Big Brother has a lot of explaining to do
By José Javier Reyes
Inquirer
Last updated 08:41pm (Mla time) 05/17/2007
Okay, that’s it.
Somebody really ought to tell off Kuya now. In behalf of those who still believe that ang telenobela ng tunay na buhay is more interesting than any of the prime time series that morph into an assortment of sub-genres—sinenobela, fantaserye, tele-iyakan, tele-whatever (which actually offer more of the same)— I hereby express my indignation.
Fascination
Ano ba naman ’yan, Kuya?
When the local franchise of “Big Brother” was launched last year, the fascination for peering into the most private moments of everyday people forced to live with each other became an interesting subject for social studies. We Pinoys make a big deal out of the stuff we are made of. Ours is a unique race with a tireless capacity to smile and make merry even on the eve of the apocalypse.
We also have as much of an appetite for overwrought and convoluted real-life drama as for entertainment. We are basically a non-confrontational people but, boy, do we love to watch highly emotional eksenas bordering on the hysterical.
The “PBB Celebrity Edition”" was a big coming-out party for Rustom Padilla. He was perceived as showing his strength by unfurling his vulnerability (“Kapatid … ang tapang niya!”).
At the same time, it presented a side of Keanna Reeves that made hypocrites realize that a woman should not be judged by her plunging neckline.
Objects of media curiosity and ridicule were suddenly ... endearing.
Generally, we are in awe of individuals who exhibit unbridled courage because most of us don’t have the guts to do so even in our personal territories.
Then, there was the “Teen Edition” that uh, produced Kim Chiu and Gerald Anderson. That, more or less, said everything.
And then last weekend it happened.
Big challenge
Admittedly the big challenge was to make the Second Edition sound and look as interesting as the first. The element of surprise was gone, and the thousands who queued up for a chance to squeeze into Kuya’s house already knew what it was about.
Showing the world what the Pinoy was all about was not the principal motivation for the greater number of participants. Being a “housemate” simply meant media exposure.
Let that be so. After all, Sam and Gerald and Kim and Franzen and Jayson made careers in a few months, where it would normally take forever and a day for a truly talented Johnny Nobody. And let’s admit it: Rustom got a new lease on his show biz life with that coming out, and has now become the heir apparent to Manny Castañeda.
Is that wrong
So what’s wrong with wanting a shot at a show biz career by dressing in silly costumes or playing parlor games and showing the world what you look like first thing in the morning? Is the prospect of media infamy and fortune not worth indulging in no-holds-barred confessions of your innermost secrets—those you never dared tell even your family and friends? So you willingly divulge yours to the world, complete with tears and sappy musical scoring ... so what?
Pagkakataon mo na ito, your one chance for the public to know the real you, the media you. What better way is there to be discovered by others while you are discovering yourself?
But the problem with the Second Edition was evident right from the start. Kuya wanted to bring in everybody. Not just anybody or any body but everyone who had a face and a body.
Whereas the premiere season had distinct and truly interesting characters like Uma, Say, Cass, Nene, Franzen, Jayson, Teacher Raquel and, of course, the biggest winner, Sam Milby … this current generation was plucked from a single phylum: dudes and dudettes.
The boys and girls are all young, healthy and gorgeous and would look good as co-hosts and/or guests on “Wowowee.” Oh, throw in a natural clown with a predilection for shedding gallons of tears with the least provocation, for variety and local color.
Boot camp
Otherwise, the show would seem like a boot camp for the “Philippines’ Next Top Model.”
But what was designed to be the selling point of the show turned out to be a glaring liability: They all look alike.
They can be distinguished only through their accents, for they speak several variations of spoken English.
Kuya must have realized this. That was probably why he brought in the housemates on installment basis. The first batch came clad in pajamas and handcuffs (that implied something kinky but turned out to be silly). The rest were ushered in wearing costumes. Others were hidden in secret nooks and crannies of the house … making some viewers wonder if this was the same set used in “Pan’s Labyrinth.”
For the sake of novelty, the housemates were endlessly being voted in or out of the premises. Just when you thought you have seen everyone, another boarder is brought in until the audience became as confused as the housemates themselves. Kuya, will you make up your mind? Ilan ba talaga ang titira diyan, ha?
