Dose of Reality   

A Chicago station borrows reality show techniques for news specials

During fall sweeps Fox will unveil a new reality show. Ten oil-and-water souls will stew in a Chicago home for a week. (No, this isn't "The Real World.") They won't have any contact with the outside, and cameras, trained on them day and night, will capture their every burp. (Nope, not "Big Brother," either.) And viewers had a say in narrowing the pack of wannabes to the 10 that made the show. (Sigh, it's not even "American Idol.")

What this is, according to Fox Chicago, is news. News, as in it's produced by reporters and broadcast right on the 9 p.m. news. See? News--and with a purpose, no less. Half the folks stuffed into the house will be gay and the other half straight. So, as Fox says, "The Experiment: Gay and Straight" will be a chance to bridge gaps and to see "the simple differences and/or similarities between gays and straights in the way they talk, walk, act, behave." Fox will cure America's social ills with its favorite tonic--a reality show!

Reporter Mark Saxenmeyer, who conceived the idea, then wrote, produced and hosted it, knows full well the traditional news brigade will scoff themselves silly over this--and he doesn't seem to care. What matters, Saxenmeyer says, is that people actually watch the thing, and maybe even lose a prejudice or two. A reality show, he says, is the bait to lure viewers to the substance.

"I said let's do something that's gonna make people interested," Saxenmeyer says. "I'm the first to admit it's a gimmick.... I say TV news on a local level needs to be stirred up, something to get people thinking."

This is Fox Chicago's second stroll down reality lane. In May 2001 Saxenmeyer convinced the station to do the same exact thing except with a race theme--then it was issue-laden whites and blacks in a house for a week. The result was often depressing, occasionally hilarious, but infinitely watchable--that is, if you enjoy the semi-embarrassing, train-wreck spectacle that fuels shows like "Big Brother." (The Nielsens prove plenty of us do, and prime time isn't big enough for all the publicity hounds eager to mug and bicker before a national audience.)

The first show, "The Experiment in Black and White," was a Greatest Hits homage to reality viewing. The show opened as housemates arrived lugging suitcases--a classic "Real World" shot. The house they were locked into had a "confessional," a room where the guests vent to the camera away from their housemates' prying eyes--a "Big Brother" mainstay. And for a little taste of "Survivor," when housemates weren't suffering producer-inspired "challenges" ("You have 17-and-a-half minutes to figure out what [groceries] you're going to buy [for the week]!") they chewed the fat amongst themselves, displaying textbook everyman-isms ("Everybody, there's four rolls of toilet paper--that's it!").

Despite the medium, it could be argued that lessons could be plucked from the shenanigans. (Like contestant Delores, who learned that "just because they're white don't mean they're all out to get you." Or Jed, who hopefully learned to curb his enthusiasm for saying things like "a couple of blacks are walking to me and I'm like, 'Oh no!' ") Several journalism institutions, including the Radio-Television News Directors Association, thought so, awarding the program some prestigious documentary-oriented honors.

The question remains, however, whether all this is really news. Chicago media critics have doubts.

"It's as if I enlisted somebody to run through downtown Chicago in a chicken suit, then presented it as a news story," the Chicago Tribune's Steve Johnson says. "There are probably more responsible ways to address gay versus straight issues rather than jamming people together and waiting for the fireworks."

And the Chicago Sun-Times' Robert Feder fears that what was worthwhile about the first show might vaporize in Fox's hype for the sequel. Though the first "Experiment" wasn't much advertised, by September cringe-worthy promos seeking housemates for the November program were already in rotation, a broadcast baritone ominously rumbling: "One House...One Week...10 Strangers...." "It has a circus-like, sensational air that makes me uncomfortable," Feder says.

Saxenmeyer shoulders the complaints. "At least we're willing to take some risks," he says. "Why do we all have to do the same thing?"