Ah, the Logies.
Our national, guilty shame.
Every year they come around, and like some horrible car crash by the side of the road, we approach them, hands over our eyes, peeking through, wondering how bad it will be.
And, let’s face it, in that cheesy “let’s try to make them sexy Hollywood glam and glitzy” stakes, the Logies rarely let us down.
A testimony to tacky.
A tribute to the tastefully tragic.
A salute to the B-Grade, D-Grade and beyond.
Ok, we did get Kylie Minogue in charge of the main event this year, handing over the Gold this year, and “the Singing Budgie” added a certain je ne sais quoi to the night’s proceedings…
(or is that Je Ne Sais Pas Pourquoi…cue song break…)
Of course, only the cynical would say that “our Kylie’s” appearance at the Logies was about advertising the fact that she is here to bring some zing to Channel Nine’s next season of The Voice (How will we live without Delta Goodrem on the show…let me count the ways…)
Kylie aside, the thing that struck me most about Australian television’s “night of nights” this year is that the Gold went to…
Oh, the Block.
Let me categorically state: I am NOT a fan of reality television. I have NEVER watched an episode of Big Brother (like seriously, never), Jersey Shore or Real Housewives of XYZ…although…dammit…I will come out of the reality closet and admit I did watch parts of Season 1 of The Real Housewives of Melbourne – I’m a Melbourne boy so I was supporting my old hometown…
And while not a fan of the reality genre (Ok, I am a hater of it, deal with it), I understand that many people are, and so I guess it makes sense that the Gold Logie might eventually go to a reality TV host.
However…as tacky as the Logies are…
As lowbrow, wannabe and “you-aint-never-gonna-be-the-Emmys-so-don’t-even-try”…
I’m sorry Logies – you have fallen to a new low.
(Who would have thought it possible?)
In fact, let’s be honest – Australia, we have fallen to a new low.
We have given the national tick to reality TV (well, we already had in terms of numbers watching the crap but now it’s official.)
We have put Reality ahead of Drama, Comedy and even Soap, FFS.
We have shamed ourselves and our nation.
At a time when the Australian Film and TV industry is coming up against the unprecedented ability of TV consumers to stream and download content from anywhere, any time, we have given the finger to locally-produced drama in favour of a genre in Reality TV that is as much about product placement and commercial endorsement as mind-curdling TV junket.
It makes me think of the famous grave-digger scene from Hamlet.
It must be se offendendo. It cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act. And an act hath three branches—it is to act, to do, to perform. Argal, she drowned herself wittingly.
In crowning Reality TV with Gold, we have both offendendo and dug a little deeper the grave of our home-grown Film and TV industry, unwittingly or not.
RIP OZ TV