Smile, You’re in ‘Assisted Reality’

An occasional bit on David Letterman’s late-night show called “Brush With Greatness” featured audience members describing a celebrity encounter. After finishing, the storyteller would read a “writers’ embellishment,” in which Letterman’s staff concocted a fantastic comedic kicker for the tale.

The underlying message was reality can always benefit from a little creative license, which may point the way toward the next wrinkle in so-called unscripted television, as the image of “Survivor”-like ratings dances in programming executives’ heads like the hippos in “Fantasia.”

The airwaves have become saturated with alternative formats as programmers race to keep pace, fearing this week’s Entertainment Weekly cover topic will be next fall’s Hula-Hoop. Given the haste in which media comets cool, even “Survivor” is starting to feel institutionalized, a fixed part of the prime-time landscape.

As a result, a phrase you may start hearing is “assisted reality,” not to be confused (though such a mistake would be understandable) with “assisted suicide.”

Brian Graden has begun using the term, which is noteworthy. Graden is president of programming at MTV, which has stood at the forefront of the genre with “The Real World” and “Road Rules.” In that capacity, he faces the unenviable task of identifying the next permutation needed to capture the ever-changing fancy of fickle teenagers.

“You never know where everything’s going, but as MTV you try to stay ahead of things,” said Graden, whose contributions to the cultural zeitgeist include ordering the video Christmas card that ultimately became “South Park” and birthing the bizarre stunt show “Jackass,” MTV’s most watched series. (Mike Darnell, executive vice president of specials at Fox, possesses his own gift for spotting programming waves, though his mutations, like those in 1950s sci-fi movies, occasionally turn on their creators or, in a 21st century twist, sue them.)

As old in theory as Allen Funt’s “Candid Camera,” the term “assisted reality” offers license to do pretty much anything while acknowledging what has been obvious all along--that these programs, despite professing otherwise, tamper with reality to deliver compelling story lines.

“The audience fully realizes there’s manipulation. The audience fully realizes there are TV producers in control,” Graden noted, adding in regard to Fox’s “Temptation Island,” “Is there anyone alive who doesn’t think those dates were highly manipulated, that those situations weren’t contrived?”

Some employed by these shows, in fact, have complained about the “unscripted” designation, saying such projects are in their own way as heavily scripted as other types of television, with the people formulating scenarios and bits of dialogue receiving producer titles to skirt Writers Guild of America guidelines. While no one will confuse the work done with “The West Wing,” being forthcoming about the directional role producers play would address accusations of misleading viewers--conceding, in essence, that it’s all just fabricated entertainment.

Such admissions might have preempted litigation related to the first “Survivor” and “Temptation Island” and mitigated revelations that dogged “Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire?” and “Big Brother,” where the efforts to spur conflict prompted a near-revolt by the housebound contestants.

Game-rigging charges are at the heart of “Survivor” contestant Stacey Stillman’s lawsuit, which Peter Lance, author of “The Stingray: Lethal Tactics of the Sole Survivor,” continues to probe--last week filing a motion to unseal documents related to the case in search of a smoking gun amid the doused torches.

Lance insists he’s not motivated by an ax to grind against CBS, which scuttled his deal for an authorized biography of “Survivor” winner Richard Hatch, but a reporter’s desire to expose deceptive practices that, if proven, seemingly violate Federal Communications Commission rules by deceiving the public.

Though it’s questionable whether a hands-off FCC would really pursue sanctions in a new game-show scandal, so long as producers present their work as “reality” the possibility of a public-relations nightmare lurks in the wings. “Most people do not believe it’s professional wrestling,” Lance said. “If it is a fraud, I believe that is going to affect a certain part of the audience.”

Both CBS and “Survivor” producer Mark Burnett have denied Stillman’s charges, and one can argue that much of the public probably wouldn’t care at this point if they were true. Even those who remain unconvinced the government is hiding alien corpses in New Mexico have become inured to the fact everything from political conventions to sports bends to the needs of television. Heck, the XFL represented an entire league dedicated (misguidedly, as it turned out) to the proposition sports would be more compelling if tailored to TV.

Producers who admit to assisting reality can steer programs toward more satisfying outcomes without facing such charges. CBS, for example, has hired Arnold Shapiro--producer of the Oscar-winning documentary “Scared Straight!,” about prisoners confronting at-risk teens--to oversee a new edition of “Big Brother.” Based on those credentials, an “assisted” version might be to punish convicted felons by isolating them in a house with chirpy host Julie Chen.

Programmers are already examining ways to blend fiction and “reality,” with virtually any variation on games, contests or voyeurism in play. The Fox pilot “Endgame” puts ordinary people in a small town where they try to solve a fabricated mystery. ABC’s “Public Property” has people cede life decisions to a national TV audience, while MTV’s “Flipped,” due in July, hinges on a sort of twisted “It’s a Wonderful Life” premise by having teens experience potential outcomes of their behavior--from spending time in a homeless shelter to, in the most extreme case, a body bag. As bizarre as some of the concepts sound, they are sure to become more so in attempting to stand out from the crowd.

Another aspect of the unscripted evolution entails laying bare the process itself, as MTV does in “Celebrity Undercover,” which subjects unsuspecting youths to elaborate hidden-camera pranks involving a favorite celebrity. Beyond the fact celebrities know they are being taped--and therefore behave the way fans dream they would--the show allows viewers to see precisely how the mark is being fooled.

Graden cites a fascination with deconstructing how programs are assembled, just as every movie now comes with its own “The Making Of . . .” special. Those behind the scenes thus become part of the action. “It’s almost like producers as mad puppeteers,” Graden said, bringing to mind Ed Harris’ “creator” character in “The Truman Show.”

That sits fine with Erik Nelson, whose productions include the specials “When Chefs Attack,” “Busted on the Job,” and “RedHanded.”

“Give the audience credit,” Nelson said. “You don’t have to get into exhaustive detail, but let them know how the soup is made. . . . Let people know, ‘Yes, there’s a man behind that curtain.’ ”

The corollary of all this is that short of physical harm, anything is considered fair game regarding contestants; indeed, because the audience views participants as publicity-seeking show-biz wannabes, there is room to cash in on hostility toward the players, making them--as in NBC’s quiz show “Weakest Link”--ripe targets for abuse.

Graden wouldn’t go that far but conceded, “There is a general sense in the population that the people on these shows now know what they’re signing up for. . . . No one’s getting exploited, because they know what the game is.”

Although plenty of viewers (not to mention writers and actors) hope this genre will deplete itself faster than you can say “Survivor III,” economics--from the modest cost structure to high tune-in among young-adult demographics craved by advertisers--dictate otherwise. As it stands now, programmers won’t stop exploring this terrain until every crevice is mined, including the real-life drama of an inevitable tragedy.

So the next time you’re enduring dinner with a boring date, a family ordeal or indignities at work, don’t despair. Your “reality,” perhaps, merely needs an assist, and some obliging TV producer could be just around the corner.

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Brian Lowry’s column appears on Wednesdays. He can be reached by e-mail at brian.lowry@latimes.com.