Strictly complaints sound like whingeing – dance training is supposed to be intense


Remember the Smash commercials? And the cackling of the little metal Martians when a potato was produced? “The Earth people eat a great many of these,” explained the alien who was just back from a fact-finding mission. “They peel them with their little knives, boil them for 20 minutes… clearly a most primitive race.”
Well, right now I’m wondering what the Martians would make of reality television. TV without scripts, much in the way of sets or trained actors? Ordinary folk baking or locked up in a house together? Minor celebs trying to survive in a jungle or dancing for the modest prize of a glitterball? And this is called primetime entertainment?
Advertisement
Hide AdAdvertisement
Hide AdBut maybe not for much longer. If Strictly Come Dancing falls then surely the rest of reality falls, too. Strictly is the cuddliest and sweetest of the entire genre. At least in the way the programme presents itself to an adoring viewership on Saturday nights. But if it’s found to have been beastly to contestants the rest of the week in rehearsals, then the last dance may be nigh. And if the most popular show is no more then how can others which pretty much exist to see the contenders suffer possibly continue?
Heartwarming and lovely
Think about this. In Big Brother, I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here! and the programmes which demand that hopefuls submit to extreme physical challenges, or force them to sleep rough or bang them up in prison, it’s more or less promised there will be tears and pain. This is why we watch. And in doing so, we’re not much different, or any more developed, than the bloodthirsty masses who used to throng the coliseums of Ancient Rome. Clearly a most primitive race, then.
But the BBC’s Strictly has always stood apart. Happy, heartwarming, just lovely. Everyone rooting for everyone else. One of the judges is fairly demanding but he’s greeted with laughter and boos like it’s pantomime. The contestants are a “family”, all of them on a “journey”. There’s no bitchiness and when tears do fall they’re ones of joy at having taken part, come so far and bonded – “for life” – with their professional dance partners. All of which has meant the allegations of abuse – verbal and in some cases physical – have come as an almighty shock.
If the claims stick, and more of a serious nature surface in the coming days, then the Beeb’s concession to agreeing to chaperones may not be enough and the 20th anniversary edition due to begin in September – and indeed Strictly’s future – would be under grave threat from what would amount to reality TV’s #MeToo moment.
Advertisement
Hide AdAdvertisement
Hide AdNot Operation Desert Storm
But what of the allegations which seem to consist of not much more than shouting, perhaps sparked by the pro-dancer, in his or her tutoring, believing that the contestant isn’t listening to instruction or working hard enough? Here you may find yourself in the unusual position of agreeing, possibly for the first time in your life, with Ann Widdecombe.
“Oh dear, what did they expect?” the ex-Tory minister and Strictly’s all-time biggest clodhopper wrote in the Mail on Sunday. “A few gentle waltzes accompanied by tea and sympathy? I’m close to losing it with all the whingeing, whining cries of misogyny emanating from former contestants. Actress Amanda Abbington says last year’s series left her with post-traumatic stress disorder. Eh? This was a dance competition, not Operation Desert Storm.”
There’s quite a lot going on here, never mind the enthusiasm with which the Beeb-bashing right-wing press are reporting the crisis. Historical cases are emerging, and doubtless some of the celeb hoofers choosing to “come forward” now were part of blitz ring-rounds of the show’s old boys and girls by papers desperate to keep the story bubbling. Daytime ITV has also been very keen on it, having recently had to endure its own crisis over This Morning’s Phillip Schofield.
But, really, what is the rationale of the average Strictly enlistee? What do they think the show will be like and what do they want from it? We know about the latter: an enhancement of their celebrity. There’s a mad scramble for places every year, agents bombarding the bookers. Does anyone really go on the programme in order to be able to throw some semi-decent shapes at the next family wedding? More likely it’s the hope of a spin-off book deal or a travelogue series.
Advertisement
Hide AdAdvertisement
Hide AdFlouncing hissyfits
For that, though, they must work. Do the training, learn the steps. The sessions will be intense – there isn’t much time before opening night – so the teachers will be demanding. And surely this is anticipated. In just about every movie with some form of dance as its theme, from old-time Hollywood musicals to Black Swan, there have been slave-drivers and tyrants. The celebs must be stupid if they don’t expect there to be pressure and, occasionally, flouncing hissyfits. Which doesn’t mean bullying can be condoned.
The status of the pro-dancers has changed. In Strictly’s beginnings they moved beautifully but were, to some extent, faceless. Then personalities began to emerge. Some waltzed off with their celebs, breaking up marriages. Others became celebs themselves, acquiring their own travelogues. For them now, the prospect of fame dangles like the glitterball so they can’t afford to be booted off in week one. Again, that doesn’t justify lashing out.
This is a mess and will have to be sorted. The Beeb needs Strictly. The showbiz-dependent tabloids currently biting the hand-that-feeds need it. And it gets the fans through the dark nights of winter. Some would argue, though, that in cultivating an image of unrelenting niceness, the edge it’s always consciously lacked was starting to cause a waning of the appeal. If the show survives the storm, a dark frisson will be there, no doubt about that.
Comments
Want to join the conversation? Please or to comment on this article.