Zlatko and "reality tv" magyarul
Nobody's Satisfied with Fifteen Minutes Anymore

A 25-year old, Macedonian-born Schwabian - Zlatko Trpkovski - a young man... charitably put, unburdened by wit, talent, good looks or ambition, has, during the course of the past few months, become the biggest Volksheld German-speaking Europe has seen in recent memory. How did such a thing come to pass?

The answer is 'Big Brother', standard-bearer of the latest generation* of 'reality TV' programming to take the world's most advanced consumer societies by storm. Originally a Dutch idea, 'Big Brother' puts a group of people into a common living space for 100 days. This being TV, the people in question are generally young, attractive and/or in some way amusing (Zlatko, for example, is known for saying spectacularly dumb things at regular intervals). They are cut off from the world and observed 24 hours per day by dozens of cameras, from which even the bathroom is no refuge. To add tension to what must certainly, at the pitch stage, have sounded like a bid for some banality grand prix, the inhabitants of the 'Big Brother' prison (for want of a better word) vote every two weeks to expel one of their fellow inmates. In fact, two candidates are chosen by the residents, viewers at home vote on which of them goes (paying for the privilege to do so, it scarcely need be noted). The object of the whole exercise: to be the last one to 'survive' life in the windowless, 150 square metre container sealed behind triple lines of barbed wire, the reward for doing so being 250,000 marks.

Sound interesting? Not really. Well, it was a huge hit in Holland. Okay, they're a bunch of cheeseheads, but the success the show enjoyed there whetted the appetite of TV producers in neighbouring Germany. After all, the costs of producing reality TV are, by definition, low. The costs of producing 'Big Brother' are almost ridiculously low. There's no expensive celebrity host, no writers, the video cameras are installed in a made-for-tv compound and run continuously, the prize money is chump change. They let a live signal play on the internet to pump up the whole 'Truman Show' vibe and heighten the voyeuristic experience, then play the highlights for an hour on TV (RTL II) every night during prime time, with a two-hour 'weekly special' on Sundays.

In other words, RTL II offered the unique opportunity to watch 'ordinary Germans,' live, around-the-clock, eating, sleeping, washing, talking, reading, playing board games, etc., etc. The results: success beyond the producers' wildest dreams. On average, over four million viewers tuned in nightly in Germany alone, on occasion close to eight million (roughly one-tenth of the country's population). Lest it be said this was but another anomaly, the 'Big Brother' franchise was also sold to Spain, where it aired with similarly dominant ratings.

Where does Zlatko come in? The unemployed machinist, whose trump card seems to be his 'lovable,' 'harmless big lug' nature, combined with a steady stream of the aforementioned boners, made it through the selection process for the first 100-day installment of German 'Big Brother,' one of twelve souls 'lucky' enough to be interned from among the thousands who applied. Once inside, his innocent ignorance - most cited example of which included not knowing who Shakespeare was or what a 'heterosexual' is - made him a favourite our audiences at home, who had the double pleasure of enjoying the show's low-brow entertainment while having one of its 'characters' make even the relative simpletons among them feel intellectually superior. In Zlatko's defense, he probably can name several great Macedonian writers (as well as heterosexuals), and a German colleague of mine claims to have seen an episode where he was the only one in the container who could rattle off the capital cities of various countries, proving the man is no dummy. Some interpreted Zlatko's unblinking cluelessness as a key element in his appeal: a refreshing willingness to admit not knowing something in situations where 99% of the voyeurs at home would keep their mouths shut or quickly change the subject. A sufficient constituency in the audience nonetheless found Zlatko ruminations to be just a little too much to bear, and when the residents of 'Big Brother' nominated him as one of two candidates for expulsion only five weeks into the exercise, Zlatko was summarily voted out.

Needless to say, this was not the end of Zlatko. Germany erupted in debate: "How could they?" One of the container's female internees (Manuela?) was apparently instrumental in Zlatko's ouster. Cries for her blood emanated from all parts of the Federal Republic, people interviewed on the street fantasizing about what they would do to her if she were to somehow fall into their hands. Cut off from the world for several weeks, having no idea what a phenomenon 'Big Brother' had become, Zlatko was startled to emerge from the container (situated in a charmless suburb of Cologne) and be greeted by seven thousand fans, helicopters flying overhead, musical groups, etc., all whipped into a fever pitch by the sight of their unsuspecting idol. For once rendered speechless, Zlatko was whisked by his enterprising 'manager' (actually a childhood pal with nothing better going on), Achmed, to a recording studio. Zlatko, it seems, had garnered quite a reputation for singing (badly) in the shower during his stint in the fishbowl, and it was decided an album should be cut.

In the days to follow, Zlatkomania swept across Germany, spilling over into Austria and Switzerland unchecked. Zlatko was interviewed on every talkshow of note, including those of the undisputed kings of German late-night television, Harald Schmidt, Jauch and Raab (the latter three times in one week!), who usually trip over themselves to avoid booking the same guests. All reported hefty ratings jumps the nights Zlatko graced their shows. There was Zlatko again, appearing on every magazine cover that matters: Stern, Spiegel, Focus, Bravo (in "Super-Sladdi" costume, in case there were any doubt).

In the merchandising department, Zlatko-wear (autographed jogging suits for the man who has everything), pens, coffee mugs, mousepads and Zlatko beer flew off the shelves. One week to the day after his abrupt expulsion from 'Big Brother' the show's producers (exercising a contractual option and knowing a golden goose when they saw one) premiered 'Zlatkos Welt' (Zlatko's World), the great man's very own show on RTL II, where hungry viewers could behold 'Sladdi' going shopping, listening to music and meeting people on the street, all naturally starstruck by his presence and keen to repeat his grammatically-impaired signature lines (e.g. "Keine Ahnung" - "Beats me"). Ratings averaged a 10.9% share, topping even with the sensation 'Big Brother' itself, which averaged 9%.

