|
This paper was presented at the Association for Education in Journalism and
Mass Communication in San Antonio, Texas August 2005.
If you have questions about this paper, please contact the author
directly. If you have questions about the archives, email
rakyat [ at ] eparker.org. For an explanation of the subject line,
send email to
[log in to unmask] with just the four words, "get help info aejmc," in the
body (drop the "").
(Feb 2006)
Thank you.
Elliott Parker
====================================================================
Under the (glue) gun:
Containing and constructing reality in home makeover TV
Submitted for
Entertainment Studies Interest Group
AEJMC 2005 National Conference
Submitted by:
Madeleine Shufeldt, doctoral student
University of Colorado- Boulder
and
Kendra Gale, Ph.D., Assistant Professor
University of Colorado – Boulder
Inquires should be directed to:
Madeleine Shufeldt
School of Journalism and Mass Communication
University of Colorado- Boulder
1511 University Avenue
478 UCB
Boulder, Colorado 80309-0478
[log in to unmask]
303-442-2441
Abstract
This paper presents a case study of two families over a 7 month
period as they move from fan to applicant to cast of the home
improvement reality TV program Trading Spaces: Family. The paper
details the discrepancies between the actuality of participation and
the preferred "reality" of dramatic and collaborative interior
design. Strategies to maintain (or even increase) the producers'
power over the unscripted events via program format, contracts and
selective editing are highlighted.
Over the past five years, the already booming home improvement
industry has seen a proliferation of reality-based home improvement
television programs –many inspired by the phenomenal success of the
quirky reality decorating show Trading Spaces which debuted on the
cable network TLC in 2000. "Copycats and variations on the idea have
been multiplying like wire hangers in a walk-in closet," argues
television critic Anna Gates (2005).
When TLC launched Trading Spaces: Family in 2003 as its own spin-off
from the original series, the show's executive producer explained it
as a strategic business decision. "We wanted to build on the success
of Trading Spaces… but we won't have spinoffs to the point you don't
recognize the show" (quoted in Freydkin, 2003, p. 8). Indeed,
Trading Spaces: Family bears a clear resemblance. Both series from
Banyan Productions share the premise of neighbors trading houses to
redecorate one room in each other's home over just two days and with
a budget of $1000. Trading Spaces: Family replaces the 2-person
teams of the original show with families of four, including at least
one child between the ages of 9-14. These two shows and others like
them suggest that they let viewers in on the unpredictable and
unglamorous realities of radical redecoration; TLC makes this claim
explicit in its advertising slogan for such shows: "Life Unscripted."
Yet, from an analytic perspective, the focus on how these shows
produce stunning interior designs has obscured a focus on how these
shows themselves are produced. We seek here to explore how such
shows contain the actuality of DIY labor and construct an ideal
"reality" of home improvement. The present study explores the real
conditions of producing an episode of reality TV through a case study
of two families who participated in Trading Spaces: Family. By
engaging with the perspective of the participants themselves, we were
able to move beyond textual analysis and understand how their
experiences differed from the televised reality. We aim to situate a
descriptive analysis of their actual experiences within the economic
context of TV production and emerging theory about the constructed
reality of reality TV.
Literature Review
Reality TV is a difficult genre to define. Although its emergence as
a major phenomenon is closely tied to popular culture and economic
trends of the 1990s, its roots can be traced back to the early 1970s
(Kompare, 2004; Murray, 2004). In their introduction to an
insightfully edited volume on the genre of reality TV, Murray and
Ouellette (2004) point out commonalities and suggest that reality TV
can best be understood as "an unabashedly commercial genre united
less by aesthetic rules or certainties than by the fusion of popular
entertainment with a self-conscious claim to the discourse of the
real" (p. 2). Its hallmarks are a world peopled by non-professional
actors and without formal scripts although the action that evolves
may be partially scripted and the amateur cast may be joined by
celebrity hosts or guests.
In the early years of reality TV, there were few scholarly
investigations of the form and its implications; however, in recent
years, television scholars have turned their attention primarily to
three emergent sub-genres christened with the neologisms "docudrama,"
"docusoap," and "gamedoc" (See, for example, Kraszewski, 2004; Paget,
2004; Smith & Wood, 2003). While early shows such as Cops would now
be classified as a docudrama, The Real World is a docusoap and
Survivor appears to be the quintessential gamedoc. A fourth subgenre
of makeover programs –those shows that document the transformation of
real people, actual houses or even entire towns guided by expert
designers-- have received far less scholarly attention. When they
have been studied, shows that enact personal transformations such as
What Not To Wear or Queer Eye for the Straight Guy have drawn more
attention (Hall & Hebert, 2004; Heller, 2004). Despite their immense
popularity and frequent coverage in the popular press, shows like
Trading Spaces that emphasize improvement projects for the home have
been significantly understudied. Just two scholars have addressed
these reality home improvement texts to date (Everett, 2004;
Shufeldt, 2004). Everett (2004) christens this subspecies
"Transformation TV." She considers the development of this subgenre
as well as some of its hallmarks. Shufeldt's (2004) textual analysis
of Trading Spaces explores how the show mediates meanings of home and
ideologies of style within the reality TV/do-it-yourself context.
Beyond the variations in content and unique implications of the
transformation TV subgenre, an issue frequently discussed across
subgenres considers how reality is contained and constructed in
reality TV programming. This paper emphases three distinct modes of
containing the real that serve to maintain (or even increase) the
producers' power over the unscripted happenings in front of the
camera: logistical control through the program format, contractual
agreements, and narrative control achieved through manipulation or
selective editing. Each of these will be explored in detail in the
pages that follow, but first we must establish a frame for
understanding the general construction of TV and reality TV in particular.
