TV producers have a duty of care to contestants, but if they only cast the strongest people on their programmes, no one would watch
After several weeks of being regarded as a media goodie for running its Jimmy Savile documentary while the BBC did not, ITV has discovered how rapidly that identity can switch. Even while negotiating a payout to Lord McAlpine for Philip Schofield's card-waving part in defaming him![ext]()
, the network now stands accused in the tabloids of failing in its "duty of care" to Brian Conley, the entertainer who was hospitalised after becoming distressed during I'm A Celebrity ![ext]()
… Get Me Out of Here! But, while Schofield's web-researched J'Accuse was an indefensible editorial failure, the matter of stars unable to cope with ITV's jungle experience is more complex and arguable.
Most of the debate about reality TV's exploitation of vulnerable people has focused on The X Factor![ext]()
, Britain's Got Talent![ext]()
and Big Brother![ext]()
, mainly because those formats take unknowns and expose them to pressures with which they sometimes struggle to cope: Susan Boyle and the late Jade Goody are the most notable examples.
I'm a Celebrity![ext]()
and Celebrity Big Brother![ext]()
have generally been considered as carrying less risk because their casts have had some exposure to public notice and seem in many cases desperate to get it back; indeed, the series can be seen as B-list rehab. Even so, the star-based talent franchises have suffered enough incidents in which contestants seemed to become visibly distressed or depressed onscreen for broadcasters to emphasise the physical and psychological tests to which potential participants are now subjected.
The problem is – as Michael Grade, former showbiz agent and TV baron, has pointed out – vulnerability and susceptibility to depression are common among those interested in a showbusiness career. Boyle, though her rise and stumble were unusually accelerated, had a temperament and adjustment troubles recognisable in thousands of performers who became stars through more conventional routes. Brian Conley, by his own past accounts, also fitted this mental template.
There are a large number of actors and comedians of the past and present who access their talent by stripping away layers of protection: their performances more or less take the form of a nervous breakdown on stage or screen. If very strict psychiatric assessments were carried out across broadcasting, I'd argue that vast swaths of screen-time would suddenly be blank. I can think of several high-profile performers – actors, comics, presenters – who would never be allowed to work again if it were the absolute obligation of broadcasters to remove any risk of their suffering problems at work.
These realities of the artistic temperament do not, however, entirely excuse producers from a duty of care: ever since Big Brother began this wave of incarceration-humiliation shows, it has been my fear that the form contains the potential to end in suicide or homicide. But a production would be culpable only if it were deliberately choosing participants with the hope that they will implode. And it is hard to believe that this was the case with the latest controversy. In the knowledge of his past difficulties, both Conley and ITV took a gamble on his mental and physical stamina, which was presumably judged by both the performer and the shows' psychiatric advisers to be a reasonable risk. If anyone with a history of mental frailty were automatically barred from participation in such shows, the effect would be to stigmatise these illnesses and refuse any possibility of recovery.
And, if there is guilt, then any regular viewer of such series must share it. Reality TV programmes differ from the Olympics in that much of the pleasure comes from watching those participants who aren't good enough to win. A Strictly Come Dancing in which everyone was a brilliant waltzer or an I'm A Celebrity where all the campers chomped on kangaroo gonads as if they were cupcakes would rapidly lose viewers. The possibility of meltdown is part of the recipe.
Conley is, of course, deserving of sympathy and care, but the truth is that a version of I'm A Celebrity in which every contestant had been pre-tested to have the temperament and fortitude of an SAS veteran would be a series of much less interest to ITV and also – if we are honest – to viewers. Reported by guardian.co.uk 5 hours ago.
After several weeks of being regarded as a media goodie for running its Jimmy Savile documentary while the BBC did not, ITV has discovered how rapidly that identity can switch. Even while negotiating a payout to Lord McAlpine for Philip Schofield's card-waving part in defaming him
, the network now stands accused in the tabloids of failing in its "duty of care" to Brian Conley, the entertainer who was hospitalised after becoming distressed during I'm A Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here! But, while Schofield's web-researched J'Accuse was an indefensible editorial failure, the matter of stars unable to cope with ITV's jungle experience is more complex and arguable.Most of the debate about reality TV's exploitation of vulnerable people has focused on The X Factor
, Britain's Got Talent and Big Brother, mainly because those formats take unknowns and expose them to pressures with which they sometimes struggle to cope: Susan Boyle and the late Jade Goody are the most notable examples.I'm a Celebrity
and Celebrity Big Brother have generally been considered as carrying less risk because their casts have had some exposure to public notice and seem in many cases desperate to get it back; indeed, the series can be seen as B-list rehab. Even so, the star-based talent franchises have suffered enough incidents in which contestants seemed to become visibly distressed or depressed onscreen for broadcasters to emphasise the physical and psychological tests to which potential participants are now subjected.The problem is – as Michael Grade, former showbiz agent and TV baron, has pointed out – vulnerability and susceptibility to depression are common among those interested in a showbusiness career. Boyle, though her rise and stumble were unusually accelerated, had a temperament and adjustment troubles recognisable in thousands of performers who became stars through more conventional routes. Brian Conley, by his own past accounts, also fitted this mental template.
There are a large number of actors and comedians of the past and present who access their talent by stripping away layers of protection: their performances more or less take the form of a nervous breakdown on stage or screen. If very strict psychiatric assessments were carried out across broadcasting, I'd argue that vast swaths of screen-time would suddenly be blank. I can think of several high-profile performers – actors, comics, presenters – who would never be allowed to work again if it were the absolute obligation of broadcasters to remove any risk of their suffering problems at work.
These realities of the artistic temperament do not, however, entirely excuse producers from a duty of care: ever since Big Brother began this wave of incarceration-humiliation shows, it has been my fear that the form contains the potential to end in suicide or homicide. But a production would be culpable only if it were deliberately choosing participants with the hope that they will implode. And it is hard to believe that this was the case with the latest controversy. In the knowledge of his past difficulties, both Conley and ITV took a gamble on his mental and physical stamina, which was presumably judged by both the performer and the shows' psychiatric advisers to be a reasonable risk. If anyone with a history of mental frailty were automatically barred from participation in such shows, the effect would be to stigmatise these illnesses and refuse any possibility of recovery.
And, if there is guilt, then any regular viewer of such series must share it. Reality TV programmes differ from the Olympics in that much of the pleasure comes from watching those participants who aren't good enough to win. A Strictly Come Dancing in which everyone was a brilliant waltzer or an I'm A Celebrity where all the campers chomped on kangaroo gonads as if they were cupcakes would rapidly lose viewers. The possibility of meltdown is part of the recipe.
Conley is, of course, deserving of sympathy and care, but the truth is that a version of I'm A Celebrity in which every contestant had been pre-tested to have the temperament and fortitude of an SAS veteran would be a series of much less interest to ITV and also – if we are honest – to viewers. Reported by guardian.co.uk 5 hours ago.