Cast: Brooke Smith, Glenn Fitzgerald, Marylouise Burke, Michael Kaycheck, Richard Venture, Merritt Wever
Director: Daniel Minahan
Producers: Jason Kliot, Joana Vincente, Christine Vachon, Katie Roumel
Screenplay: Daniel Minahan
Cinematography: Randy Drummond
Music: Girls Against Boys
U.S. Distributor: USA Films
It's no secret that reality-based television programs are one of the hottest commodities available on the small screen today. Since the unanticipated success of CBS's "Survivor", every major U.S. network has been pursuing one or more of these shows, confirming the prescience of the producers of The Truman Show and EdTV. Eventually, things will probably reach a saturation point, and the public's sudden thirst for this type of programming has all the earmarks of a fad that may well have faded into obscurity five years from now. But, while it's in vogue, it is providing fodder for print articles, talk show debates, and motion pictures like Series 7.
Series 7 extrapolates the current reality-based craze to an extreme yet logical (?) conclusion, and presents the results as a straightforward parody of a game show where one person wins by killing his or her opponents. For 90 minutes, we see this "TV special" just as viewers might see it, with no outtakes, interviews, or behind-the-scenes insight. Director Daniel Minahan obviously has a detailed understanding of how TV exploitation works; his meticulously detailed, slickly produced result uses all of the tricks of the trade, including sappy incidental music, fast edits, dramatic "re-enactments", and a voiceover designed to keep couch potatoes from reaching for the remote. But there's a problem, as well. The lure of both the game show and the reality based program is that they're (supposedly) not scripted and are happening to real people. That's what creates the tension and encourages people to tune in each week. As cleverly produced as Series 7 is, it's still a parody - a concoction that has a director, a screenwriter, and actors. Without any sort of dramatic tension, this approach cannot sustain a full-length feature film. After a while, the freshness is gone, and it doesn't take long for the proceedings to become dull and leaden. There are moments of inspired, laugh-aloud comedy, but they don't have staying power. As a short, Series 7 might have been brilliant; as a 90-minute feature, it wears out its welcome long before the game is over.
The premise of "The Contenders" is simple: five new contestants battle it out with a reigning champion to see who will emerge victorious. It's kill or be killed - modern-day gladiator contests where the Coliseum has been replaced by the well-manicured lawns and sleepy houses of suburbia. Each contestant is given one gun by the show's producers (any other accessories, such as rifles, bulletproof vests, and knives, have to be purchased at the user's expense), and is accompanied day and night by a cameraman (except in bathrooms). Once someone is in the game, the only way out is to win or die - there's no quitting. Those who think this sounds a little like the '80s Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle, The Running Man, wouldn't be far off. Only then it was science fiction - now it's close enough to reality to be considered a satire.
By the time "The Contenders" reaches Series 7, the champion is Dawn (Brooke Smith), a thirty-ish woman who is eight months pregnant and has a long list of kills to her name. Her challengers are Bob (Michael Kaycheck), an unemployed father and husband; Franklin (Richard Venture), a crotchety old coot with a bad temper; Linday (Merritt Wever), an 18-year old girl with overprotective parents; Connie (Marylouise Burke), a nurse who acts more like an angel of death than an angel of mercy; and Jeff (Glenn Fitzgerald), a terminally ill cancer patient who has a secret past connection with Dawn. One-by-one, with the cameras watching, these six proceed to knock each other off. In between deaths, "The Contenders" offers us portraits of the various players (much like the "human interest" stories that pad Olympics coverage).
Series 7 might work better if we were to develop an interest in any of the characters. But, despite Minahan's attempts to flesh them out within the confines of the format, he doesn't succeed. To the end, they all remain thinly-drawn caricatures acting in service to the screenplay. They go through the motions and we watch them go through the motions, but we don't care about them. And it's difficult to sit through any 90 minute feature if there's no character identification. The acting is solid - lesser-known actors like Brooke Smith and Glenn Fitzgerald do good jobs portraying their alter-egos as somewhat believable eccentrics rather than over-the-top cartoon characters. But more than a few effective performances are needed to keep Series 7's momentum from flagging.
As a piece of social commentary and perhaps even as a cautionary fable, Series 7 has merit. It addresses several weighty issues: violence & the media, how being on TV can make anyone an instant celebrity, and what an indiscriminate, restless viewing public will consume. The subject matter certainly isn't groundbreaking (Oliver Stone's Natural Born Killers is only one of many movies to run around in the same playground), but the non-conventional style makes Series 7 worth a passing look for those who have interest. Unfortunately, this is one of those movies that is considerably more interesting to read about than it is to sit through. And, contrary to some reports, it's no Blair Witch Project. (That comparison, which has been made elsewhere, is both misleading and mystifying). Series 7 has a gimmicky hook, but, once it lures audience members in, it fails to hold them. If I was watching this on TV, I think I'd be channel surfing by the end of the first half-hour.
© 2001 James Berardinelli