Murray and Ouellette (2004) recognize that "Although reality TV whets
our desire for the authentic, much of our engagement with such texts
paradoxically hinges on our awareness that what we are watching is
constructed and contains 'fictional' elements" (p. 5). In this case,
"fictional elements" refers not to the on-screen relationships but
begins from the very premise of each program. For example, John
Corner argues of the British reality hit Big Brother that it
"operates its claims to the real within a fully managed
artificiality, in which almost everything that might be deemed to be
true about what people do and say is necessarily and obviously
predicated on the larger contrivance of them being there in front of
the camera in the first place" (Quoted in Couldry, 2004, p.
58). This selective reflexiveness is not only characteristic of
reality TV, but it is found across television genres (Allen & Hill,
2004). Allen and Hill (2004) argue in their wide-ranging Television
Studies Reader that television eagerly reveals certain aspects of its
production (through behind-the-scenes footage, celebrity discourse
about their work, etc.) but obscures others. They suggest that the
aspects revealed are not intended to "provide viewers with a
systematic, comprehensive account of the imperatives, goals, logics,
costs, and implications of the production processes upon which
various forms of television are based, but rather to present partial,
self-promotional glimpses of what they would like us to see" (p.
268). In reality TV, this selective reflexivity may be even more
problematic. Viewers are shown the hidden cameras and the un-edited
dialogue –in the case of home makeover shows, elements of production
reality such as construction projects and budget constraints are even
incorporated into the format of the show.
In the case of Trading Spaces: Family, these aspects are hallmarks
of format; scenes of project labor, budget discussions, and handheld
camera work are tropes that appear only slightly modified not only on
Trading Spaces: Family but also Trading Spaces, Trading Spaces: Boys
vs. Girls, and the original British production Changing
Rooms. Format-driven television programs are becoming increasingly
common due to changes in the television industry and market
globalization, argues Moran (2004). For this reason, he sees format
as an essential analytical category for exploring how the standard
elements of a show function economically and artistically. Moran
points out that format-based shows are far less risky for producers
than completely original programming because the format streamlines
production and reduces uncertainty about the viability of the
concept. Madger (2004) concurs and, in an analysis of the business
of reality TV, points out that formats and their associated business
models are also cost-saving devices for producers. For a show like
Trading Spaces: Family, adherence to the format is what allows all
filming to be completed for an hour-long episode in three
days[1]. The format contains cost and takes some of the risk out of
reality, but this is not the only means of containing the situation.
Working with real people –the non-professional actors who gamely
compete in exotic locales or open up their suburban homes to the
television cameras – has the benefit of cost-effectiveness but the
significant drawback of unpredictability and legal liability. These
drawbacks are contained in detailed contracts that participants must
sign relieving the production company of medical or legal
liabilities. Halbert (2003) provides one striking example in her
in-depth analysis of the contract signed by participants on CBS's
Survivor: Australian Outback. She argues that this contract, in
effect, gives CBS control over reality, but "it is a reality mediated
by the legal matrix of contract law. Any contesting of the reality
conveyed by the show is prohibited, both legally and publicly" (p.
52). In the case of Survivor, participants forfeit their right to
their own images and even life stories granting the network the right
to willfully misrepresent the player "for the purposes of
fictionalization, dramatization or any other purposes including
without limitation to achieve a humorous or satirical effect" (quoted
in Halbert, 2003, p. 45). Such contracts also ensure that program
content is kept secret until the show airs; contestants agree not to
reveal anything about their experiences under penalty of hefty fines.
Raphael (2004) likewise argues that such contracts represent a
further boon to producers because contracts with the ordinary people
who participate in reality shows are much easier to negotiate than
labor contracts with unionized production workers and
writers. Overall, the contractual arrangements contain risk and
restore decision-making power to those behind the camera and in the
editing suites while rending much of the authentic power from the
unscripted participants. Unscripted does not mean uncontrolled.
With complete legal power, the producers are free to build in
narratives that draw viewers and construct reality. This is the
third key way in which the power of the producers is affirmed and
messy reality is contained. Some editing is essential to fit a
coherent story into a 60-minute slot. But on some deeper level,
looking for narrative in unscripted programming seems
counterintuitive; yet narratives can be constructed in any medium
–even those that lack traditional characters and story-telling
elements (Ryan, 2004). Halbert (2003) avers that, in fact,
"television producers are far more adept at creating 'reality' than
everyday people. It takes hundreds or thousands of hours of footage
to construct a 30-60 minute program and editorial genius can erase
the banality of human life" (p. 49). By 2005, we have become quite
used to the idea that reality TV is carefully edited together for the
biggest dramatic impact.
In the context of reality TV, elements of narrativity (including
character development, dramatic tension and resolution) build a
dramatic narrative rather than presenting merely a collage of scenes
from everyday life. Savvy viewers recognize that editing for
narrative in reality TV does far more than this. Couldry (2004)
argues that the editing process "polices any differences of
interpretation about what that reality should be, ruling out any
behavior excluded by the production choices it makes and ruling in
the so-called positive selves that it presumes the public wants to
see and contestants want to display" (p. 71). Editing in these shows
can vilify a participant or create a steamy romance that isn't
there. For example, Patkin (2003) cites examples from Survivor:
Australian Outback in which the winning participant was consistently
depicted as an outsider in part by emphasizing footage that showed
him going naked on the beach and excluded footage that showed other
players engaging in the same behavior. As Couldry and Patkin have
noted, editing is used to create good guys and bad guys, and a
preferred reality containing the unpredictable nature of actual
reality. This does not mean that the preferred reality will
necessarily be rosy. Dramatic conflict is one feature of the
narratives of reality TV across subgenres; participants form
alliances and betray friendships on gamedocs such as Survivor, just
as roommates tire of one another and bicker on the docusoap shows
such as Big Brother or Real World. Makeover or transformation shows
are not exempt from conflict either. While some conflict may be
naturally occurring, producers are unlikely to gamble on the natural
occurrence of a "useable" conflict that will draw in viewers. In
addition to highlighting tension through editing, conflicts can also
be developed through structural inducements to heighten tension
(Syvertsen, 2001; Godard, 2003).
