It’s the Holy Grail of weekend television: a reality show that appeals to all ages and holds the attention of a younger generation whose brains have been shrunk to the size of walnuts by 15-second social media clips.
ITV’s latest foray into this highly-competitive arena is The Masked Singer, which became a sensation when it debuted in South Korea in 2015, then quickly took the world by storm with copycat versions in America, France and Australia.
Now it’s in Britain with a prime-time Saturday evening slot. But will it be a sure-fire smash or the first turkey of the new year?
I sat down with my three children to see if it passed the all-important ‘family’ test.
An adult dancing in a 7ft duck suit is normally only on stage in a holiday camp, but here we are treated to such a sight with the addition of a conical Madonna bra and 4ft blonde ponytail
Things weren’t promising at the start. True, my kids are hard to please at the best of times but the idea we could possibly enjoy the same TV show was met with derision: ‘We wouldn’t watch this if you weren’t making us,’ they cried. But we persevered and found a show with a pretty standard format: a bubbly host (in this case comedian Joel Dommett) bantering with four famous judges sitting behind a desk.
The solo acts sing on stage (this time it’s celebrities performing other people’s hits) while a live studio audience votes for their favourites. So far, so conventional. But the twist is that the singers wear outlandish costumes that come complete with outrageous masks – hence the show’s name – meaning there’s no way of knowing who you’re watching. Is it Adele or a Love Island nobody?
The stars’ identities are only revealed when they’re voted off by the judges. In last night’s British debut, the losing celebrity was former EastEnders actress Patsy Palmer, which gives you an idea of the calibre we’re talking about.
It’s this element of mystery, suspense and ‘who-the-heck-is-that?’ as you narrow your eyes to try to guess who they are which makes this show a little different. And let’s face it, the masked concept is one way of getting over the usual complaint about reality TV shows that you’ve never heard of any of the contestants before.
But will it grab the whole family’s attention? The challenge is to cross a generation gap that has never been so wide thanks to individual, personalised viewing habits.
My son may know more You-Tubers than soap stars but I wouldn’t recognise his gaming vloggers if their sun-starved, veal-calf bodies sat beside me on the sofa. Very few celebrities are able to cross this chasm.
I sat down with my three children to see if it passed the all-important ‘family’ test. The challenge is to cross a generation gap that has never been so wide thanks to individual, personalised viewing habits
Pictured from left to right, Ken Jeong, Davina McCall, Rita Ora and Jonathan Ross. The stars’ identities are only revealed when they’re voted off by the judges
That much was obvious even as Dommett introduced the panel: Davina McCall (guaranteed to bring sparkling enthusiasm to any format); Rita Ora (‘oh I know that one,’ says Trixie); the funny ‘one-for-the-adults’ Jonathan Ross (‘who?’ they all blink); and actor Ken Jeong. ‘Is that Kim Jong Un?’ asks Kiki who takes an interest in international politics. Croyde corrects her. ‘He’s the actor from The Hangover. He’s awesome.’
So, something for everyone – unless, of course, you were looking for a communist dictator. The contestants come on two at a time – first were ‘Queen Bee’ and ‘Duck’, named after their costumes.
‘I kind of want to see this,’ says my eight-year-old as Queen Bee – with a weird, china-doll face – comes on stage, which is as enthusiastic as that generation gets about old-fashioned television. All these shows rely on the critical ‘back-story’ of the contestants so we get a video from each act giving clues about their identity in a through-the-keyhole way.
Then Dommett really earns his fee by interviewing these people behind their immoveable giant masks. Their voices are distorted which gives the characters a rather sinister air, as though they’re NHS whistleblowers fearing reprisals.
Finally they sing. Queen Bee treats us to Sia’s Alive while Duck performs Madonna’s Like A Virgin.
An adult dancing in a 7ft duck suit is normally only spotted on stage in a holiday camp, but here we are treated to such a sight with the addition of a conical Madonna bra and 4ft blonde ponytail. They aren’t necessarily singers, although everyone in this first episode can hold a tune.
Queen Bee treats us to Sia’s Alive. Make no mistake, the costumes are incredible. So detailed, they make the average Strictly dress look like sackcloth
And crooning through a mesh mouth beneath a massive duck, butterfly or hedgehog outfit as the country strains to recognise your voice surely cannot be easy.
Make no mistake, the costumes are incredible. So detailed, they make the average Strictly dress look like sackcloth.
It’s not long before we’re all sucked in. Thanks to the show’s clever editing and clues, we can’t help but attempt to guess who the celebrities might be. ‘It could be Ariana Grande – she wears high boots,’ wonders Trixie of Queen Bee.
And so do the perplexed panel (even Dommett’s in the dark). ‘She said she was hard on the outside, soft on the inside,’ ruminates Davina of the 8ft duck. ‘Theresa May!’ suggests Ross. The kids giggle.
After the first performance, my children are itching for a reveal – ‘Go on, take the mask off,’ they’re all muttering. I sit there wondering if South Korean children have more patience than British ones.
It’s only at the end that the losing celebrity is revealed (the others will appear in future episodes) and they’re unmasked to the slightly creepy frat-boy chanting of ‘take it off! take it off! take it off!’
The suspense is so intense with its fast-cut edits and wham-bam crescendo soundtrack that the audience risks being disappointed if it doesn’t eventually turn out to be Elvis behind the mask.
So will it be a hit? All my children could agree on was that it is ‘just so weird.’ But in an age when it is difficult to fascinate, weird can be good.