First order of business: the Clarion West Write-a-Thon has started! As it only started yesterday, though, I don’t have much to report yet, especially since I’ve been working the past few nights. (I do a lot of my writing at night, when sane people in the same time zone are dreaming of sugar plums — or whatever else people dream of during the non-Christmas season.) Look for an update near the end of the week.
Now, let’s get to what really matters: reality television.
As a general rule, I’m not that big into reality TV. There are shows I like — Face Off, for one, or So You Think You Can Dance because bite me, I’m a girl, and I like dancing. (Cause, dude. Why can’t I dance like this? Or this. DAMN.) And when I’m looking for pratfalls and snark, Wipe-Out can be a fun way to spend an hour. But shit like The Bachelor, Real Housewives of Wherever, American Idol, anything with a Kardashian . . . it’s not my thing. Even the shows I do enjoy . . . I don’t really care if I miss an episode or two. I will not break down in tears if my DVR inexplicably stops recording Toddlers & Tiaras. (Note: I have never actually watched this show. I suspect it might induce an aneurysm.)
But as of last night, that might have all changed because I watched the premiere of this:
Here’s the basic premise of Whodunnit?, if you don’t feel like watching the promo: thirteen strangers stay in a mansion — called the Rue Manor cause obviously — and try to solve a murder. (A supposed murder, clearly. I refuse to do quote marks.) Not every contestant gets access to the same bits of evidence, though, so players have to be strategic about what information to share and what to keep to themselves. Each contestant then guesses how the victim was killed, and the person who does the worst job of it is the next to be axed. For added levels of intrigue, the murderer is actually one of the contestants, so neither the audience nor the players know exactly who to trust. (As an aside: if the host turns out to have been the killer all along, I will be significantly pissed. That’s no fun at all.)
Now that I’ve watched the premiere, let me tell you guys: Whodunnit? is camp to the max. It’s also perfectly aware that it’s camp to the max, which means that we have incredibly overelaborate murders, contestants in matching Estate pajamas, and a butler-host named Giles (Gildart Jackson) who — depending on the given moment — will either be dramatically announcing, “It has begun!” or offering up plushy socks. LOVE.
This show actually has a pretty clever hook, and some of the contestants are surprisingly funny. I mean, some of them are still pretty obnoxious, but I laughed out loud a couple times. Quote of the Day goes to Ulysses: “Right off the bat, red flags: the morgue is just downstairs. It’s not like we’re driving to the morgue. The morgue is in the house.”
If you’re looking for a serious mystery . . . look not here. Seriously, this is not the place. But if you, like me, have a love for self-aware cheesiness and MUUUUURDER, well, Whodunnit? looks pretty fun.
2 thoughts on “A Reality Show I Could Actually Get Addicted To”
“Toddlers in tiaras inducing an aneurysm” (LOVE it…altho I did have to look up how to spell aneurysm…love, Papa
Hee. I’m horrified enough by the promos for that show. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t make it through a whole episode.