There are all sorts of reasons a celebrity might take part in a reality show. Cash, exposure and reputation management are chief among them, and different programmes tend to promise varying degrees of each of each. I’m a Celebrity – cash. And (especially if you are a disgraced politician) loads of it. Celebrity Big Brother – exposure. And if you ask me, too much of it.
Strictly Come Dancing – provided you behave yourself – reputation management. That programme is so centred around the collective joy and the personal journey that unless you do something literally actionable (and unfortunately this does too often come to pass), cheat on your wife or husband with your professional partner, or demonstrate poor sportsmanship by not giving the dancing a sincere go, then you cannot come out of it looking too bad.
The Celebrity Traitors, however, is an altogether different proposition, because nobody needs to debase themselves and nobody’s really on the make. With no sob stories and no big cash prizes to redeem the desperate, nobody “needs” to be there at all. They’re there because it’s supposed to be fun. A few weeks playing a big silly game in the Highlands with a load of other nice, respectable, BBC primetime-approved characters, safe in the knowledge that the final result will be both classy and a sensation (which just about never happens in television).
What’s to lose? The biggest hardship was probably having to wear cashmere while filming in the height of summer. As Celia Imrie this week proved, The Traitors is such a safe bet you can even do a big fat fart on camera without losing your dignity. The casting agents must have had their pick of the Who’s Who – this is the best gig in television.
Or is it? Because what several of this lot may have failed to consider is that The Traitors is a mind game in which success relies on either deceit, betrayal and dishonest allegiances, or very good instincts, detective skills and powers of persuasion. It is frustrating, sometimes upsetting, and certainly humbling, especially when one is forced to discover their character judgement is shonky or that other people just don’t trust them very much. They stand to lose something very important indeed: their heads.
On his podcast Reel Talk this week, Jonathan Ross – who is brilliantly malevolent in the role of Traitor – said that he didn’t enjoy the experience of The Traitors very much. Famous friends had asked him whether they should go on series two (already in process) and he had encouraged them to consider it carefully. It might all sound like a harmless game of Wink Murder – and surely it’s even more fun when lots of the other contestants are your friends? – but having to lie for several weeks takes a toll. As he clarified on social media, “I am pleased I did it – an extraordinary experience – but I did not enjoy the duplicity as the game progressed. It’s a tougher psychological challenge than I expected.”
I expect it was even harder than the civvy version in this respect – Traitors must lie to people they already know and trust; Faithfuls must suspect and accuse them. The game relies on targeted campaigns and witch hunts, and in tearing other people apart. Nobody ever comes out of that looking good – and when you’re wrong, the basis on which you conclude others have negative traits can reveal or suggest unconscious biases.
And if you’re the accused, every word or decision is held up as evidence of sabotage and you’ve got a table full of people giving you a character assassination with the public listening. It might not be the ritual, medieval humiliation of I’m a Celeb but you’re never more vulnerable than when you’re defending yourself and trying to convince everyone else you are honest and good.
As much as I don’t believe anybody goes into that castle hoping to challenge public perceptions, as they summon all the instincts and strength they have to build the prize pot and weed out the enemy, the audience are inevitably seeing another side of them. The dozy side (Lucy Beaumont’s I expected; Kate Garraway’s I did not; Clare Balding will never forgive herself for pulling that lever). The angry one (I adore Mark Bonnar, but shame at his wrong guesses is eating him up inside and he’s getting more and more bad-tempered). The petty one (Tom Daley’s scrutiny was ruthless). Tribalism, ganging up, robbing each other of screen time – The Traitors is an ugly game.
With Alan Carr as a Traitor, the baddies are stealing the show – but at least they’re only playing a part. The Faithfuls are being themselves – and when you’re famous, and your career rests on people liking and respecting you, that’s much riskier.
