The Resort offers participation at a price

By FRANCES GRANT

As an advertisement for its own product, The Resort (TV3, 7.30pm) is a strange way to lure people to a tropical-island getaway.

It's hard to imagine anyone paying good money to take a break in a place which, on the strength of last week's opening instalment, seems like it's going to serve chiefly as an arena for extended catfights.

Still, for $1490 you, too, could party in this Fiji island paradise, being renovated and run by bitchy blondes, carping brunettes and a mixed bag of stud muffins. If there's one thing we've learned from the reality telly phenomenon, it's that it is impossible to overestimate the appeal of being on TV.

The Resort takes viewer interaction one step further than the likes of the Idol franchise. Instead of just getting to vote people off, viewers can become part of the show by buying a package deal to this resort in the Mamanucas group. Attention-seekers can do their best to pull focus, and soak up the tropical sun and cocktails, too.

Further inducement to holidaymakers is the promised presence of Australian Idol runner-up Shannon Noll. Meanwhile, rockstar host Jon Stevens is brother of NZ Idol judge Frankie Stevens. How the reality shows do converge.

The rules of The Resort are as murky as the rundown resort's swimming pool, but it appears that some of the 15 wannabe managers are in for the chop. Not all will pass the challenge to get the derelict former timeshare ready to receive its first contingent of guests. The show has had its teething problems, too, with a minor boating accident between cast member Erik (the one who keeps manhandling the women) and a couple of members of the crew.

The cast have a mystery element. We don't learn where they're from exactly but are fed morsels of information in often tacky subtitles, such as the guy who "Can't live without porn".

The lucky 15 are all single and under-35. There's obviously been a bodyshape criterion, too, as they certainly beat the standard bell curve distribution in terms of how they look in skimpy beachwear. And the show has its requisite mean judge, a veteran Fiji resort owner who, with Stevens, is more than ready to crack the whip.

The Resort has its fascinations. As the blondes hiss and yowl, it comes across as Lord of the Flies meets Muriel's Wedding. You half expect Sophie Lee to emerge and spit, "You can't speak to me like that - I'm byoodiful!"

Another striking feature of The Resort is that it makes Aussie suburban nightmare comedy Kath and Kim look like a reality show. You can just see Kim and Sharon getting right into some of the resort's planned attractions: "Dr Love's drinking games" and a beach barbie where "everyone has to wear white".

The female contingent of the cast is fairly bristling with "hornbags". Chief among them is Tabs, who also does a nice line in Kim-style mangled English, for example, wondering when rival hornbag Eva's gigantic hoop earrings will "rip out her earballs".

In just one episode, Tabs has already had a legendary blonde moment: "I know how to respect my own privacy while I'm doing my own interview," she screams at Eva, who has interrupted Tabs' pontifications to camera. Pardon?

Tabs may not be the brightest bikini on the beach but she knows what she's there for. "I know how to create television." Like-minded creative types need only buy a ticket to join the fun.

Shrinking violets and those whose ego is only of modest proportions be warned: for you this latest twist on the renovation-reality-sand'n'sex genre could turn into Holidays from Hell.