“The Exclusives”: Reality Telly with Brains?!

Cruddy eyesight is a unifying trait for my family; I struggle to picture any post-middle age Cooney that doesn’t come with a pair of specs perched atop their greying head, and even the fledglings of the clan scarcely stay un-bespectacled for long. The Kardashian brood get impossible polish; the Jackson brothers get uncommon virtuosity; we get optical prescriptions. Sidestepping life as a four-eyes far longer than either of my siblings, then, and having henceforth not needed to invest in a pair of my own rims, was something I had always seen as a mark of triumphant self-government. Take that minor genetic defect, I’m my own man. When I swung by my appointment with the family optician this week, though, something odd happened. The waiting room was no longer a place to be shunned, no longer a cell that I was annually hauled to dread the impending knell of hereditariness. It was without trepidation that I glanced at the frames stacked dozens to a shelf along the walls, and I had no longer a thirst to deride the contact-lens line as denial driven wannabes. This peculiarity, I hasten to insist, had not one eye-ota to do with Dr Gary’s plush new refurb (funded entirely, I would imagine, by my close relatives...). Scandalous as it would sound to my former independent self, I longed for that feeble acuity I had shunned so defiantly all my teenage years. Why? I’ll be honest: pure and despicable vanity. In the past few years, bookishness and geeky ambition have become the in-things, and no self-respecting, anxious-to-advance professional would be seen dead without his trusted goggles. The glasses-phenomenon is part of a mammoth shift in what qualifies as “cool” nowadays; Mark Zuckerberg is in, Eminem at least 8 miles back down the road. It’s okay, nay, its trendy to do well rather than flunk out, and a hankering for professional accomplishments is no longer at loggerheads with having a damn good time.

Television, granted, has lightly grappled with this idea for some time; each season on “The Apprentice” there’s that one candidate who surpasses all others in the cool-stakes, who banters with potential clients and remains unruffled in the boardroom. But on the Beeb’s show, despite it coming within nanometers of dealing with the geek chic craze, the enviable sophisticate and his in-season glasses crash out before the final. He may be fly, but the message is of a fundamentally dry and disciplined corporate world where he just doesn’t fit. This is the first definite point to make about ITV2’s “The Exclusives”, which I leapt onto the bandwagon of last Thursday evening. It’s upbeat, entertaining and energized to its core, and absolutely embraces the idea that aiming high is all the rage. The reality series kicked off with six stylish, bright young “rookie” journalists competing for a year-long job with Bauer Media, the sprawling media company that houses dozens of successful glossies. Across the shows, the candidates have thus far been hauled into help with massive titles like FHM and Closer as they simultaneously hone their own skills and ruthlessly try to outdo one another. It’s “The Apprentice” meets “Big Brother” meets “News at Ten”, and my biggest bugbear is that I didn’t get in on it sooner; this week was the semis, and two hopefuls had already been scribbled off the shortlist for the coveted contract.

Aspirational: The series' full lineup

Aside from being a pioneer for acknowledging the clever/cool reconciliation, Thursday’s show kept me hooked with its Bolt-pace and its BGT-insistence on variety. Unlike the comparatively stuffy Apprentice, “The Exclusives” saw the final four face several demanding, telly-gold tasks, from vying to get the scoop at a red carpet event to attempting to wheedle out publishable responses from an especially boisterous Keith Lemon. At one stage, the candidates met with the photographic director of Empire magazine and were told to recreate scenes from the primitive 2012 blockbuster “The Hunger Games” by smearing themselves in dirt and clambering up trees. This was every inch as watchable as it sounds, and there was no guilt about it being off-topic drool, either; Empire indeed runs alongside its film features some snaps of journalists immersing themselves in the world of the flick. The choppy, riveting style, then, didn’t come at the cost of focus; there was diversity in the tasks but relevance to entertainment magazines persisted throughout. 

