You’re a small private television broadcaster struggling to make ends meet, in an economy that can’t support even one major profitable television station.
    You have to stand out to survive, and that’s a tall order in a country that’s sped from Communism to the Marlboro Man in just the past 10 years.
     M1, a UHF broadcaster that reaches about 60 percent of the city of Moscow and the Moscow region, is trying to rise above the American made-for-TV movie schlock and the D-grade programming that dominates Russian television.
   It is doing so by turning on their ear two traditions of Western television: the evening news broadcast and the talk show.
    In a country whose news outlets have never been known for the whole truth, or even part of it, M1 initially won the eyeballs of Muscovites with "Golaya Pravda" (The Naked Truth), on which a comely newscaster disrobes as she reads the evening news.
    M1's latest innovation is a talk show hosted by a chimpanzee.
    "The Naked Truth" at first glance appears to be little more than another news program, save for the newscaster, a devastatingly attractive actress named Svetlana Pesotskaya. 
    Svetlana is considerably more eye-catching than the  saggy middle-aged nonentities that populate other Russian news programs. Why she was chosen soon becomes apparent.
    After the top news, which usually includes a piece on the latest activities of Russian President Vladimir Putin or the latest on the war in Chechnya, the flavor changes a bit. 
   Sitting at her newscaster desk, Svetlana starts to undress, slowly and seductively, while continuing to work her way through news. She shrugs out of a sweater or blazer, undoes a few of the top buttons of her shirt, and pauses to give the viewer a long, hard look.
    If you’re channel surfing and you’ve never heard of "Golaya Pravda," your jaw by now is on the floor.
   After a few more news items, the skirt falls to the wayside and Svetlana peels off her stockings, again without missing a syllable. 
   By the time the latest exploits of Russian sports teams hit the screen, Svetlana is in the buff, with her arms crossed in front of her, and hands clamped over her breasts.
    Not surprisingly, Svetlana – and M1 – don’t disappoint with routine. On one highly memorable broadcast, Svetlana was interviewing a member of Duma, Russia’s house of representatives,  in the television studio. 
    As Svetlana began to strip, the elected official, not to be outdone, gamely mimicked Svetlana, yanking off his tie and shimmying out of his shirt.
   He did so without losing a beat in a monologue about the agricultural credits in the 2001 draft federal budget.
   On another broadcast, an off-screen dog tugged at Svetlana’s garments, leaving her wearing only a lacy white bra.
    Ah, but now time for the weather. Out marches the weatherwoman. She stalks onto the screen clad only in panties and stockings.
   She doesn't read the weather so much as murmur it. As she runs through the names of different cities in Russia, pointing to the anticipated temperature (presumably by that time much cooler than that of the living rooms of most viewers), she runs her hands softly over her body .
    Svetlana and the weatherwoman are hardly the only staffers who appear undressed.
   A reporter sporting a wig, glasses, a very serious face, and nothing else recently interviewed the head of a key political faction in his office. 
   The poor gentleman made a valiant effort to avert his eyes from the bare breasts of his interviewer, facing the camera directly and never even glancing toward her – at least while on screen.
    More recently, M1 followed up its "Naked News" success by launching a talk show featuring – go figure – a witty, sophisticated host who boasts a flashy white smile and an impeccable wardrobe.
     One woman politician who appeared on the M1 show describes the host, who boasts the impressively suave name of Johnny de Palma, as "the man of my dreams, with the body of Schwarzenegger, the intellect of Einstein, and the dignity of Don Quixote."
   Thing is, though, Mr. de Palma isn’t from the species you might expect. 
    He’s a chimp who "speaks" through the voice of an actor. In order to create the impression that the chimp is talking, Johnny is shot at a range of angles over the course of several hours. Footage is then cobbled together according to narrative requirements. 
    Thus far Johnny has had no problem in drawing a range of high-caliber guests, who don’t seem to be deterred by the prospect of the host needing a banana break.
    Will M1’s foray into creative television work?
     It seems like it has little to lose. And it may even teach its developed-world brethren a thing or two.
    Dan Rather baring all during the 7 p.m. news? 
   Perhaps, on second thought, this particular Russian media product would best not be exported.

-Kim Iskyan is a securities analyst and writer living in Moscow.

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