In the Trading Spaces family of shows, one structural inducement to
heightened tension is developed in the power differential between
designer and participants that is carefully supported by the format
of the show. Shufeldt's (2004) textual analysis of Trading Spaces
found that "Even when the designs 'fail' the judgment of homeowners
at the reveal, the designer's position is not threatened. …In each
episode, the homeowners' moment of judgment is bookended by
designers' commentary before and [the host's] sign-off after
thanking, by name, the designers –not the homeowners" (p.
18). Shufeldt also suggests that in addition to structural
inducements toward conflict, tensions are heightened in Trading
Spaces simply because the show deals with real homes –a meaning-laden
highly personal space. Since the home is an extension of its owner,
redecorating choices are also understood as suggestions for personal
transformation. Shufeldt's textual analysis contributed a
preliminary understanding of the meanings presented in tightly edited
episodes of Trading Spaces, however, such an analysis could not
reveal the lived experiences of homeowners nor the process of
constructing/containing reality.
Thus, the present study contributes a case study of the lived
experiences of two participants and their families. We ask how they
experience the power dynamics as everyday participants and the
construction of their reality. We seek to understand how the Trading
Spaces: Family format, the contractual agreements between
participants and producers, and the narrative constructed through
editing serve to contain the messy or banal reality and create the
television reality of a highly successful program.
Method
This research was conducted as a multi-method case study extending
over a period of seven months from pre-selection application and
interviews through the filming, the airing of the episode and
post-air interviews. Research included formal recorded interviews,
informal conversations, pure observation, participant-observation,
document and textual analysis. Grounded theory, or the
constant-comparative method, informed this study and allowed us to
identify emerging themes throughout the process (Glaser & Strauss, 1967).
Initial contact was made through a mutual acquaintance when the
families were in the audition process. When Connie Baker and Abby
Thomas agreed on behalf of their families to include us in the
process, we were added to an email distribution list that routinely
updated interested friends and family about their status. [2] The
Bakers became our primary contact throughout the process. Once
accepted as an official family for the Trading Spaces Family program,
participants are contractually prohibited from conducting interviews
or allowing anyone to photograph the rooms once designed.
In lieu of interviews, the Baker and Thomas families agreed to keep a
journal of the process with a new set of questions to be addressed at
each phase: pre-filming, between filming and the day the episode
aired, and after the episode aired. The writing prompts primarily
concerned expectations of and questions about the experience, e.g.,
how did you select your swap mates? Did you suggest any changes to
the designers? What was most surprising in viewing the
episode? Journals could not be collected until after the program
aired. Obviously, this precluded the opportunity to ask follow up
questions in a timely fashion but this was deemed preferable to
having participants reconstruct the entire experience
retroactively. Finally, formal recorded interviews were conducted
and transcribed just before and after the program aired.
In addition, the research team was able to view the production
process from the street, see one of the rooms shortly after the
filming and have an informal conversation with the homeowner about
her experience, and attend viewing parties in each home. Both
researchers independently completed fieldnotes observing some of the
filming process, when meeting participants and seeing the rooms for
the first time, after the viewing parties when the episode aired and
of independent viewings of the program. Each of these approaches
allowed the development of "sensitizing" probes for subsequent
interviews and observation. Finally, fan sites were monitored for
program information and response to the Baker-Thomas episode.
Opportunities for triangulation of data arose from multiple methods,
two interviewers who conducted interviews jointly as well as
separately, multiple interviews with the same person, and multiple
informants on the same process, e.g., how both families or different
family members perceived the same event. The longitudinal process
afforded the opportunity to identify and explore disjunctures in the
data more thoroughly (Wallendorf & Arnould, 1991) in order to achieve
both descriptive and interpretive validity.
Findings
Our interactions with and observations of the Baker and Thomas
families throughout this experience made it clear that viewing the
final hour-long episode of their redecorating adventures would leave
the viewer with a very limited understanding. Therefore, this
analysis begins by considering how their experience is presented on
TV. We proceed from there to unpack this constructed reality by
exploring the application process, the families' accounts of filming
the episode, the editing of the episode and the contractual
agreements underlying the whole project.
As the episode begins, Abby and Scott Thomas with their teenage
daughters, Beth and Kim, propel water balloons at the Baker
team. The Thomas family is introduced as daring and artistic; we
learn that they want to turn a guest bedroom into a studio workspace
for Abby and the girls. Connie and Sam Baker fire back as a
voice-over introduces their team as young and energetic. We learn
that they want to transform their dining room into a sophisticated
space for entertaining, but they also want to keep an element of
fun. The youngest member of the Baker team, Andrew (age 9), suggests
a game theme in the dining room explaining that Sam really likes to
play poker. Over the next 48 hours collapsed into 60 minutes of
high-speed montage, the two teams will work in each other's houses
painting walls, sewing curtains, refinishing furniture and tiling
floors late into the evening under the direction of two designers who
work alongside them, Barry and Laura. Throughout the episode, it's
clear the teams are working hard, but they take breaks for
light-hearted play such as a game of musical chairs or some impromptu
dancing.
