Quizmania

My wife and I felt a fair degree of sympathy for the late-night host we were watching. She was hopping up and down hoping to entice someone to answer what was obviously a ridiculously easy question, and getting no takers. We put it down to the late hour. So we spent the 55 cent call-cost to experience interactive TV, but didn’t get through. We spent another 55 cents because it seemed like no-one was getting through – then another, this time not even reaching the call-waiting queue, and another, and another with the same result. $2.75 later, the cost of a loaf of bread, Quizmania had left us feeling anything but satisfied.

ITV production from the United Kingdom. Its local producers, Crackerjack, are responsible for what is possibly the most banal and deceptive program ever to reach Australian shores. Each night a host presents a series of seemingly simple word games for surprisingly large sums of money.

The routine, however, is the 21st century equivalent of the three-card hustle.

The ‘rube’ viewer rings in, paying their 55 cents and ready to offer their answer. However a recorded message tells them they are now only ‘in the running’ to participate. It’s uncertain how large the random selection pool they have found themselves in is, but by this point everyone has already parted with their money. If they survive this round, they learn they have made it through to the studio and will now be subjected to another selection process controlled exclusively by the producers. Of course, there is no explanation of their criteria.

Though the hosts constantly bleat that they are, “Taking heaps of calls tonight!” the truth is only a fraction of their paying participants ever get the chance to compete. Over three and a half hours the nationally broadcast show only let an average of 27 calls through every 60 minutes – roughly one every two minutes. Even when Quizmania runs promotions announcing “calls every 30 seconds,” the average only drops to about a call a minute. And the showy ‘speed round’ segments seem to make no difference to the hourly average.

Quizmania is cynical television at its worst, a conscienceless money-spinner. Host Amy Parks points at the dollar signs on the screen and declares, “We just want to give it away!” but the longer she delays in taking calls, the more callers deposit their charges in the online queue, and the more cash rolls into Crackerjack’s coffers. Wikipedia asserts the UK version of this program turned over £1.2 million in its first two weeks of operation. The Australian version does have a smaller audience to draw on, but Crackerjack has also limited itself in its online terms and conditions to not give away any more than $4,900 a night. In addition readers can also discover that just by ringing they apparently give their permission for their identities and contributions to be used by the producers for “… promoting this competition … or the Promoter, for an unlimited period of time without remuneration.” Not bad for the pleasure of hearing a recorded message. Admittedly there were nine winners from the 95 callers but the cash given away still fell about $700 short of the night’s limit. One can only assume the cases of energy drink and telephone cards being used as additional prizes are being counted towards the total, though they are unlikely to have cost the show anything.

Nine is not alone in broadcasting televisual ‘stings’ like Quizmania. TEN has run its own version under the title of the Up Late Game Show, and now incorporates similar money-spinners in Big Brother Up Late. Seven also ran a look-alike in the form of Midnight Zoo but dropped it after three months. These programs do more than just cheapen the medium, they make targets out of some of the most vulnerable members of the community. As a late-night television producer for some ten years I can assure you the average person awake in front of the box from 2.00-4.00 am is likely to have more issues than working out what to watch. Programs that discussed loneliness, depression, addiction and dissatisfaction with life were regular top raters.

The same personalities that respond to the call of poker machines are just as likely to respond to the dangled promises of easy money and develop similarly obsessive playing habits. Sure $2.75 a night might not seem like much to risk, but multiply that out over the standard phone bill and $80 of a household’s monthly budget evaporates. The Christian heart should begin to seethe with the social injustice at this point.

However we rarely seethe, though, because we’ve come to the conclusion that this is merely light entertainment for the average Australian who knows well enough when to stop. But consider the motivation for participating and its spiritual cost. Programs like Quizmania are built on provoking people to covet, that almost forgotten Old Testament sin. Coveting is the desire for more than God has given, and gambling is a tangible manifestation of our dissatisfaction with His providence. With each little flutter that promises the big return we train ourselves to believe bit by bit in the stinginess of God. And every such sin further honey-combs our commitment to holiness, weakening our resistance overall until it crumbles away almost unnoticed in the face of a major temptation. No Christian sets out to be focussed on worldly gain, but those who fall foul of it have to begin somewhere.

Quizmania is the coveter’s equivalent of soft porn. It deadens the conscience while increasing the desire. It’s no surprise that the ad breaks that surround it are filled with numerous invitations to indulge in promiscuity; darkness is often the domain of sin. But there is some genuine giving going on at this time of night. Our God ‘…grants sleep to those he loves.’

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