Category: TV

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By Shailesh Kapoor

 

On November 1, 2015, Colors launched Naagin as a bi-weekly weekend series. It was an experimental move, albeit a judicious one, not involving the budgets of some big-ticket reality shows that guzzle up the dollars and give little in return (18 new reality shows launched on Hindi GECs since 2012 never saw a second season, because they failed at the first instance).

 

Now 19 weeks old, Naagin is an unqualified television blockbuster. It rates more than 30 per cent higher than the No 2 programme in most weeks, and has touched ratings that were believed to be impossible in today’s fragmented viewing environment. It is also a gender-unifier, age-unifier and market-unifier, rolled into one, a critical factor for the success of a weekend property.

 

Evidently, Naagin has been the talk of the media industry as well, generating a mix of emotions, ranging from surprise, amazement and awe, in that chronological order. There has been considerable stereotyping as well. Not too many media executives (non-GEC broadcasters, planners, buyers and brand heads) have watched much of the show. Every now and then, I have heard remarks like: “If Naagin is the No 1 show, there is no hope for any change in Indian television” or “the Indian audience are getting the trash they deserve.”

 

This misplaced elitism amuses me. Truth be told, Naagin, in fact, captures a very significant “change” in Indian television. And that point is probably being missed across the board, even by many GECs. A first step to understanding this “change” is to understand why Naagin is doing so well. The thought cloud above captures the reasons why viewers love Naagin.

 

The pace, treatment and presentation of Naagin is a cut above even the most successful fiction shows on Hindi GECs today. Designed as a finite series brings a sense of purpose to the show, and the story actually moves every episode, unlike many other serials where nothing really happens even over four long weeks.

 

Its exciting pace creates the intrigue and suspense that a thriller needs, but often lacks. The visual presentation is top-notch. A quick glance at the cloud above and you will know that costumes, casting, make-up, sets and visual effects form an important element of Naagin’s success. These elements are considered merely hygiene in weekday fiction, never the differentiators.

 

Importantly, the nature of the entertainment provided by Naagin is unequivocally escapist. It does not carry any burden of inspiring the Indian women audience and giving them the confidence or resilience to fight challenges in their own life. It is just pure entertainment, free of messaging of any sort.

 

There have been other finite series in the recent past, none of which have delivered even 25 per cent of Naagin’s ratings. Many were questioning the merits of finite series after the high-budget experiments misfired. But Naagin has proven that if the concept selection is right, finite series, handled with a sense of pace and purpose, can be lucrative business.

 

Since 2000, Hindi television has been largely reduced to daily fiction content, airing 5-7 days a week, where the pace is languid, the production at best serviceable, the treatment is very “afternoon soap-ish”. Naagin is unlike all of that, and in that, it fills the need gap that exists – of fast-paced, finite fiction content.

 

Many have asked me if Naagin would have worked on weekdays too. I believe that if it was the exact same show that it is today, broken into four half-hours every week, it would have worked equally well. But if it were a daily, it may not have been this exact show after all. The tendency could have been to apply the daily-soap rules, slow down the pace, save on production budgets after the launch period, and go into assembly line mode sooner than later. And that’s why it would not have worked equally well.

 

Far from being regressive, Naagin could be the start of some significant progress Hindi television could make, if it chooses to see Naagin beyond being a “snake show”. The real reasons of its success are a lot more interesting than that.

 

By Shailesh Kapoor

 

It’s been a thrilling fortnight for Indian cricket fans. Starting with the India-Pakistan game two Saturdays ago at Kolkata, they have been treated to three steroid-like doses of entertainment. Beating Pakistan is always a high for any Indian cricket viewer, but the electrifying end to the Bangladesh game matched some of the most exciting moments Indian cricket has witnessed over the years.

 

As if that was not exhilarating enough, the team backed it up with another adrenaline-packed performance this Sunday, beating Australia. Taking the chase deep into the last three overs, the team relied on the genius of a young star, who announced himself yet again at the world stage that night, this time in a way that was tough for even the most cynical to ignore.

 

By the time you read this, the ratings for the first two of these three games will be out. It is certain that the India-Pakistan game will set a new BARC record, beating the India-Pakistan Asia Cup game earlier this year. And if India reach the final, the India-England final this Sunday is highly likely to beat that record, even if the India-Australia game doesn’t manage to.

 

T20 Cricket, thus, has turned out to be reality television of the purest form. It’s unscripted (though some may debate this fact) and it’s edge-of-the-seat. This World Cup, in particular, may have brought many new and lapsed viewers to cricket, what with all the entertainment surrounding these three (and potentially two more) India games.

 

This fortnight of cricket’s mega success has a lesson or two for reality television. The games that won our hearts have been characterised by elements most reality shows should aspire to have, if they have to acquire cult status and blockbuster viewership.

 

There are four such things, in particular: Unscripted entertainment, fast-paced action that keeps you glued to the TV, a robust format and fan following.

 

Most Indian reality shows today are either overtly scripted, or are unscripted but engineered or programmed to unfold in a certain way. For example, by giving a particular task or creating a particular situation, you force the participants or jury or host to react in a certain way. About a decade ago, this worked, because reality television was new to India and most viewers didn’t really have much of an understanding of formats. As time has passed, they have become educated reality television viewers, perfectly capable of sniffing out the fixes. There may be not such thing as “it’s scripted but will appear unscripted to the viewers” anymore.

 

The pace of action in the recent India games, especially the last six overs in the Australia game, will put even the best of reality television to shame. The idea of time is redefined every decade, I guess. What was one hour a decade ago may seem like 75 minutes now. Hence, you need to give more in less time, to avoid falling into the boredom trap. Yet, reality formats have, if anything, slowed down in their execution pace over these years, often with the temptation of getting more episodes on-air.

 

The importance of a robust format cannot be overstated. A format was created for a reason, and it has elements that make it work. “Adapting to India” may be prudent, but chipping and chopping it endlessly can take away from the essence of it.

 

And finally, reality shows that have survived, or will survive in the future, are the ones that can manage to create fan bases for its cast, be it jury, host or participants. Early seasons of Dance India Dance are perhaps the best example of this. As is MTV Roadies. But these are rare exceptions in a long list of fan-less reality shows.

 

The T20 World Cup will be over this Sunday. The next one is a long four years away. It is highly unlikely that the success of this World Cup will boost viewership of other cricket formats in India. But there is enough to learn from it nevertheless, especially for reality television producers.