After the work is completed, the exhausted and anxious families are
led into their rooms for "the reveal." The Thomases unanimously love
their new studio custom-designed with separate work areas for Abby
and the girls and featuring a desk painted with bright stripes,
rustic slate tile flooring, and an abstract mural on one wall. They
applaud the designer's funky and eclectic style and say it is just
what they wanted. On the other hand, down the street, the Bakers are
less enthusiastic about their dual-purpose dining room. The new
space features a richly patterned fabric on the windows and cornice,
sleek black tile flooring, a faux antler chandelier, and an octagonal
dining table that converts to a poker table. Neither Connie nor Sam
seems pleased with the designer's concept. Connie is especially
appalled by the chandelier; Sam says the only thing he likes is the
paint color although he also judges the poker table and a dartboard
hidden behind framed artwork to be "cool." Despite their obvious
disappointment, they are good sports about it stoically accepting
their new room and even agree, when asked by the host, that they had
a good time doing Trading Spaces: Family. The emotions conveyed at
the reveal are real and unscripted, but the episode summary above
certainly does not capture the whole experience of participating in the show.
The Reveal revealed
The fast-paced montage of redecorating work and the requisite
"after" images of the transformed rooms do not reveal a number of
design flaws. In the Thomas's new studio, only half of the floor has
slate tiles; the other half is bare concrete painted red. A piece of
molding has been tacked down to create a threshold between the two
halves of the room. The mural has sloppily painted lines and the
colors are streaky. In the Baker's dining room, trim around one
window is only partially painted, and this same window is covered
with a curtain pieced together from mismatched fabric that isn't the
right size for the window. One of the new black floor tiles has
already been cracked and the break partially obscured with black
marker. The dining room chairs have been painted red, but the paint
work is gloppy and uneven. The poker/dining table is too small to
function efficiently for either poker or dining; as Connie later
explained, "The table is too small for even our family of four. We
can put a casserole in the middle and that's it."
Our analysis reveals that these design misfires were not the fault of
lazy homeowners nor are they completely attributable to capricious
celebrity designers. They can be better understood as the
by-products of a tight production schedule and the pressure to create
good TV-- but not necessarily good design.
Crafting realities
The application process
As Abby Thomas explained, "it all started with an ad in the [local
paper]." Abby and her daughter Beth spotted the ad and encouraged
Connie to apply. All were casual fans of the show, but neither Abby
nor Connie knew much about participating in the show. Abby didn't
even watch the show regularly, but Connie previously had mentioned in
passing that she would like to be on Trading Spaces. Both families
approached the application thinking primarily that it would be "a fun
experience." Still, everyone was quite savvy about marketing
themselves as ideal participants and promoting their houses as ideal
sites for redecoration.
The initial application stage requires would-be team members to
complete a packet with basic background information about the
families, their houses, and the rooms to be redone. They are also
required to submit photos of the room and of the teams. The Baker
and Thomas teams went beyond the requirements and submitted humorous
family photos along with portraits, photos of their neighborhood and
town (even recommending a hotel where the crew could stay), and
helpful hints about the nearest Home Depot (a major sponsor of the
show). They also included logistical information beyond what was
required that indicated a high level of awareness about production
requirements such as suggesting space to park the large crew truck
and set up the carpentry shop and pointing out that their newly
developed neighborhood was secluded and quiet so filming
interruptions and security concerns would be minimized. Finally,
their application materials indicated a familiarity with other tropes
of the show and the personalities of the various Trading Spaces
designers. They wrote that they were willing to "fall victim to the
whims of your designers" suggesting that they would be game
participants who would welcome bold designs.
After passing the first stage of the selection process, the families
were interviewed by phone and eventually a location scout was sent to
meet them and survey their homes. Before the scout's visit, the teams
were primed for their interview with him through preliminary
information sent by the production company. Among other things, this
material encouraged them to be "as outgoing as you can" and affirmed
how important it is to "sparkle and relax on camera." The families
approached this in-person interview with the same enthusiasm they
showed in completing the application packet and set about "seducing"
the location scout with an array of food and a party atmosphere.
However, they soon discovered that he was, as Abby Thomas explained,
"all business." Despite their clear display of knowledge about the
show, it is at this point that the Baker and Thomas families begin
their own transformation from well-informed fans to show participants
socialized to the requirements and norms of production.
During their interview with the location scout, the families were
introduced to the logistical concerns guiding the televised
redecorating. The rooms each team had chosen to redecorate were
quickly dismissed as possibilities as the scout explained that the
show's $1000 budget would not be sufficient for the task of
redecorating such large rooms. He guided them toward selecting
smaller rooms where the makeover would be more dramatic. Bedrooms
were also vetoed with the explanation that the show had already done
too many bedrooms. This is how the Baker's dining room and the
Thomas's guest room were hastily selected rather than the family
rooms each had initially proposed. Just a few minutes later, each
family was sitting in front of a camera explaining what redesign they
would like to see in the room more or less selected for them. Prior
to the location scout's visit they had put thought into transforming
the larger spaces, but they were now essentially re-imagining
decorating schemes on the fly. If selected for the program, these
videotapes would be the primary information the professional
designers had on which to base their plans. But these were also
audition tapes, so at this point, Connie and Abby report that they
wanted to be seen as easygoing, fun, risk takers. Connie explained,
"We were hamming it up to try to get on the show" but if they had it
to do over, in retrospect, "we would definitely try to be more honest
than trying to get on the show… I might have been more persuasive
about what I wanted." The families were already aware that they were
both positioning themselves as ideal applicants (sparkling for the
camera) and establishing their tastes and desired outcomes.
