I'LL BET YOU...
"Deal or No Deal," NBC's hit game show is a diabolically clever piece of work.
It pretends to be about hopes and dreams and courage and guts and all kinds of other all-American delusions.
In fact, it is entirely about greed and vanity.
And, of course, Beautiful Babes.
Which means it plays on at least three of the oldest traits of man. The show is positively biblical.
Last night, a charming and amusing young man was the contestant. His name is Pyong Kong. He is a Korean American. He clogs and sings karaoke (quite well, actually) and his wife, his brother, his best friend and both his immigrant parents were in the studio cheering him on.
The host is Howie Mandel, who in other incarnations was a child-like manic stand-up, then a serious actor on a weekly TV hospital melodrama, then a TV talk show host. Mr. Mandel, a Canadian, is an enormously talented guy, who I am sure could do almost anything in the various worlds of performance. He is quick-witted and self-assured and charming. He also knows what cannot be taught. He knows how to use his voice and his body and the audience and the camera to his own and the show's best advantage. Where lesser players would shout, Howie will say something of great import quietly, almost - but not quite - off-handedly.
So, last night, Mr. Kong was beating the board. He had placed himself after 45 of the 60 minutes allotted to the show in the position of having the company (represented by a shadowy figure on high, who cellphones Howie with offers) offer him $289,000 if he would stop playing the game.
The young man had nothing when he came into the studio. He told us all that he needed money for their honeymoon and for the down payment on a house. He told us that his parents had come to America with $750. He clearly wanted to say, "No deal!" take the cash and get out of there.
But then...
And this exact same scenario happened again tonight with an arrogant, little tennis player who told us that she wanted to pay off her student loans and go to University to study pharmacy. She worked the game until the house offered her $299,000 to quit.
Anybody watching, anybody with a brain, anybody not caught up in the heat of the bright lights and the screaming Coliseum-like crowd, anybody not switched on by greed and ego would say at this point, "Hey! I just beat the house. They're offering me a small fortune. I'm outta here!"
But, this, of course, is exactly what did not happen two nights in a row.
In the end, both gambled, both lost and both went home with pretty good sums, but considerably less than they could have.
And until those barfacious moments, this is a gripping, silly entertainment.
In the end, it becomes a confirmation of our worst suspicions of human nature.
This is not Masterpiece Theatre.
That's both a good and a bad thing.