“I feel clean,” quips one. “You look clean,” says another. Now comes the day’s requisite insight into the mysterious male mind. “Losing your hair,” explains Bonaduce, “is No. 1–the No. 1–source of depression among men.” Adds Lopez, “I agree with you, Danny. It’s a big heated discussion when close buddies and you start talking about what’s bumming you out.”
This is the part where they reveal the joke, right? Surely Clark–the trustworthy father figure from “American Bandstand”–will stand up and reveal that men aren’t really this shallow. After all, this is the show women tune into because they “get advice about what men really think,” according to NBC. Shouldn’t Clark introduce today’s real subject, something about money, sports, relationships or our jobs–topics that real men actually do discuss? Nope. Clark just nods solemnly, as Bonaduce ventures into the audience to hear one female after another share her dislike of the bald-headed male. Then he adds an opinion of his own: “The comb-over” should be eliminated.
Welcome to “The Other Half,” a dishonest, shameful and wildly popular daily talk show. On Sept. 9, the series began its second season, having earned the distinction of being the only new syndicated daytime talk show of the last year to win renewal. Last year, “The Other Half” was also the top-ranked talk series demographically, according to NBC, attracting the highest concentration of adult female viewers between the peak shopping ages of 18-34 and 25-49. About 2 million viewers tune in every day.
The show is NBC’s answer to “The View,” the ABC program on which a panel of women led by Barbara Walters sits around and discuss current events, relationships, grooming and entertainment. “The Other Half” presents “the world of women through the eyes of men” trumpets the show’s advertising. But from the moment it begins each day–with the smiling shots of seventysomething Clark, “Partridge Family” survivor/radio host Bonaduce and actors Lopez and Dorian Gregory (who late last season replaced plastic surgeon Dr. Jan Adams)–you can just feel its phoniness. Rarely have I seen members of my own sex debase themselves so consistently. And for a show about guys, there’s very little that’s male about it.
You can start with the set, which is decorated like a teenybopper’s bedroom. Perched daintily on tall stools, the four male hosts surround a tiny table just large enough to accommodate four matching, oversize mugs of steaming coffee. Behind them sit large antique urns (quite possibly housing the ashes of the their masculinity and dignity, burned to a crisp). The background features soft orange lights, and several purple windows with arches. Not that we need empty beer cans, sports magazines and potato chips, but shouldn’t there be a least a little masculine edge?
The lack of authenticity doesn’t seem to bother the audience, almost all of whom are screaming women. Any real guy sitting in the studio would be totally bored–not to mention angry–watching these losers sipping lattes and purporting to represent their sex. Either that or they’d be scared, as I quickly discerned. When the camera pans across the crowd, the few men there appear fidgety and punch-drunk. You have to assume any poor schmuck in the audience has been dragged by a pushy spouse.
Maybe the millions of American women tuning in each day are there just for the topics, which are hardly subjects men talk about: how to wrap Christmas presents, liposuction, makeup. What man would ever care to discuss singer Tiffany’s decision to pose for Playboy and get breast implants? In another episode, the hosts appear in drag (done up as the cast of “The View”), bounce up and down on plastic gym balls and whack their cheeks with their hands to get rid of wrinkles. Painful.
All of this would be fine if someone would just acknowledge the deceit. Instead, it’s the basis for the whole show. These hosts–three of whom this season are actors–aren’t behaving like real men at all. Instead, they’re presenting sanitized versions of men in order to draw in female viewers. “Watching ‘The Other Half’ is like reading the other team’s playbook,” Bonaduce told USA Today last year. But Danny, bud, you never offer anything truthful to these women. How audacious to make such a claim when all you give your viewers is hooey like what it feels like for you and your cohosts to shave your legs and what you think about women who don’t wear bras?
The show is packaged as if it’s a cultural and educational experience for American women–a way for them to learn about different types of men. And boy, are these four types! Dick Clark plays the old uncle, the safe man with the wisdom who’s been married for 35 years. Mario Lopez and Dorian Gregory are the hunky single guys. (Last year’s Dr. Jan Adams, one of the show’s original hosts, offered the single dad’s perspective.)
If there’s anyone who comes close to representing the uncommunicative American male that’s probably driving women to “The Other Half” for answers in the first place, it’s the goateed Danny Bonaduce. Always eager to make a lewd joke, he’s your friendly neighborhood meathead. Yet by continuously referring to his wife (“She’d kill me!” he injects when discussing the topic of strip clubs), he manages to come across as a harmless asexual suburbanite. Like all the others, his opinions have been diluted for female consumption. No wonder women are so happy to watch!
But any female who views “The Other Half” can only become more confused by the opposite sex. It’s a shame, because men are not all uncommunicative, sex-starved animals. Many of us–I like to think–are much more complex, sensitive and nuanced than the show’s producers would have viewers believe. Surely Clark, with his generations’ worth of life experience, has real insight to share as a man. And Bonaduce, whose years of drug addiction certainly caused him and his family much hardship, obviously has some lessons to share. But you won’t get any of that on “The Other Half.” The cast has been castrated–and with ratings this good, that’s probably not going to change anytime soon.