After this interview, both families were increasingly optimistic that
they would be selected. Once the good news came, they had roughly
one month to complete the preparatory work (signing contracts,
arranging a property assessment for insurance purposes, and
requesting the days of the shoot off from work and school) before the
crew arrived and the filming began.
The Shoot
The arrival of the crew for filming was no small affair; as the
families had been warned, Trading Spaces is a very large project
including 21 crew members, lights, cameras and equipment trucks. As
the trucks were unloaded, their houses were transformed into
"locations." All the filming takes place over three busy days,
although the redecorating work happens in just two days as presented
in the episodes. Throughout Day Zero (how the production crew refers
to the first day of filming before the redecorating begins on Day
One), the Baker and Thomas families were likewise transformed into
unscripted actors in the episode.
Filming began with the water balloon fight that would be used for the
opening sequence –the "goofing around shots" that are characteristic
of the Trading Spaces: Family format. The teams had originally
suggested going somewhere in their town to show off its natural
beauty and fun things to do, but the crew assured them that, in the
interest of time, a scene shot right in their driveway would be
fine. Day Zero filming also included interviews with each team about
what they would like to see in their own rooms and what
transformation they envisioned for their neighbor's rooms. These
conversations were essentially recreations of the impromptu
interviews done on camera with the location scout a month
earlier. However, the teams were not shown those videos or reminded
of what they had said. Beth Thomas explained to us that this
recreation may account for some of the discrepancies between what
families say they want in the episodes and what designers have
planned since what families request is likely to change between the
two interviews as they have more time to think things over. By the
end of Day Zero, the transformation of the family members into
episode characters was well underway. Their personas had been
established in the interviews and they had been directed as actors in
the water balloon scene. Furthermore, the privacy of their homes had
been radically altered with the addition of production
equipment. Connie wrote half-jokingly, "We have cameras somewhat
permanently attached to our walls, microphones to our bodies, and…
and… and glue guns?!? Say it isn't so."
On the first day of redecorating (Day One, but the second day of
filming), the families learned that what the program bills as two
days of redecorating is actually closer to twelve hours of work as
their design projects were woven into complex production
schedules. Early scenes including the "key swap," meeting with the
designers for the first time, and the "load out" (removing existing
furniture from the rooms) were shot swiftly and sequentially to
support the before and after structure of the program. However,
after that, filming was dominated by production needs and the teams
often found themselves waiting around to be called for their
"scenes." This scattered schedule allowed just two small camera
crews to film all the action, but it also served –whether
purposefully or not –to keep the families in suspense about specific
projects and reduce opportunities for creative disagreements.
In the Thomases' case, after shooting the initial meeting with their
designer and emptying the room, Abby and Scott were whisked away to
wait out of sight for at least an hour while their daughters Beth and
Kim, under the direction of their designer, Laura, began removing the
carpet from the Baker's dining room. Abby and Scott were told that
they were kept sequestered so that the cameras would be able to
record their surprised reaction, but Abby surmised that it might
really have been because the producers thought that adults would put
up a fight about removing perfectly good carpet while kids would
acquiesce to the design decision.
In fact, this pattern was repeated several times. In order to keep
up the work flow without interrupting shooting schedules, many
projects were begun without the whole team agreeing to – or even
knowing about - the design plan. Certain projects were begun entirely
by the off-camera crew without the presence of any team members. For
instance, Connie and Sam Baker arrived in the Thomases' backyard to
film a scene and discovered that the crew had already primed Abby's
new desk for painting so there was little point in objecting to the
decision even though they expressed dissatisfaction with the colors
the designer had chosen. Likewise, Connie explained that she would
have fought the decision to put slate tiles in the Thomases' studio,
but the crew "already had three rows down when we got there. Sam and
I looked at each other. Oh, it was bad." Overall, while the show
suggests that the homeowners and designers are completing the work on
each project, a great deal is actually done by behind-the-scenes crew
members; none of the team members worked on any sewing projects, but
Connie Baker and Scott Thomas both filmed sewing machine scenes. The
"actors" were also directed for scenes not directly related to design
projects. The Thomas family was asked to play musical chairs despite
their protests that it was a "dorky" thing to do. According to Abby,
the producer said, "Yeah, I know it's stupid. Come on, do it."
By the end of shooting, it is clear to the teams that everything is
"for the camera." When Abby and Kim Thomas complained about the
sloppy coats of red paint that the crew had applied to the dining
chairs for the Baker's room, they were assured that it would look
fine on camera. Connie Baker had a similar encounter when she
attempted to critique one crew member's haphazard painting as they
worked together on the mural in the Thomases' studio. She explained,
"It was at this time that I realized that we were the outsiders and
that these traveling people were their own 'family.' When I
[criticized] one, they all came to his defense." The crew's somewhat
cavalier attitude about their work stands in sharp contrast to the
homeowners' realization, as they received their "homework
assignments," that their labor was very real and often tedious.
Both teams were assigned to complete tiling projects in their
respective rooms after the production crew had left for the day, and
they set about doing so in a careful, professional manner once freed
from the crew's admonishments to hurry up and not worry because
everything will look good on camera. Both teams had previous tiling
experience and recognized that it was a job that shouldn't be rushed;
they reported working hard because they wanted it to be nice for
their friends. The Thomases also took advantage of their homework
time to attempt to improve upon the sloppy painting the crew had
begun on the chairs.
Their careful workmanship was undercut by the cast or crew in at
least two instances. In the Baker's freshly tiled dining room, the
designer walked in wearing spiky high heels and promptly cracked a
tile. There was no time to fix it properly, so a frustrated Scott
Thomas was only able to hide the flaw with black marker. In the
Thomases' studio, when a crew member joined in the work to mix grout
for the tiled floor, he accidentally splattered grout onto the
freshly painted wall, which the Bakers then had to painstakingly
clean before the grout dried.