Has that cute yellow house turned into Ang Hostel ni Kuya?
Kidnapped
One fine day, the dudes woke up to find one of them had been kidnapped. A few days later, they found a Slovenian in their midst. Now, that must have been very, very confusing for the residents. Why? Because the audience was very, very confused, too, figuring out what was happening.
Then of course there are the usual, yet highly necessary it seems, dramatic moments. But … uh …watching two women scream, whimper and b**ch about a personal crisis founded on something so trivial and then conclude the argument with a threat involving a knife was far from entertaining. It was disturbing. Ano ba talaga ang pinag-aawayan ng dalawang ’yan, ha?
It was bad enough that one of the girls was thoroughly spooking the audience by insisting on talking to a doll. Now there was a potential serial killer in there? Teka, bago ’yan, ha?
One jaded viewer commented, “Hmp! All’s well that ends well rin ’yan. Magyayakapan rin ’yan … mag-iiyakan … and all will be forgiven with a group hug.” Another was disappointed: “Ay, walang saksakan?”
Then there was the whole issue of two housemates na nagka-developan, thus leading the hunk to literally bray like an injured bull when his babe was voted out one tragic Saturday night. Some suspected that the emotional abandonment had been brought about by jet lag from a trip to Slovenia.
And just when everybody thought the hunk would soon be over the painful separation (while the babe was busy waving to the crowds waiting outside the Bahay), a new twist was introduced. Now there is a possibility that the girl could walk back into the house if she is voted in by the audience.
“Hu-waaaaaaaat?” screamed a certified PBB Addict.“Akala ko ba napalayas na ’yan? Bakit babalik pa?!”
Subplot
E, kasi naman, ano? Think of the possibilities. Could this subplot of the separated lovers be developed further? Could this launch the Next Big Love Team? Would they end up in an episode of “Your Song”?
Seen that, overdone that. A better question is, what will the housemates think with this new rule that might be labeled Labas-Masok sa Bahay ni Kuya? Now they must be really, really confused. Well, we are … again.
Whereas “Big Brother” shows in other countries seem to pander to the audiences’ curiosity to catch a glimpse of, uh, inevitable earthiness, trust the Filipinos to concoct their own unique version.
No naughtiness
There is not an iota of naughtiness in the local version, thanks to the La Liga de Laguardia. The slightest suggestion of hanky-panky among the boys and girls and Kuya merits a memo from the MTRCB. Sige nga, Kuya! Dare!
PBB had taken the safest route so as not to give the impression that this is Prime Time Bosohan. In between dancing, performing challenges and making endless kuwentos and confessions, the housemates cook bananacue, prepare halo-halo at pampalamigs to raise P300,000 to rehabilitate an elementary school in the Visayas. Diyos ko naman, Kuya! That, I tell you, will entail a helluva lot of bananas and shaved ice.
So amid all this, why am I particularly bored with the second edition? Why do I feel that the challenges the housemates are made to perform may be as visually entertaining as a game of Tetris but somewhat juvenile and downright meaningless? Why am I simply not interested in the characters of this batch despite all their attempts, conscious or unconscious, to have effective camera presence?
Is it because I feel that Kuya no longer knows what to do with the dudes and dudettes that he has gathered? Is this why he is feeding the audience with episodes that are not only irritatingly repetitive but on the verge of being ridiculous? Is Kuya equally unexcited about this present lot of housemates that he cannot squeeze blood out of them to make them relate to the audience, except for that same-old-same-old hagulgulan in the confession room? Does Kuya also feel, like some of us, that some of the housemates are endlessly performing for the cameras, as if they were auditioning for the next big production of Star Cinema or for an episode of “Maalaala Mo Kaya”?
Who cares?
Why is it that, after more than 80 days inside the house, most of us still do not know these people, much less care about them, talk about them or even empathize with them despite their sad stories and endless bickering? Why isn’t there a single one of the housemates interesting enough to win our admiration for grace under pressure or even sanity despite cabin fever?
The answer is simple: We are not made to know them. We see them but we do not know them. This makes it so much harder for us to send text votes for them. Now we really miss the Umas, Jaysons, Keannas and Rustoms of the past editions.
Paki- explain nga, Kuya?
