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Creating a comedy series no longer requires egocentric actors, cranky writers and elaborate sets. All you need is a sarcastic streak and access to the Internet.
“Tosh.0,” “Country-Fried Home Videos,” “Attack of the Show!” and “Web Soup” may not make the Emmy short list or crack Nielsen’s top 20, but they are luring the much coveted demographic of young males with squirmy, dirt-cheap bait: viral video — homemade, crass shorts that are passed along by e-mail like dirty jokes drifting through a crowded bar.
Those who surf the Web know that guys getting hit in the crotch, cats playing pianos, misfits warbling off-key tunes, roommates pulling practical jokes, bitter ex-wives ranting from their kitchen, brothers poking each other with cattle prods and more guys getting hit in the crotch are more sought after than a downloaded rerun of “My Wife and Kids.”
Instead of fighting the trend, some cable executives are eager to embrace it, especially since a show that revolves around viral video costs less than the catering bill for the cast of “Lost” and has the potential to reach an audience that normally treats mainstream television as their grandparents’ folly.
“A guy in his bedroom is going to relate to someone who has made a video in his bedroom, not a guy with a million dollars to spend,” said “Web Soup” host Chris Hardwick, one of TV’s “webslingers,” comics who introduce the shorts and then snicker about them like kids cracking wise in the back row of sex-ed class. “People don’t trust things that look really slick anymore. These videos look crappy, grainy, poorly shot and have a homespun feel. That’s how we share information now, and our show is a reflection of that.”
Shows like “Web Soup,” a spinoff of E!‘s long-running series, “The Soup,” which bounces back and forth between TV clips and punch lines, saves viewers from wandering aimlessly through the Web for laughs or relying on a text buddy to zap you the latest and greatest.
“Web” utilizes fewer than a dozen people to sift through submissions and explore the Web for golden nuggets.
“Going on the Internet can be like opening a closet full of junk,” Hardwick said. “You don’t want to waste 4 minutes on something that doesn’t pay off. We do the work for you and present it on a plate.”
That explains why people watch, but why do they submit their homemade “minor pieces” to the Web and these programs for possible ridicule? These shows don’t offer a grand prize — unless you count bragging rights.
Shad Petosky, the owner of Puny Entertainment, a Minneapolis production company, found out just how cruel surfers can be two years ago when he posted footage of a squirrel in his yard who had gotten into some fermented pumpkins.
“Some people made comments that I was stupid or cruel,” he said. “I guess there’s a lot of my heavy breathing on the video, so some people called me fat and said I should lose weight.”
The upside, however, was far greater. The “Drunk Squirrel” video has garnered more than 10 million hits and was played on various television shows. It even landed Petosky a spot on CMT’s “Country-Fried Home Videos.”
Petosky did manage to snag $3,200 for his work — a rare bonus in this field — but the real reward was getting his 15 minutes of fame.
“Ultimately, it’s an ego thing,” he said.
Hardwick said attention seekers are nothing new. Reality TV has fed off them for years. But now you don’t have to be selected for “The Real World” to attract a crowd. All you need is a willingness to act nuts — and make certain someone is capturing it on camera.
“People do insane things just to be on the front page,” he said. “A kid will cross the arms and jump into a cactus patch for a chance to get 10,000 or a million views. It’s a badge of honor. They’re not sitting around trying to do it for monetary reasons. They just want to say that they were the guys who rode a bike into a fire hydrant and got a million views. It’s their way of planting their flag on the map.”
Much of the credit — or blame — for this trend can be directed at “America’s Funniest Home Videos,” the never-say-die series that is currently celebrating its 19th season of clips and snarky comments. The relationship between viral video and television took a giant step forward when “Jimmy Kimmel Live” premiered in 2003. During the debut episode, the host screened a short called “The Super Bowl Is Gay,” a reference to the big sporting event that had concluded hours earlier. Since then, Kimmel has used viral video in his opening monologue once or twice a week.
“They have to be funny enough to warrant air time,” Kimmel said. “Plus, once I show a video my friends will stop sending it to me over and over again.”
Standup comedian Daniel Tosh, who hosts Comedy Central’s “Tosh.O,” said he and his staff of fewer than a half-dozen people are looking for absurdity and brevity. Anything five minutes is too long for the “ADD comedy” nature of the show. There’s also a legal issue to consider. Television shows have a one-week window to broadcast any new viral video, but after that they need permission from the filmmakers and any companies that may be referenced. That catch keeps the show from using about half of the content they like.
“It can be a great video, but they might have Coldplay playing in the background or someone has a Nike shirt on or they’re drinking Coca-Cola. Then there are those people we just can’t find,” said Tosh, whose show is eerily similar in format to “Web Soup.” “It’s a nightmare.”
But to cable networks with shoestring budgets, it’s worth the headache. A normal episode of these kinds of shows cost less than $75,000. A mainstream sitcom or drama can easily spend $1 million a week. For that reason, you’ll likely see the marriage of TV and viral video get more intimate.
“We’re definitely in the toe-dipping-in-the-water stage,” Hardwick said. “When news organizations are using Twitter or posting war footage on YouTube, you know the courtship is well under way. TV shows presenting the greatest hits of the Internet feels more and more right.”