As indicated in all of the above examples, the families had little
input or control over design decisions. This was due to the shooting
schedule, the vague way in which plans were explained to them, and
the fact that many elements were not explained until the last
minute. Connie explained that their designer, Barry, brought out
several items of furniture and decorative accessories only as they
were finishing the room. Consequently, the Bakers didn't have a
sense of the over all design until all the elements started coming
together a few hours before the reveal. As they worked on various
projects throughout Day One, Connie and Sam were left to trust that
ultimately everything would come together as a coherent design.
Editing: Some assembly required
The fact that scenes are shot out of sequence is not a surprise to
anyone at all familiar with conventions of production. In addition
to practical concerns of time efficiency, the disjointed shooting
schedule and subsequent editing of footage into a linear narrative
seemed to serve multiple purposes. This manner of filming allowed
mistakes made by the designers, carpenter and off-camera crew members
to be hidden. It also functions to enhance the appearance that the
teams are closely involved in making design decisions for their
neighbors' room.
As a practical matter, it makes sense that scenes of the designers
explaining their building projects to the carpenter would be shot on
Day Two after the projects have already been completed. By Day Two
much of the carpenter's work is completed, so he has time to shoot
and reshoot conversational scenes. For example, we witnessed the
designer Barry asking for a set of shelves that were in reality
already completed and stacked a few feet away off camera. Yet,
shooting these scenes out of order also allows for design mishaps to
be erased from the narrative so the designers retain power and
authority. As part of the same scene between designer and carpenter,
Barry explains his plan to put slate tiles on the floor. When the
carpenter replies that it is an ambitious project to tile the whole
floor, the designer replies that he is only tiling some of it. This
exchange suggests that Barry has designed a mixed floor plan with
some tiling, but in reality he had planned to do the entire floor but
ran over budget and had to return half of the tiles. The format of
Trading Spaces includes budget limitations in the narrative but this
budget miscalculation was erased from the episode.
Shooting the designers' chats with the carpenter on Day Two also
allowed for an intense conflict between the designer Laura and the
carpenter to be excluded from the narrative. When Laura discovered
that the carpenter had built her dining/poker table at a
significantly smaller size than she had wanted, the Thomases report
that she was livid with him for making that executive decision to
alter her plans. For the rest of the day the two of them reportedly
did not speak to each other. Yet, none of this is reflected in the
episode. When they discuss her plans, she mentions that her sketch
is drawn to scale and the carpenter teases her about her drafting
abilities, but that is the extent of the conversation. Surprisingly,
the editing of the episode does emphasize a different point of
tension with the carpenter. The host repeatedly accused him of
pouting about not being asked to help with the tiling projects. Both
the Thomases and the Bakers reported that they were surprised to see
this emphasis in the episode since it wasn't an issue at all during
the shoot.
Editing also allows for the erasure of sloppiness and voiced
concerns about the quality of work. As discussed above, the
families' concerns over the gloppy red chairs, the messy lines in the
mural and the cracked tile were not mentioned in the episode. When
mistakes are included, the designer's expertise is not threatened;
for instance, when designer Laura misapplied silver leafing to the
Baker's table, she cavalierly assured the team- and the camera -that
it could be fixed later. Yet, it never did get fixed in the episode
or in the real off-camera work process. The edited episode also does
not reveal that she did not really know how to apply the paint
technique she wanted to use in the room. Scott Thomas reported that
Laura simply decided to work by trial and error. Those experienced
with home improvement projects (both participants in the episode and
fans watching the show) would recognize these examples as
problematic. Indeed, on the on-line discussion boards for this
episode, fans wondered whether Laura had thought to add a protective
coating to the silver-leafed table and questioned the quality of
other projects that seemed hastily completed. The success of the
editing techniques can be seen in the fact that several of these fans
simply assumed that surely such details were worked out behind the scenes.
Most significantly, the editing of the episode also suggests that the
teams have extensive input into the design decisions or at least
approve the majority of the plans. In the episode, it seems that
each step of the redesign was discussed with the team early on and
they have ample opportunity to accept, modify or reject the
plans. This expectation is also supported by language in the packet
sent by the production company stating that design is a collaborative
process and team members should feel free to speak up. However,
avenues for input are effectively closed off by the disjointed
shooting schedule. Instead, scenes in which team members endorse
isolated design decisions are emphasized. In some cases, these
approval scenes involve only part of the team (the Thomas girls
enthusiastically ripping out carpet while their parents were kept in
the dark), were approved by the youngest member of the team (9-year
old Andrew endorsed the desk project in the Thomas's studio and the
building of a poker-table dining room), or were filmed well after the
projects were underway or completed. In fact, the team members had
just as little control over the designs for their neighbor's room as
they had had for their own room.
The contracts
All this is not to say that the Baker and Thomas families did not
enjoy their experience. Certainly they did enjoy themselves, but
their comments reveal that the experience was far from all
roses. The teams recognized that when they entered in they were
taking a risk –with their rooms and in appearing on national TV. The
contracts they signed offer them $75 for cleaning and the assurance
that changes to other areas of the property would be restored, but
the contract gave them little other protection. To get a full view
of the conditions of their participation, we need to take a closer
look at the contractual agreements limiting Trading Spaces's liability.
Each member of the teams signed two contracts with Banyan
Productions–a location liability release and an appearance release.
