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Billy Mays isn’t exactly a household name, but once you see the household products he hocks, you instantly remember who he is. You remember him not for the miraculous ability of the products he demonstrates and not for his good looks or charm. You remember Billy Mays because he’s one of those guys that never learned the value of an “inside-voice” as he shouts every syllable of dialogue.
When the commercials first appeared I did not think that Billy Mays was a surefire star. I thought, “Why is my TV yelling at me? What have I done?”
The Discovery Channel, however, seems to disagree as the OxiClean superstar has just been given his very own show along with his British counterpart, Anthony Sullivan (as seen in SmartMop infomercials), to co-host. The show is Pitchmen and the concept is simple: Billy Mays and Anthony Sullivan seek out budding inventors who hope to make it big.
The problem with the show isn’t really the concept itself. It’s not groundbreaking, but it is an unexplored area of reality TV. The problem is that the show is not only relying on, but really trying to sell, the star power of its hosts. Despite the fact that they’re not actually stars. Sullivan feels relatively unknown; as do the products he’s best known for pitching, while Billy Mays is largely well-known for being obnoxious, irritating and grating. Pitchmen ignores this and pushes on going so far as to intentionally highlight the supposed backstage drama and tension between Mays and Sullivan.
Upon seeing this, one can’t help but laugh. I want to see cat fights on America’s Next Top Model. I want to see celebrity drama as delivered via Perez Hilton or even The Soup. I do not care about the so-called “antagonism” between two barely-famous daytime commercial salesmen. Nor do I want to witness that antagonism played out as if the two grown men were fifteen year old girls on Gossip Girl.
Unfortunately, the fault of Pitchmen doesn’t lie entirely with its hosts. The inventors themselves are repeatedly depicted as hard-working, all-or-nothing people hoping to live out a dream. So far, it seems every episode includes a moderately sappy montage that suggests that every single inventor is not only risking their home and savings, but you half expect them to announce that if their invention doesn’t succeed, Tiny Tim in his wheelchair will literally die of disappointment.
So now we have a reality show with stars that aren’t stars, schmaltz that’s utterly laughable and drama that simply isn’t dramatic.
I can’t help but wonder how long the show can last and how long it will take audiences and more importantly, the show’s producers, to realize that if people can’t stand thirty seconds of Billy Mays or the influx of commercials in every break, what makes them think they’ll want a full hour of it?
Sound Off
Last post: May. 19, 2009 at 8:59 pm


Jeff Brandt (Jeff Brandt) said on May. 19, 2009 at 8:59 pm:
I think the problem is the genre: reality TV. If these guys had their own crime drama, it would be awesome.