KEY POINTS:
With nothing weightier than greed and luck in its little cases, it's little wonder that game show Deal or No Deal is such a successful international traveller. There is not much to get lost in translation.
A local version of the format show, which has been a hit
in dozens of countries, sashayed into prime time on TV3 last week (7.30pm), hosted by Jeremy Corbett, accompanied by a pre-feminist bevy of 26 beauties and giving us another good reason to bemoan the downsides of globalism.
Deal or No Deal makes Who Wants to Be a Millionaire or The Weakest Link look like genius level competitions. There are no mastermind quiz questions, or even odd trivia, to distract anyone in this show, which exploits the axiom "keep it simple, stupid".
Deal or No Deal is a guessing game that even a preschooler can play. It features 26 briefcases, each containing an amount ranging from 10c to $200,000. The contestant has to choose one of these as a prize but cannot open it. The player picks the remaining cases to be opened in rounds - each big sum revealed reduces the odds that the prize suitcase contains big bucks.
After each round, the "banker", a character seen only in silhouette, calculates the odds and offers a cash buyout for the player's mystery case. The player can choose to take the sure thing or play on and risk the offer reducing to nothing.
The cases are each held and opened by a glistening, compliant female model with her frontal assets jiggling alluringly in clingy gold frocks. The game is thus weighted unfairly in favour of women contestants, far less susceptible to being bedazzled by all that cleavage.
Certainly, last week's first contestant, an accountant called Kate, didn't let the beauties put her off her game, although her dad in the support crew seemed impressed. Kate came in with a "strategy" which appeared to consist of liking certain numbers and leaving the luckiest numbers to last. Who knew accountants were so superstitious?
But unless you are a rare mathematical genius who can reckon averages and odds instantaneously, Deal or No Deal is game of chance, which fully exploits the human propensity to take a gamble or, even better, watching someone else take the risk. The higher the stakes the better, judging by the increase in volume in the audience's yells to refuse the deal as the game progressed.
Kate went home $21,000 richer than when she arrived and having proved that to get on this show you need the essential qualities of being able to emote all over the set - even into the arms of host Jeremy Corbett, a tad taken aback at getting makeup on his finance-man grey suit.
Despite its stupidity, this show is worryingly compelling - there is a psychological fascination about watching how people deal with risk as the pressure goes on and rationality flies out of the door.
Deal or No Deal certainly builds a tension probably irresistible to those who enjoy a flutter, although it's so repetitive and limited, it's hard to see it having much staying power. But you know what they say about underestimating public taste and making money: somebody hopes to be laughing all the way to the bank.
