The entire premise of The Secret Millionaire (Channel 4, Wednesdays, 9pm) is questionable: a fantastically wealthy person goes back to their roots, adopts an undercover persona of someone ‘normal’ (read: impoverished), connects with the local community and then, at the end of the show, reveals his/her true identity and hands over a random amount of money to those who are deemed to be worthy of such assistance. Could there be a more blatant advertisement for capitalism than this programme? “Oh, look at the Poor People with their awful lives, let’s throw money at them: that will make it all better because cash solves all woes.” The Poor People respond as if to a script – speechless with heart-breaking gratitude that someone has chosen to help them for no reason other than ‘because they needed help’. It’s over-simplistic, arbitrary and I’m afraid that I absolutely love it. I revel in the millionaires’ discomfort as they rough it, wince at their lack of awareness regarding the perceived hopelessness of so many people’s lives, and – yes – I well up when the cheques are handed over. Like binge drinking, money doesn’t solve life’s bigger issues, but a burst every now and then can be entertaining.
Thursday 13 December 2007
The Secret Millionaire
The entire premise of The Secret Millionaire (Channel 4, Wednesdays, 9pm) is questionable: a fantastically wealthy person goes back to their roots, adopts an undercover persona of someone ‘normal’ (read: impoverished), connects with the local community and then, at the end of the show, reveals his/her true identity and hands over a random amount of money to those who are deemed to be worthy of such assistance. Could there be a more blatant advertisement for capitalism than this programme? “Oh, look at the Poor People with their awful lives, let’s throw money at them: that will make it all better because cash solves all woes.” The Poor People respond as if to a script – speechless with heart-breaking gratitude that someone has chosen to help them for no reason other than ‘because they needed help’. It’s over-simplistic, arbitrary and I’m afraid that I absolutely love it. I revel in the millionaires’ discomfort as they rough it, wince at their lack of awareness regarding the perceived hopelessness of so many people’s lives, and – yes – I well up when the cheques are handed over. Like binge drinking, money doesn’t solve life’s bigger issues, but a burst every now and then can be entertaining.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment