The UK publication MediaWeek defines “Zapping” as “Rapid channel
switching or surfing via a remote control”. Its that act you experience
when the TV programme you are watching fails to hold your attention for
more than a fleeting period as you click the remote control, seeking to
be more “engaged”.
It’s said that a country gets the TV it deserves. In Spain’s case I
suspect that the former sentence could be good grounds for the Spanish
TV audience to institute libel proceedings. Spanish TV is a very
curious blend of the extraordinarily banal, the overly serious and the
totally retentive.
I make no excuses for the fact that as a result of living in Spain I
expect my family to have a more than capable command of the Spanish
language. I believe it has to be one of the lasting legacies of a
childhood in Spain, a real gift.
Many will know that the “footprint” of the UK’s SKY TV service embraces
Spain and depending on the package chosen you can assure your family of
wall to wall international media. Thus ensuring no one is behind on the
comings and goings of a favourite soap opera or the trials and
tribulations of your team’s progress in the Premiership. However, we
noticed that our kids, who all go to an International school and speak
some Spanish during each school day, were not advancing their fluency
as quickly as we had expected. We placed the blame squarely with the
Cartoon Network and the Disney Channel.
In moving house we decided to experiment. Whilst our SKY dish, which is
the size of a Green Lines bus, would have appeared ugly on the side or
roof of our new home, we thought we’d see just what impact not having
SKY would have on our kid’s language, and mine for that matter. The
experiment has worked to the extent we are all speaking much more
Spanish but at what cost.
The national TV channels such RTE 1appears to have the gravitas of
BBC1. They carry World news that is invariably accompanied by the most
gruesome footage of carnage from a troubled hot spot. Images continue
to haunt for months after witnessing and whilst I am not one for
sugaring the pill, I am not at all convinced that the warts and all
approach is the best.
“Memo to self”: get the kids to bed and dinner eaten before switching on RTE 1.
This news coverage is delivered by a series of Madrileños accented –
frankly to my ear the most easily discernible Spanish - card board cut
outs. These ultra serious communicators are usually dressed in light
grey suits that appear to have been tailored for another member of the
staff; it’s as though the names pinned to the lapel have been switched
on the runner rail by a mischievous wardrobe assistant. Their ties and
coiffure have had disproportionate amounts of attention. The
questionable colour and poor tying of the former being firmly beaten
into second place by the time, trouble and effort that has obviously
been taken with the latter.
Within ten minutes of RTE1 News you are gasping for the banal and you
find yourself lurking in the direction of the regional TV stations
which seem to have been produced in the Producer/Director’s sitting
room.
Local TV is where the most fun is to be had. Shows range from a Tarot
card reading psychic with a broken arm and the most incredibly coloured
hair. Who delivers her predictions to eager crackle voiced viewers over
the Spanish equivalent of a 0898 premium rate telephone line. I wonder
if she foretold her own accident?
There are endless TV press conferences with microphone socks and
familiar plastic cubes naming the various channels thrust in the face
of an irascible spokesperson for a football team, Town Hall or
construction company.
There is a lady on Ojen TV who, every night for the past couple of
months, has appeared debating with a less than animated audience the
scandals in Marbella Town Hall. Whilst the investigating judge Senior
Torres has amassed extensive documentation supporting his arrests I
suspect he sleeps at some point. I have not yet tested it but I am
convinced this lady who appears to have ambitions for political office
is on TV for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
In the late 1990’s a press campaign in the UK attempted to highlight
the banalities that would follow from the de-restriction of the UK TV
media. It used as an example an Italian programme that featured
stripping housewives. A natural extension of this excellent and perhaps
underused game show format has been conceived and born in Spain, “Strip
Poker”.
For some reason, best known to the Producer’s, the bearded compare –
who looks like a former Blue Peter presenter - and card dealer seems to
spend the entire show tightly suited in a dinner jacket and bow tie
whilst his less fortunate table companion loses hand after hand which
results in her standing rather self-consciously and totally naked at
the dealing table. What is amazing about this show is that even after
she has been stripped, as the show’s title suggests, of all her clothes
she continues to play, gambling with what I am not sure – perhaps her
soul!
If you are unlucky enough to switch on the TV in the afternoon you will
be bombarded with the Oprah/Tricia type shows that liquefy otherwise
already fragile people. There is worse. A version of the classic Mr and
Mrs show where the contestants are not exclusively “Mr and Mrs” but
include some “Mr and Mr” and “Ms and Ms.”.
I have never been phased by homosexuality. For me it sits there, as, I
think was suggested by DH Lawrence, along with opium abuse as a thing
that my life can do without. However the Producers of this show are
determined to ram their political correctness, forgive me, down our
throats. As the successful partner guesses his partners earlier answer
correctly they are oblige to engage in a full on lips celebratory kiss.
After the ten questions of astonishing simplicity are answered with
100% accuracy the sight of two fey young men with that curious wet look
hair engaging in yet another a screen kiss is too much – zap – surely
its tea time.
The evening’s offerings are even more arcane. Dubbed US comedies, cop
and hospital shows are punctuated with home-grown comedies about the
dysfunctional residents and neighbours in an apartment block or a group
of suspectly stupid police officers who always seem to be inadvertently
shooting each other.
Then there’s the pornography. Around 8.15 am the day after moving into
our new property and hooking the TV up to the aerial amongst the
emptying boxes I discover that we are able to get around 14 channels. A
quick skip thought those available, and amid the murmur of waking
children on this cool February morning, I happen upon a naked couple in
the throes of full sex, sound effects included. I had heard of this TV
spectacle but didn’t believe that it would be “allowed”.
You have to be careful as any night of the week as from around the
usual UK “watershed” time acts of graphic coitus and more will be
readily available. I suggest you make sure the remote is out of the
kid’s hands or better still …….consider re-installing SKY!
I must confess that I am a little lapsed in my commitment to Spanish
TV. The World Cup coverage was an inconsistent disaster and there are
still some firm favourite programmes including “Boston Legal” and
“Desperate Housewives” – which is available in Spanish - which we plead
friends and family to videotape for us.
Nevertheless we will continue to sift the good from the bad and who
knows we may find ourselves becoming overly qualified experts as a
result of some of the extraordinary documentaries on Manchego
Semi-Curado cheese or in the devotions necessary to create the finest
“5J” Jamon Serrano.
© The Rights Group SL 2006 (Marbella)
Mark FR Wilkins
mark@therightsgroup.com
www.therightsgroup.com
(under review)
+34 600 343 917