[Note: Reeler editor S.T. VanAirsdale is taking the week off, but the blog is in the good hands of trusted friends and colleagues; click here for other entries in the series. Evan Shapiro is the executive vice president and general manager of IFC. His Captain’s Blog appears on the network’s Web site.]
I loathe “reality programming.” I harbor no disrespect for the hundreds of people who produce “reality” TV–I know it’s a very difficult job, and realize that the shows can often be entertaining. But, ever since the arrival of Survivor and The Amazing Race and Project Greenlight, and Project Runway and The Contender, and, and, and, and… I have feared that we are on the precipice on the demise of Western culture itself.

“Reality” then and now: (L-R) PBS’ An American Family and IFC’s This Film is Not Yet Rated
Other than the new class of un-celebrity it has created, my major issue with the genre is that–like many things in these Orwellian times–“reality programming” is deceptively named. After all, “reality programming” is not based in reality at all. It is a complete manipulation that owes far more to fiction than any reality I know. Survivor bears about as much resemblance to being stranded on a deserted island as General Hospital does to The Mayo Clinic.
Today’s ever increasing number of “unreality shows” are genetic mutations of cinema vérité television, begun in 1973 by PBS with its stunning twelve part documentary series, An American Family.The series–directed by Alan and Susan Raymond–chronicled in painful detail the disintegration of the family of Patricia and Bill Loud and their five children. The eldest child, Lance, was the first openly gay person in a prime time television series, and, during the series, Bill moved out and Pat filed for divorce. It was riveting. No audition shows, no text message audience votes. Just real reality.
By comparison (for the most part – there are exceptions), today’s unreality shows look like Star Trek: They are clearly scripted; they are highly planned; and they leave little, if anything, to chance, circumstance or actual filmmaking.
But, I have found, there is an upside.
The explosion of “reality programming” has seemingly created something unusual in the American public–an appetite for reality. This, in turn, has created a significant boon for what is traditionally the most downtrodden end of the entertainment industry–documentary films and filmmakers.

Documentaries are supposed to reflect the culture back unto itself–to show us a reality that we might have otherwise missed. Great documentary or vérité directors unveil secrets that lie beneath or behind the veneer of every day life. The stories they tell are sometimes uncomfortable for us to see. But that does not make them any less important than, say, Superman or Wedding Crashers.

“Who woulda thought Al Gore could be a box office star?”
Traditionally speaking, however, the word “documentary” has spelled death at the box office. Now, while far from reaching blockbuster status, documentaries have become a somewhat reliable and sought-after genre among indie and mainstream studios. Even theatrical failures are relatively low risk ventures with an upside on television and DVD, while the hits can be–and have been–substantial money makers. Shit, who woulda thought Al Gore could be a box office star?
This has created a renaissance of sorts for docs, with the minis, indies and majors getting in the game and more funding flowing from investors in Hollywood and beyond. More importantly, for the first time in my memory, it has helped important filmmakers and relevant films actually find audiences. This shift has allowed the genre to grow beyond Michael Moore, to include entertaining films such as Wordplay, The Aristocrats and March of the Penguins, but has also allowed films like Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, The War Tapes and The Ground Truth to garner greater recognition and distribution.
While I am loath to admit it, I believe this current phenomenon is owed at least in part to “reality programming” on television. Audiences have been taught–by none other than Super Nanny and (gulp) Donald Trump–that a television show or a film does not have to have movie stars and special effects to be entertaining. In some cases, they’ve learned, it’s even OK to actually learn something while you watch! There are other factors, I’m sure, at play, but it’s hard to ignore the new found appreciation for vérité created by shows like 30 Days and My Life on the D List.
On September 1, IFC is releasing Kirby Dick’s documentary, This Film Is Not Yet Rated, into theaters, including an exclusive run at IFC Center. It’s an unvarnished, real-life examination of the Motion Picture Association of America, and the censorship of American movies–featuring a lesbian private eye (Becky Altringer) who investigates the MPAA’s ultra-secret ratings system. This is the first time I’ve overseen a theatrical release (let alone a multi-city theatrical run) of a documentary. And while I retain a major distaste for “reality programming,” it’s hard–if not impossible–to imagine staging such a wide documentary release in a pre-reality TV world.
This is hard to say, but… Thank you, Jeff Probst.

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