
There’s a story behind every story. And being in the business of creating stories and emotion, I’m fascinated by studying this week’s biggest internet fable: the video of Susan Boyle’s amazing debut on Britain’s Got Talent. (As usual, I’m a little behind the curve – this story broke four days ago, but I just saw the video yesterday.)
I watched the clip with many of the same emotions as everyone else: astonishment, wonder, and a growing sense of vicarious pride in the achievement of an everywoman who lived The Dream by walking onto the world stage and, against all cynical expectation, blew the rafters off and brought ‘em to their feet. I wept as I watched, weep still every time I see it, partly because I’m a big old crybaby, partly because I want to believe that The Dream still comes to those who deserve it.
But as I’ve watched it a few more times, I’ve come to admire something else: the canny, strategic way the show’s producers set up and sold Ms. Boyle’s successful performance.
You’ve seen this kind of big, emotional moment countless times before on reality TV. The millionaire bachelor’s heartfelt marriage proposal and his month-long girlfriend’s joyous tears. The humble, nerdy fashion designer who triumphs over his scheming opportunist opponent by sheer talent and pluck. Yes, these moments are real… and yes, they’re absolutely staged.
Ms. Boyle walked onstage, straight from her cottage in Blackburn, Scotland, and uncorked a killer performance of “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Miserables. But think: where did she get that beautiful, full-orchestra backing track? She certainly didn’t bring it with her to the auditions: you can’t find karaoke tracks that good in West Lothian. Either she’s a seasoned professional with her own high-grade material, or the music was provided for her by the show. Consider further: the Les Miz music continued seamlessly as emotional orchestral scoring under the judges’ commentary, climaxing majestically on Simon’s final comment: “it’s three yesses.” Hmm.
Mind you, I’m not implying that the competition was rigged in any underhanded way. Rather, the show’s producers simply used a bit of theater to heighten the moment.
Here’s what I assume happened. Ms. Boyle auditions for the BGT screeners, who instantly know they’ve found a fine voice. They bring her to the show’s producers, who agree she's a likely contender. Okay, they think –- she can sing, but christ, she’s almost fifty! Overweight and kind of goofy. Will people like her? Should we get her a hair stylist and a new dress?
But then, they realize: no. Don’t try to make her look better. Instead, let’s play into her simple appearance and modest background. It’ll make an incredible surprise when she cuts loose, and she’ll come off much better due to diminished expectations Don't touch her hair, and tell her to keep wearing that darling yellow frock.
Next, they pull her music track together. The song choice is brilliant -– an aching lament for a life of choices made and love lost -– probably suggested by the show. (Note that since Ms. Boyle's never been kissed, they skip the salacious lyrics about He spent a summer by my side/He filled my days with endless wonder.) No idea if they have a library of professional needle-drop tracks on hand, or if — more intriguingly —they custom record it for her. During the segment they cut to a hand pressing a button on an audio system, as if she’s brought her own CD along. But clearly someone goes to the trouble to make sure that despite her small-town looks, she has a big-time sound. It's a subtle touch, but all-important; imagine if she’d sung to a cheap Casio rendition of the same song.
Finally, they write (and later edit) the entire segment to set up Ms. Boyle as a bit of a goofball, a small-town bumpkin. The breathless hosts open the segment by lamenting how they haven't seen any great talent yet, and here’s someone who "says she can sing." Cut to Ms. Boyle eating a sandwich. Everything is designed to make her seem sweet but a bit dotty. We're perfectly programmed to doubt her talent; so when she cuts loose, it seems like a miracle.
I have no idea how long this process took. It could have been hours, days, or even weeks if they took the time to assemble a full backing track for her. But she sure didn't walk on stage direct from the audition room.
Please understand. I mean to take nothing away from Ms. Boyle’s talent, nor do I think the BGT producers did anything sneaky or unethical. Neither do I think the judges were informed that they had a “live wire” coming up. It was essential to keep them in the dark, in order to capture their wonderful expressions as the performance unfolded. Simon Cowell may have been prompted to ask her those particular questions about her age and ambition in order to further set up her improbable story, but I think his reaction to her talent is genuine. (Of course, it's possible Cowell was in on the whole thing, knew exactly what was coming, and simply played along. Judge not lest he be judged.)
Imagine, though, if she’d given exactly the same performance — after being introduced as “Scotland’s newest and greatest singing sensation” and sweeping onstage in a shimmering gold Versace gown? The audience would have applauded politely, and the judges’ remarks would have been much less adulatory.
So I’m not suggesting that the show’s fixed, or that the woman’s talent is fake. Susan Boyle’s debut was carefully staged theater, but the woman herself appears honest, sweet and genuinely talented.
I’m just one professional, admiring the handiwork of another. This is what we do, kids. And it wasn’t just a frumpy forty-seven-year-old spinster who hit all the right notes on Saturday.