Chasing our version of The Chase
It was only when Sale Of The Century debuted in 1989 that national notoriety came along with potentially a waterbed, a car and a boot-load of cash. And yes, members of my family appeared on virtually all of these, albeit with mixed success.
My father, who was a National Radio Quiz Kid in his youth, just missed out on a semifinal spot on Mastermind (hampered somewhat by his specialist subject being The History of Newspapers in New Zealand), my oldest brother chose prizes over victory on Sale, and my middle brother wended his way from Academic to Challenge to Krypton, raising Dr Smith’s ire by refusing to follow his edicts and completely ruining our washing machine by failing to get all the mud out of his tracksuit while slogging his way to fourth in his year’s Krypton Factor final.
Sadly, my attempts at quiz fame were thwarted by a succession of bizarre coincidences. My intermediate decided not to enter anyone on the final season of W3. Having been named as an
It’s Academic reserve in fourth form (losing out to the principal’s son), TVNZ then cancelled the show the following year. As for Sale, I passed its ‘‘test’’, but never got the call-up.
All I have to console myself is a sole appearance on TVNZ 2’s 2004’s Olympics-themed Grand Champion, where I got the second-highest score in all of the heats. Unfortunately, the highest score was also in the same heat.
It was by that stage though, that Three and TVNZ had clearly fallen out of love with quiz shows. They seemed more interested in programmes that potentially humiliated contestants, rather than celebrated them (something made clear by the reduction in questions per episode from 1980s-era Mastermind’s roughly 150 to short-lived Australian-import’s 1 vs. 100’s half-dozen or so).
You could be berated by Louise Wallace on The Weakest Link, belittled by Dominic Bowden and his pint-sized companions on Are You Smarter Than a 10-Year-Old? or bamboozled by Mike Hosking’s bizarre hosting style on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire NZ?
The latter was a perfect example of how the state broadcaster had lost its way when it came to quiz shows.
Bizarrely shot in Melbourne on the Australian set, it was never going to be sustainable, especially with the compere at his most smug, and so it was that a local version of the then biggest quiz show format in the world lasted only 10 episodes, before being ditched.
We can’t just blame one broadcaster though. It seems inexplicable that it took until 2010 (seven years after it debuted) for New Zealanders to be able to see the BBC’s wonderful QI (and we’re still about four years behind Britain) and that both Eggheads and Pointless can no longer be viewed on our shores (especially when half of The Chase’s jokes are about their ‘‘enmity’’ with the latter).
Some may argue that there has been an uptick, particularly in British quiz shows, on our screens in the past year or two, but most of these are more about the celebrity presenting them and the impediments placed in front of the contestant than an opportunity to showcase and celebrate general or specific knowledge.
Honestly, the less said the better about The Wheel With Michael McIntyre, Gordon Ramsay’s Bank Balance and Quizness with Tom Allen.
Meanwhile, homegrown quiz show 9 Lives is far too convoluted to really compel and Whakaata Maori’s Lucky Dip is really more about the laughs than the questions.
Thank goodness then, we lovers of quiz shows at least have Prime’s weekday dose of Jeopardy! (currently showcasing the incredible, all-time records-threatening Amy Schneider) and Whitebait Productions’ Brain Busters.
Now in its third year, it offers perhaps our best chance of fostering a new generation of McDoualls, Gaskins, Medlicotts, McDonnells and Bolts.
A hybrid of W3 and The Krypton Factor, the Christchurch-shot series allows 12- and 13-yearolds a chance to demonstrate their wide-ranging knowledge (and some physical skills) and enjoy a brief moment in the spotlight.
Having got them – and audiences – hooked, we need the networks to invest in shows that allow them to shine as they get older, rather than spending money on celebrities making fools of themselves playing charades, or singing while under a mask.