The newly expanded judge panel. Courtesy of Fox.
Television years are much like dog years. With each year that
passes, television shows age exponentially. Their narratives peter out
and their production staffs try everything in the book--stunt casting,
shocking deaths, changes of locale--to energize them. This law of
diminishing returns extends beyond scripted television, though.
Unscripted shows also have to constantly find new ways to shake up the
formula in order to stay relevant.
It comes as no surprise,
then, that the producers of "American Idol" are unveiling in tonight's
season premiere--the show's eighth--a new, fourth, judge, songwriter Kara
DioGuardi . She'll join Randy Jackson, Paula Abdul and Simon Cowell,
the judges who have lorded over the singing competition since it began
in 2002. The caustic Cowell will have a tiebreaking vote during the
audition rounds.
As cast shakeups go, it's not a bad choice.
"Pop Idol," the British show on which the American version is based,
has always had four judges. In its second season, the producers of the U.S. show tried to add radio personality Angie
Martinez, but she quit early on. DioGuardi,
meanwhile, is a respected songwriter, and at 37 she brings a fresh approach to the judging of a show that frequently uses the youth and
youthfulness of its contestants as a basis of criticism (average age of the other three current judges: 49).
But if the intent is
to stop the show's audience attrition--it dropped 7% in total viewership
last season over the year before--DioGuardi's addition isn't going to
cut it. In order for "Idol" to survive, it'll have to stop thinking of
itself as a talent competition and start thinking of itself as what it
has always been: a reality competition show.
"Idol" producers have always seemed to pride themselves on the purity
of their competition, a democratic system in which the nation's best
undiscovered singing talent is crowned. But with "Idol," just like any
democracy, when people don't agree with the result, they become
disillusioned. It started as early as season 2, when Ruben Studdard
eked out a victory over Clay Aiken, inspiring thousands of Aiken's fans
to complain to the FCC about possible fraud and vote tampering. And in
many seasons, there has been a superior talent (see: Chris Daughtry,
Melinda Doolittle, Elliott Yamin) who is cut down too soon due to the
unpredictable ebbs and flows of voter's habits, or just their tin ears.
When oddball soul singer Taylor Hicks clenched the title in the fifth
season, even the show's producers acknowledged that the viewership had
made a terrible mistake. And the following season gave rise to Sanjaya
Malakar, the tuneless teen who captured the nation by sailing through
week after week despite an apparent talent deficiency. The image of
"Idol" as a pure meritocracy was shattered ages ago.
The show's producers seem not to have noticed. "There were no
panic changes," said exec producer Ken Warwick on a conference call.
"It wasn't, `Oh, my God, we've dropped 7 percent. What are we going to
do to change the whole show?' This wouldn't have been on TV for eight
years if it wasn't doing it right." After eight years, almost any show
is wobbling and in need of reinvention, and so far "Idol" has only made
minor changes to the competition. Last season, they created a rule that
contestants could play an instrument during their performances, a move
to enhance the show while showcasing the musicianship of its
contestants. It accomplished the latter goal, but not the former.
DioGuardi will probably give the show a temporary bounce, as curious
viewers tune in to see where her comments will fit in between Jackson's
complaints about "pitchiness" and Abdul's sartorial compliments. But
the only thing that will really rescue the show is to change the
gameplay.
Look at a show like "Survivor." Every season it adds new twists to
constantly keep the contestants feet to the fire, and the result is
often brilliance. When the "Survivor" producers made the controversial
decision to divide teams by race, it started out as a questionable
sideshow and finished as a deeply absorbing season. In the show's 16th,
producers created two teams, one consisting of fans of the show, the
other of fan favorites returning for another shot at the prize. It was
arguably the show's best season ever. No one expects "Idol" producers
to bring back old contestants to face off with new ones, but even a
subtle twist would go a long way in energizing the show. They could
resurrect the "Wild Card" show, in which each judge gets to select a
contestant cut too soon and give him or her another shot. That is,
after all, how Clay Aiken made it back into the mix and went on to be
one of the franchise's biggest stars. Instead of having contestants
choose their own songs, why not let them choose songs for one another?
Or how about ending the arbitrary rule of having six men and six women
in the finals? In season 6, it was clear after the first week of the
semifinals that the men were outclassed, but less talented men advanced
because of the inflexible rules.
At this point, no one actually thinks of "American Idol" as a platform
for the country's best new talent. It is what it is: a not entirely
fair, but often entertaining television show. Unless the producers
start focusing on the excitement of the gameplay rather than the
integrity of the competition, all adding an additional judge gets them
is the assurance that at least one more person is watching.
