Flak Magazine: Review of Series 7, 4-10-01

In 1996, when Daniel Minahan began writing the screenplay for Series 7, "reality television" meant "COPS" and "Springer" and "World's Most Topless Police Chases," and the very idea of a "Survivor"-like reality game show — the idea that Series 7 carries to the nth degree — would have been revolutionary. (Well, if you don't count The Running Man.)

But in 2001, "revolutionary" is hardly a word you can apply to something that casts a critical eye at reality TV. If all that could be said about Series 7 is that it excoriated reality TV for exploiting its subjects and tempting viewers' basest instincts, it wouldn't be any more worthwhile than the latest jeremiad bemoaning the same faults on any given newspaper's op-ed page. The shortcomings of television are favorite targets for on-high castigation from film and print media, but with respect to reality TV, it's reached the point where each same-looking float in the hate parade is a diatribe too far.

The difference is that Series 7 isn't a sour-pussed philippic; instead, it's a howlingly hilarious fusion of parody, satire and human comedy more electric than anything that's unspooled recently. Structured as a marathon of the seventh season (hence the name) of the hit TV show "The Contenders," the movie opens on last season's closer: the pregnant and frazzled Dawn (Brooke Smith) half-waddling, half-storming into a convenience store and firing a pistol into the back of a seemingly anonymous man.

This less-than-gladiatorial battle imparts not only the premise but the soul of "The Contenders": six everyday folk (ostensibly chosen through an unexplained mandatory lottery) are given handguns and camera crews and are left to run free in an urban area or small town; the last man standing (i.e., alive) wins. Win for three seasons and you can leave; operating under her "I'll do anything for my baby" mantra, Dawn has two down and one remaining — and her last go-round is set in her hometown of Newbury, Conn.

The humor's three tiers have varying shelf lives. The parody itself provokes a lot of chuckles, with its clutter-centric graphics and "how-did-you-feel-about-that" interviews — Minahan and crew have reality TV down cold, and the risk of never breaking from the format pays off in spades. As funny as it is, however, taking such specific inspiration may keep it from aging as well as such takes on the broader documentary form as Albert Brooks's 1979 Real Life or Rob Reiner's 1984 This is Spinal Tap.

The satire has somewhat longer legs — this kind of exploitation is a constant undercurrent in mass entertainment — but Minahan doesn't dig in deep enough to wonder why we're so attracted to it. That level of insight might be more memorable than the broad pokes taken by Series 7, but the show's inspired, spiralling lunacy nevertheless provides plenty of laughs.

The truest humor is the character stuff, however, and the movie's success in this arena is what sets it apart from the one-note tedium it could have easily been. Dawn's labor, as overseen by one of her fellow contenders, is underscored by the gun battle that preceded it and with which they aren't entirely finished, which is funny enough, but mixing in Thanksgiving-dinner type arguments about single motherhood seals the deal and leaves you breathless with laughter. Each viewer will probably leave with a different highlight — the segment set to Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart" suggests itself, or the spat between the teen contender and her parents, or maybe even just the last shot — but the encouraging fact is that there are so many to choose from.

Minahan hasn't let his gimmick overwhelm his storytelling skills, filling Series 7 with all sorts of subtle moments that tell the story beneath the story and making the most of the unreliable-narrator fallacy with its conclusion. It may draw too many comparisons to The Blair Witch Project for its low-budget spunkiness, its hand-held mockumentary approach and its likely popularity (and backlash), but like that movie, it deconstructs moviemaking so well and gets what it's after — in this case, laughs — so ruthlessly that it shouldn't be missed. Don't read that as "If you liked The Blair Witch Project, you'll love Series 7!" — they're totally different creatures, and Series 7 is unlikely to inspire as many detractors. But both serve as world-class models of how much further ingenuity is likely to take you than unfettered big bucks. It's not clear where Minahan is going from here, but so long as he maintains the wit and intelligence on display in Series 7, he can probably go wherever he wants.

— Sean Weitner (sean@flakmag.com)