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| Celebs leading X Factor a merry dance |
| Written by Administrator | |
| Thursday, 06 December 2007 | |
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IT should have had niche appeal, with only grannies and fashion students with a taste for the kitsch tuning in. Instead it's achieved the holy grail of mass, cross-generation drawing power. 'Strictly Come Dancing' has given the BBC back its Saturday night crown; as an added bonus, it's dented Simon Cowell's ego by trouncing 'The X Factor'. For that alone, I salute it. But who'd have dreamed a show featuring complicated dance steps, packaged with a profusion of fairy lights and glitter balls, would mesmerise viewers? It can't be down to the costumes alone, although I suspect some of us tune in for wardrobe malfunctions. They can only be a matter of time, with all those lifts the dancers do. So much bling, so little actual material -- the Beeb must have bought a job lot of Cher's old stage outfits. To put the popularity of 'Strictly Come Dancing' in context, its finale last December attracted 12 million viewers -- three times the population of the Irish Republic. Nobody mention the Ryder Cup here, it's unseemly. All right, I can't help myself: an audience of just six million for the whole of Ireland, Britain and the US. Maybe sequins should have been stitched onto the Pringle jumpers. I've been cudgelling my brain to decode the success of 'Strictly Come Dancing' -- beats trying to analyse that raft of figures in the Budget. Anyway, I see it as the next evolutionary stage in the digital spy format, a cut above the glut of reality-meets-talent-meets-Roman-circus shows cluttering up the schedules. It accepts both the escapism and entertainment imperatives, but is more sophisticated than locking up an assortment of strangers and watching them drive one another round the bend or try to sleep with each other. Crucially, an element of talent is needed to succeed in 'Strictly Come Dancing'. I see no evidence of skill in Bush Tucker Trials, other than the ability to eat grubs without throwing up. 'Strictly Come Dancing' also plays on nostalgia, and on women's love of frocks. We're hardwired to coo over anything sparkly. (That's a useful tip for male readers floundering about what to buy their ladies for Christmas.) But talent alone isn't enough to keep contestants in the running. Nor is being married to someone famous, as Rod Stewart's wife Penny discovered. Talent aside, it's down to likeability. The public reacts instinctively against anyone too clever or too arrogant; we prefer people we can identify with -- even if, in truth, they are enormously successful and wealthy and have little in common with us. 'Strictly Come Dancing' has beefed up its audience participation, cleverly allowing us to champion the underdog -- and the harder the judges hammer this scapegoat, the closer we gather them to our hearts. Of course, the underdog has to improve, after a shaky start -- as Irish-born Kyran Bracken did in the spin-off 'Dancing On Ice'. And if that doesn't materialise, viewers lose interest. We're expecting the triumph over adversity parable, not someone with two left feet continuing to clomp about with two left feet. As the sympathy vote eventually dwindles, we start enjoying the judges' jibes rather than feeling indignant: my favourite was Scottish rugby star Kenny Logan being told he had the grace of a vacuum cleaner. 'Strictly Come Dancing' should be mandatory watching for anyone with a burning urge to succeed in life. To win it, a contestant must understand the general distaste for trying too hard and wanting something too much. Contenders can't admit how they long to triumph -- they have to be saucer-eyed, grateful and above all humble. Nobody likes a cocky contestant, no matter how able. Kenny's wife, BBC sports commentator Gabby Logan, learned that to her cost. She was booted off after showing how annoyed and cheated she felt by her low scores. On the other hand, we enjoy anyone with a sense of humour. GMTV's Kate Garraway kept being saved by viewers, despite dancing like a plank of wood, because she greeted a relentless barrage of criticism with quips. As when she begged to be left in the competition, saying: "I just want my husband to finally find me sexy." If a show is successful and has an easily adapted format, it will inevitably pop up elsewhere. 'Strictly Come Dancing' has already made its way Stateside, and we have our own "homage" in 'Celebrity Jigs 'n' Reels'. This was a brave attempt at local re-branding, but it's time to hang up the Irish dancing pumps and roll out the spangles. Let's see, we can watch moody, sensual dances -- or a bit of jiggery pokery. No contest. I'm considering running a competition for the best Irish Strictly Come Dancing line-up. So far, these challengers have made it onto my list: l Roy Keane because I'd pay money to see him master the Cha Cha Cha. l Michael O'Leary, to hear him suggest the judging panel was overstaffed, and propose extended ad breaks. l Graham Norton, because nobody could carry off marabou feathers with his aplomb. l Cecelia Ahern, because I suspect she's a good dancer -- we do need some footwork talent. l Enya because we know next to nothing about her and it's time to crack the enigma. If it ever happens, all they need to remember is that in Reality TV Land the race is not to the swift. It's to the most likeable. If only real life were more like a talent show. Source |
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