially after it was discovered that Sinisa Savija, one of the contestants who was banished early, went on to commit suicide by jumping in front of a train. Newspaper articles accused Marquard of being a fascist, and she even received bomb threats at her house. The day after the finale aired, Marquard quit her job and fled to Whitehorse, where she ended up running the local CBC station.

Marquard is not willing to discuss her pioneering role in the TV sensation she has wrought. Nor is she ready to explain how she plans to turn the much-maligned reality genre into something more sophisticated for CBC.

"She's working on a whole bunch of potential series and scripts," says Klymkiw. "Before we reveal all this stuff to somebody, we actually wouldn't mind deciding what we're going to do."

But when pushed on the subject of why neither Marquard, nor any of the other producers working on the new reality-type programs are willing to talk, Klymkiw gets defensive.

"This is not about Pia," he snaps. "She has done hundreds of things with the CBC," he adds, pointing out that it was she who oversaw the network's whole slew of 50th-anniversary specials last year.

"This has nothing to do with one show she did years ago. I didn't even know about that until -- I don't know when. To draw one connection to her and that one show is spurious, quite frankly. And to draw some conclusion that this is simply reality TV is simply not true."

The real objective, says Klymkiw, is to stimulate dialogues, unleash the creative muse, find out what ideas are on the street and create exciting new programming, while sticking to CBC's traditional mandate. Klymkiw says CBC-TV has to accept that the broadcast landscape is drastically different than 10 years ago. "We have to find interesting ways of welcoming people into programming."

Vince Carlin, now chairman of Ryerson University's School of Journalism and the former head of news for CBC Newsworld, applauds Klymkiw's efforts. "The CBC should be the proving ground for innovative programming. I'd hate to see them doing one of those reality shows which merely pander to viewers, but it's great to see them doing interesting, entertaining, or even, occasionally silly programs which are unique."

There are others, however, who wonder why the old model needs fixing. To Patrick Watson, a former chairman of the CBC, the idea of rigging documentary programming is about as sacrilegious as some Christians find CTV's plan to broadcast the World Idol smackdown competition on Christmas Day.

"What happened to the old criteria of truth, authenticity and all those things?" Watson asks.

"My big fear is that this is just an opportunity for directors to show how clever they are."

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