The location liability release provides the production company with
the right to use any area of the property as may be necessary and to
represent the property on film in the episode. This contract
stipulates that the production company cannot be held responsible for
dissatisfactory results in the redecorated room. The contract does
give the homeowners the opportunity to protect other areas of the
house or items in it by specifying these in writing in the
contract. In this case, neither team mentioned any additional items
or areas. They report that they just assumed that the crew would use
common sense and it didn't occur to them to list things like not
using the oriental rugs as a workspace or not setting up a project
area on a freshly seeded lawn. In retrospect, both families
indicated that they would consider this clause of the contract more
carefully if they had it to do over.
As for the appearance release, this contract gives Banyan and TLC
the right to represent the participants in any way, to use their
images, voices and personalities in the program, to promote the
program and in the future for unspecified purposes. In this case,
the two families thought that they were represented fairly and had no
complaints on that score. Had they any concerns about how they were
depicted, they would have had no legal recourse. Finally, this
contract and the location liability release both include
confidentiality clauses binding the participants to secrecy about
every aspect of the shoot, the redecoration and even the contract
itself until 5 days after the episode premiers. Violations of this
agreement are punishable by hefty $100,000 fines.
While the production process socializes the families as participants
and directable actors, the contracts cement their legal
vulnerability. They assume a substantial risk – financially, for
breaches of contract and personally, in opening up their homes for
radical redesigns. Presumably the redecorated room valued at $1000
(or $1600 fair market value for tax purposes) is their reward, but as
the discussion above indicates, once engaged these two families
quickly realized that participating in Trading Spaces: Family isn't
about the design, it's about making TV.
Discussion
Making good TV, in this case study of a Trading Spaces: Family
episode, seems to hinge on strategies for containing banal reality
and constructing a preferred reality. Significantly, this
necessitated that the artistic process of redecorating the two rooms
become a secondary concern. We found that this happens in three main
ways that mirror the themes suggested by the literature on reality TV
more broadly. Contractual agreements, narratives constructed through
editing and a reliance on format all significantly shaped the
experiences of the Baker and Thomas families. This actuality is
obscured from the televised reality.
In this case study, the contracts participants signed did not cause
or mitigate any major legal conflicts. Without explosive legal
battles to point to, it might be easy to conclude that the contracts
are merely a formality and that they don't shape the process in a
meaningful way. However, our analysis indicates that the legal
agreements give the production crew broad authority to use houses as
sets, furnishings as props, and homeowners as actors. Further, the
financial liabilities the families incur for breaches of the
contracts effectively secure their cooperation throughout the
production process.
As for narrative through editing, this case study did not reveal
clear instances of participants being painted as villains or heroes
as in the examples Patkin (2003) cited from Survivor: Australian
Outback. But, as Couldry (2004) suggested, the editing does reveal
the process by which some behaviors, attitudes or meanings are "ruled
in" while others "ruled out." We found that the crew's sloppy work
and the designers' mistakes were ruled out of the constructed reality
through editing choices. Echoing Shufeldt's (2004) finding,
selective editing in this instance did place the designers in
positions of authority. The show's selective reflexivity regarding
schedule, budgets, and labor also serves to rule out the complexity
of DIY home improvement in favor of the view that DIY redecoration
can be done quickly, cheaply and by anyone –even children- and still
look good. This finding raises provocative questions about the
specific ways in which reality home makeover programs serve to
support consumption in the home improvement industry (and at stores
like Home Depot, a leading sponsor of Trading Spaces: Family).
Our findings suggest that the most significant mode of containing
and constructing reality occurred through strict adherence to the
proven Trading Spaces format. The format allows the production crew
to have a clear picture of what scenes need to be shot even though
they are ostensibly working without a script; unlike in some of the
docusoap programs, the families were not constantly under the gaze of
the cameras. Instead they were called in for "scenes" as the format
dictated. As any Trading Spaces fan could attest, typical scenes in
the format include the "key swap," the "load out," team members
sewing, team members working with power tools in "Carpentry World,"
designers assigning homework, and of course, "the reveal." We found
that the redecorating work at the heart of the show is entirely
organized around filming these requisite scenes. The format provides
a common set of expectations for the crew and the producers; to the
extent that participants were aware of the show's format, it also
serves to shape their expectations. However, as we saw, even such
well-informed fans as the Bakers and the Thomases did not anticipate
how much the technical aspects of filming would outweigh the design
process. While the families were concerned with completing their
design projects in a professional manner, the producers were
primarily concerned with filming just a few minutes of each project
underway. While we were not able to collect information regarding the
budget for producing an episode of Trading Spaces: Family, it is
clear that, in general, reliance on format is time-efficient and
cost-effective (Madger, 2004; Moran, 2004). In this case study we
observed that indeed the work is done in a short amount of time and
with a limited crew.
Clearly, the format of Trading Spaces has been hugely successful.
However, observations drawn from on-line fan discussions and reviews
of the most recent debuts in the transformation TV subgenre indicate
that this particular format may have grown stale. As of this writing,
speculation among fans suggests that Trading Spaces: Family won't be
renewed for a third season and that the original Trading Spaces may
end after its upcoming sixth season. Meanwhile new shows with
formats based more on philanthropy have garnered accolades.
Ironically, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and Town Haul, the leading
examples of this new style, star former cast members of Trading
Spaces. Is the decline of Trading Spaces a natural evolution or does
it reflect a frustration with the nature of a format that does not
significantly empower its participants?