And what about that record? "Ich vermiss Dich... wie die Hölle" ("I miss you... like hell"), a German Schlager-style number without any redeeming qualities whatsoever, such that anyone unaware of the Zlatko cult might scarcely imagine that it could ever have been recorded (let alone enter the charts), debuted at No. 1 in Germany and Austria, selling over a half-million copies in the first week en route to platinum, whipping Britney Spears into a distant second place. Watching the clip one morning on Austrian TV, replete with video images of Zlatko from 'Big Brother' (trimming his nasal and chest hair, etc.) and struggling to hit the high notes in the recording studio, my friend, media expert Szilvia Szilády, was at first rendered speechless, hand over mouth, eyes reflecting the shock and disbelief of watching this lowpoint in occidental cultural history celebrate its fifth straight week at No. 1 in the charts. After a few minutes, the words "It's over, we're finished... who would have ever thought the dictatorship of the proletariat would eventually triumphed like this?," i.e., perverted by capitalist consumerism.

Okay, some will say, this programming is completely devoid of niveau. Still, let's not take ourselves so seriously, it's good for a laugh... That it may be, but who will laugh last? The spectacular success of 'Big Brother' has certainly not gone unnoticed in the commercial media and advertising industries. Sat1, RTL's main rival in the German commercial TV competition for advertising marks, is responding with "Insell-Duell," a show which has run successfully in other countries, particularly in Scandavia. The concept is based on putting a group of 'regular' people onto a tropical island, where they have to "fend for themselves" and participate in various physical tests and challenges. Much like 'Big Brother' (Endemol, the Dutch producers and license-holders of which recently fended off a lawsuit from the British company - part-owned by 'Live Aid' bleeding heart Bob Geldof *- responsible for the island show), "Insell-Duell," or "Survivor" as it is known in English-speaking territories, has the contestants vote periodically on which of their fellows should leave, and has the 'last man standing' walk off with a 'large' cash prize. And, like 'Big Brother,' it's a phenomenal success.

Further copycats have sprung up in Germany and elsewhere, many offering real-time internet broadcast of surveillance cameras as an added measure of the audience's control over the caged "lab rats" racing for the "cheese," which is, as we all know, for us humans none other than cold hard cash. Two Endemol shows which have been sold to German producers incorporate slight variations on the 'Big Brother' and 'Survivor' formats. 'Touristenclass' sends complete (and preferably fully incompatible) strangers on 'vacation' together, observing them non-stop as they are deal with situations - real and designed - guaranteed to have them at each other's throats. 'Dschungel-Fieber' ('Jungle Fever') has contestants o fight their way through the jungle, placing various obstacles in their path and incorporating punishments for failure, including denial of food. Similarly, a Canadian show called 'Pioneer Quest,' puts couples into prairie homesteads with no running water, electricity or modern conveniences, observing them as they attempt to make their way living as nineteenth century pioneers did, farming their own food, raising livestock and coping with the bitter Western Canadian winter. The obligatory pot of cash awaits those who survive these hardships for a full year (!) without 'cracking.' More than a thousand couples applied.
Hungary seems destined, as usual, to follow course, albeit with the obligatory delay. The cautious pioneer effort, "Foursome in a car for a fortnight," is already a reality... bigger and better examples of the "confinement" ilk doubtless 'coming soon.'

Meanwhile, 'Big Brother' recently sold to U.S. network CBS for 20 million dollars. The American version starts in July. One Endemol manager was quoted in Der Spiegel as saying "If the show gets the ratings over there, a new era in television will have begun." In fact, the era has almost certainly already begun: experiments with 'ordinary' human beings under non-stop observation as prime time entertainment.

sCBS, struggling to find inroads into younger demographic groups, has already served notice it will be casting its lot with the 'observed confinement' format in order to do so. "Survivor" has shown it can emulate its European success in America, especially among the golden 18-34 and 18-49 year old categories. Reuters reported that the show's rating for these groups in its opening weeks on CBS were "the best the network had scored for any program in seven years." Little wonder that network executives and advertisers are licking their chops over record profit-margins and newfound viewers in the most elusive age groups, continuing a trend begun with the breakthough success of "Who wants to be a millionaire?" That show, from the previous generation of reality programming (and, like "Survivor," a British export) is now an audience champion in dozens of countries, including Hungary, considered responsible by many producers of dramatic programming for the fact that the American networks have virtually stopped buying fictional shows, and hardly any will be premiering on American TV in the coming year.

The smart money is on reality TV. If an American Zlatko can emerge, get even more people talking about it, sell a pile of merchandise and generate spin-off shows in the process, the revolution might just be complete.

-Dylan Gray-

* "latest generation" - MTV's 'The Real World' (premiering in 1991) was a popular and much-discussed pioneer of multi-camera observation, albeit a rather more humane one: 'Real Worlders' could leave the flat at will (even staying out all night if they wished), the bathroom was off-limits to cameras, and, most importantly, they were neither competing against each other for a cash prize, nor voting to expel each other. ( back)

** 'Live Aid' bleeding heart Bob Geldof - "Live Aid" was a famous benefit concert in '85 featuring all the biggest pop & rock groups in concert and with an album to raise money for the drought victims in Africa. Geldof organized the whole thing (he's the ex-lead singer of the Boomtown Rats, best known for "I don't like Mondays" ca. 1978) ( back)