Watching NBC’s new reality show “The Biggest Loser” is like
going to a Weight Watchers meeting with a sack of Krispy Kreme donuts in your purse.
There’s something not quite right about it.
The show is entertaining in the voyeuristic tradition of “Survivor”
and “American Idol.” But when the thrills come from rooting for morbidly obese
contestants to cheat on their diets, further endangering their health, it gets painful to
watch.
It’s a disturbing window on just how low reality can go. After watching
one episode you want to take a shower, or perhaps run an hour on the treadmill, then take
a shower.
As reality shows go, the concept is simple, one of the main things the show has
going for it: Twelve people split into two teams compete to drop the most weight, thus
becoming “The Biggest Loser” and winning a $250,000 prize. Along with, one
assumes, those other tangibles like lowering risk of heart disease and developing a new
relationship with their toes.
Each team gets its own trainer and its own diet, and they meet for fat
people-exploitive weekly challenges such as pulling a gas-less race car down a track while
forcing the fatties to pop in and out of the driver’s window.
At the weekly weigh-ins, the teams compete to see who lost more lard. The
losing team gets an additional five pounds added to its total weight loss. The loser of
each week’s weigh-in then has to kick off one of its members.
Basically, this is “Survivor: Burger King.” Caroline Rhea, whose
own battle of the bulge was evident during the early years of “Sabrina, the Teenage
Witch,” hosts the show.
Never mind that these people are trying to get healthy. The notion that
they’re being exploited for their physical problems, rather than just the apparent
mental ones seen on most “Bachelor”-style reality shows, makes this show
repugnant.
But it’s also dogged by a lack of outsized personalities to match the
outsized workout gear. The show’s largest contestant, 436-pound “Overweight
Lover” Maurice, is too reminiscent of “American Idol’s” velvet-voiced
teddy bear Ruben Studdard.
The whiniest member of the crew, Lisa, seems more like that insecure office
gossip whose cubicle is too close to yours than a reality character you can love to hate.
Even the adorable-for-310-pounds Matt, who says at the start of the show that his biggest
fear about dropping weight is that “people will only like me because I’m
cute,” isn’t quite clueless enough to be funny.
Aside from the fact that “Loser” features the six most attractive
overweight females you’ve ever seen, there’s little different or endearing about
this show except how willing it is to toy with its contestants.
When Rhea reveals that each contestant has a refrigerator stocked with all
his or her most forbidden treats located steps away from the bedrooms that they share,
that seems more cruel than compelling. These people will need serious post-game therapy.
Quality of show (on a scale of 10): 5
If there’s such a thing as reality comfort food, this is the equivalent.
There’s conflict, drama and beautiful landscaping at the scenic spot where, in week
one, the two groups combined to lose more than 100 pounds.
But despite our society’s national obsession with weight loss,
there’s little in the show that demands a second look. In fact, the extreme tactics
seem rather worrisome.
As Rhea explains at the start of the show, there will be “no stapling,
sucking or cutting.” All weight loss is achieved through diet and exercise.
Yet it’s difficult to believe a 300-pound man who hasn’t exercised
in years, let alone the 436-pounder, could safely sustain the five-hour workouts these
contestants endure.
Haven’t they ever heard the Weight Watchers credo of losing one to two
pounds a week? Evidently not, as some drop up to 22 pounds in week one. NBC wisely puts a
disclaimer at the end of the show saying doctors have been consulted during every step of
production.
Still, it’s hard not to imagine over-enthusiastic overweight viewers
trying to stage their own “Biggest Loser” in the same way kids tried to recreate
“Jackass” stunts from MTV several years back. The result of that could be just
as bad.
Positioning (on a scale of 10): 8
NBC seems to have been right in its idea to reserve Tuesdays at 8 p.m. for
reality, the recent unsuccessful run of “Last Comic Standing” notwithstanding.
Last week’s 90-minute “Loser” premiere averaged a 4.1 adults
18-49 rating, more than 40 percent better than “Comic” had averaged, to easily
win its time slot.
The show will benefit from the fact that there’s little competition.
ABC’s “My Wife and Kids” and “George Lopez” are lucky to average
a combined 3.5, and CBS’s “NCIS” skews to an older crowd. The WB’s
“Gilmore Girls” has been doing very well, but very well for the WB means a 2.5.
Fox won’t have anything intimidating until the January return of
“American Idol,” and “Loser’s” limited run will be finished by
then.
If tonight’s episode averages another 4.0, don’t be surprised if
“Loser 2” gets okayed for production. But also don’t expect people to stay
interested; the shelf life on these novelty reality shows is short. Cachet, or the “Arrested Development” factor (on a scale of 10): 1
Aside from the fact that the anti-carb movement remains in full swing,
there’s very little to set this show apart from other NBC quickies like “Average
Joe.” Rhea, coming off a failed talk show, can’t be classified higher than
C-lister, and on a network that boasts Sylvester Stallone, Donald Trump and Mark Burnett
on its other reality programs, “Loser” looks like a bit of one.
Overall (on a scale of 30): 14
Those who have the stomach for exploiting the overweight and watching them
pant over forbidden fried chicken will enjoy a blissful nine weeks with Ms. Rhea. The rest
of us, however interesting we may find the concept, will quietly step back from the
disturbing buffet. |