Conclusions
Our analysis indicated that Trading Spaces: Family's claim to
represent the unscripted redecorating mayhem when two families trade
houses was not borne out by the experiences of the Baker and Thomas
families. They enjoyed the experience, but they concluded
definitively that the process was much more about making a television
show than about making good design. The realities of their
experiences –including an incoherent work routine, little or no input
into design choices, and the crew's acceptance of sloppy work—were
not visible in the televised episode chronicling their room
switch. Rare among studies of reality TV programs, the present study
contributes a detailed sense of the discrepancies between actualities
of participating in reality/transformation TV and the constructed
reality that is aired on television from the perspective of the
participants themselves. Because this study followed the Baker and
Thomas families throughout the process from application to
completion, we were able to understand how they themselves were
socialized into the production process from an early position as
eager fans of the show to participants who ultimately felt they
learned a lot about TV but nothing about design.
Clearly the present research is a case study of two families and one
television show and consequently cannot be generalized, but our
research demonstrates the utility of this approach and sheds some
light on the transformation TV genre. Following Moran's (2004)
suggestion that format is useful as an analytic category for
understanding creative and economic impacts, our finding that the
format of Trading Spaces: Family (and the family of Trading Spaces
shows) dictates that good design is a secondary concern raises
significant questions about the premise and promise of such
participatory DIY programs. We commonly assume that fans apply to be
on these shows because they are seeking celebrity interior decorating
and empowerment for transforming their living spaces, but our
research suggests they are more likely to get a lesson in television
production.
References
Allen, R.C. & Hill, A. (Eds.). (2004). The television studies reader.
New York: Routledge.
Couldry, N. (2004). Teaching us to fake it: The ritualized norms of
televisions "reality" games. In S. Murray & L. Ouellette (Eds.),
Reality TV: Remaking television culture (pp. 57-74). New York: New
York University Press.
Everett, A. (2004). Trading private and public spaces @ HGTV and
TLC: On new genre formations in transformation TV. Journal of Visual
Culture, 3(2), 157-181.
Freydkin, D. (2003, July 1). Trading Spaces making room for more
makeovers. USA Today, p. 8d.
Gates, A. (2005, February 11). These old houses: A TV genre is
built. New York Times, p. E1.
Godard, E. (2003). Reel life: The social geometry of reality
shows. In M.J. Smith & A.F. Wood (Eds.), Survivor lessons: Essays on
communication and reality television (pp. 73-96). Jefferson, NC:
McFarland & Company, Inc.
Glaser, B.J. & Strauss, A.L. (1967). The discovery of grounded
theory: Strategies for qualitative research. Chicago: Aldine.
Halbert, D. (2003). Who owns your personality: Reality television and
publicity rights. In M.J. Smith & A.F. Wood (Eds.), Survivor
lessons: Essays on communication and reality television (pp. 37-56).
Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company, Inc.
Hall, A.S. & Hebert, L. (2004, August). The evolution of the
makeover from print to television: An analysis of the social
construction of female body image. Paper presented at the meeting of
the Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication,
Toronto, Canada.
Heller, D. (2004). Taking the nation from drab to fab: Queer Eye for
the Straight Guy. Feminist Media Studies, 4(3), 347-350.
Kompare, D. (2004). Extraordinary ordinary: The Osbournes as "An
American Family." In S. Murray & L. Ouellette (Eds.), Reality TV:
Remaking television culture (pp. 97-116). New York: New York University Press.
Kraszewski, J. (2004). Country hicks and urban cliques: Mediating
race, reality and liberalism on MTV's The Real World. In S. Murray &
L. Ouellette (Eds.), Reality TV: Remaking television culture (pp.
179-196). New York: New York University Press.
Madger, T. (2004). The end of TV 101: Reality programs, formats and
the new business of television. In S. Murray & L. Ouellette (Eds.),
Reality TV: Remaking television culture (pp. 137-156). New York: New
York University Press.
Moran, A. (2004). The pie and the crust: Television program
formats. In R.C. Allen & A. Hill (Eds.), The television studies
reader (pp. 182-195). New York: Routledge.
Murray, S. (2004). "I think we need a new name for it": The meeting
of documentary and reality TV. In S. Murray & L. Ouellette (Eds.),
Reality TV: Remaking television culture (pp. 40-56). New York: New
York University Press.
Murray, S. & L. Ouellette (Eds.). (2004). Reality TV: Remaking
television culture. New York: New York University Press.
Paget, D. (2004). Codes and conventions of dramadoc and
docudrama. In R.C. Allen & A. Hill (Eds.), The television studies
reader (pp. 182-195). New York: Routledge.
Patkin, T. R. (2003). Individual and cultural identity in the world
of reality television. In M.J. Smith & A.F. Wood (Eds.), Survivor
lessons: Essays on communication and reality television (pp.
11-26). Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company, Inc.
Raphael, C. (2004). The political economic origins of Realit-TV. In
S. Murray & L. Ouellette (Eds.), Reality TV: Remaking television
culture (pp. 119-136). New York: New York University Press.
Ryan, M. (Ed.). (2004). Narrative across media: The languages of
storytelling. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press.
Shufeldt, M. (2004, May). Decorating power: A textual analysis of
homeowner agency in Trading Spaces. Paper presented at the meeting
of the International Communication Association, New Orleans, LA.
Smith, M. J. & Wood, A.F. (Eds.). (2003). Survivor lessons: Essays on
communication and reality television. Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company, Inc.
Syvertsen, T. (2001). Ordinary people in extraordinary
circumstances: A study of participants in television dating games.
Media, Culture & Society, 23: 319-337.
Wallendorf, M. & Arnould,E. (1991). We gather together: Consumption
rituals of Thanksgiving Day. ÊJournal of Consumer Research, 18,13-31.
[1] For the 2001-2002 season, Trading Spaces production costs were
just $.09 million per episode. By comparison, Survivor's budget
reached $1.4 million, but even this pales in comparison to the $7
million budget of the half-hour sitcom Friends (Madger, 2004).
[2] Pseudonyms are used for all family participants.
|