Indeed, this journalistic focus didn’t even falter in the surgically tautened and weightily made-up face of celebrity. At the aforementioned red carpet event, competitor Felix asked of a justly bemused Mel B, “Are you into bows and arrows and swords?” Rather than dwelling on Scary’s response (or, thank goodness, her outfit), the camera cut speedily to Empire-honcho Chris Hewitt and his expert opinion on how Felix had handled himself. Throughout the Lemon segment, the spotlight obediently snapped back to the aspirants rather than hovering around a more dependably-entertaining Keith; he gave his own feedback on the candidates that, gladly, was shrewd and concise (“He came across as a TV presenter.” “He was the most like journalists that I would normally meet.”) The same was true with inter-group tensions. Instead of attempting to obliterate this inevitable aspect of reality-telly, the show used it without getting hung up on it. The eventual alienation of Felix from fellow hopefuls Stewart, Ellie and Hayley was palpable, but producers documented it only when it had a direct bearing on the productivity of the team and then only briefly; at a zombie-inspired shoot Stewart was miffed about Felix’s snatching of ideas but the onus was on doing a good job regardless. The omnipresence of the group’s mentors, including FHM’s deputy director Dan Jude, ensured a constant eye on the rookies’ progress and a voice of expertise for viewer-benefit was always on hand. Entertainment journalism, Jude mused during one lone moment with the camera, is “about seeing something that others don’t.” I may be biased, but having such insider-advice as a prevalent feature of the episode was a nifty way to keep it fresh, interesting and firmly on-track. 

At the top: Judge Julian Linley prioritised detailed feedback

The show’s eagle-eyed judges, who this episode were Bauer creative director Julian Linley  and more! editor Channy Horton, received feedback from the candidates’ onsite mentors before doing the firing. This part, though brutal enough to be wickedly entertaining, was done without marring the credibility Thursday’s episode banked over its hour stint; each rookie was spoken to directly about their slights and successes without being victimized or mocked for the camera’s benefit. The hopefuls were not, as in the bulk of reality-show T.V., distanced from the professionals. Lobbing them in at the deep end would have been contrary to the show’s aim of nurturing journalistic flair. Each of the wannabe contractees had a one-on-one with Jude in which they were urged to reflect on their efforts so far and probed on the depth of their drive. It might sound pathetically tame, but was in substance far from being buddy-buddy drivel. The stress was on creating a realistic professional environment that the applicants could thrive in, and it wound up emphasizing the fact that this would be the exact sort of environment the series’ victor could look forward to working in.

A write off: Hayley's time on the show came to an end

The contestants themselves all embodied the in-vogue studiousness that can be such a rare find in Sugar’s boardroom. There was no glaring moron there solely to be jeered and each had their slip-ups and strengths. Thursday’s casualty was former glamour model Hayley, whose less than top-notch writing style was a sticking point for the judges. Hayley had been at ease in the competitive, star-filled world of entertainment journalism, and fellow candidate Ellie tipped her shortly before the cull as one to watch; a flashback to last week’s episode recalled her bagging an Amy Childs “scoop” (perhaps taking a blanky to bed is more controversial in Essex...). The judges praised her drive and commitment to the field but her unpredictability and easy likening to “a massive blender” warranted her omission from the final. Stewart, though sickeningly smarmy and ever-poised to praise his superiority in the tasks, came across as the most committed. His resolve to carry on in journalism even if he failed to secure a place in the final was far more commendable than the responses of his competitors; Felix said he could “do some cycling at the gym”, Hayley wept and Ellie protested inarticulacy (a fabulous trait for a journalist, that), and then followed Hayles’ lead. Felix was the episode’s most-featured applicant, but his screen time failed to show him as much above adequate; Keith Lemon ran rings around him, he lacked originality and misnamed a film when writing a lengthy review on it. Still, his place in the final wasn’t too absurd. The mentors and judges remembered his previous stellar record and he oozed a stylish ease that promised an unforced writing style and professional flexibility. Still, Ellie was Thursday’s winner for me. She probed Lemon without quashing his gaiety, her “second to none” writing style was praised (though admittedly picked apart for being a jot too waffly) and producers seemed eager to incorporate her fretting that she was being outshone. Can you say “underdog”?

I’ll be tuning into next week’s final because of Thursday’s lucid focus and big-league experts, its up-to-date, career-inclusive definition of “cool” and, admittedly, because entertainment writing is something I think is pretty groovy. When I probed the show’s site (about 30 seconds after the credits), I found links to professional advice on how to crack the world of media, and the most well-trodden routes to the top. This is entertainment telly with its head, and geeky glasses, firmly in place.