Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, July 21, 1990 TAG: 9007210112
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: E-3 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Tom Shales
DATELINE: LOS ANGELES LENGTH: Medium
"Boy, am I glad I came to my senses," gushes John.
Thus the wrenching emotional climax of "The Adventures of Marge and John," which is not a dreadful new 30-minute sitcom but a dreadful new 30-minute commercial - technically, an "infomercial," one of the new breed of program-length ads that have infested America's airwaves like ants at a picnic.
The gripping little playlet about Marge and John has the otherwise happily married couple agonizing over the decision of whether to buy an adjustable bed. And who hasn't? Ads for these infernal beds are among the most inescapable of the infomercials. But there are countless others - for hair restoratives and food shredders and gunk that cleans iodine, blood, road tar and axle grease off your silk neckties.
While the trivial tribulations of Marge and John are staged as a drama, most of the infomercials are staged as talk shows, replete with hired (or just infinitely pliable) studio audiences. They applaud with passionate approval when Fred Foreclosure tells how he made ten zillion dollars in real estate or when the road tar vanishes from the necktie.
As is the case with so many of the things that are irritating and unfair about American television, we have the Reagan administration and its policy of deregulation (which actually began during the Carter administration) to thank for the infomercial infestation. In 1984, "Maniac Mark" Fowler, the Reagan-appointed Federal Communications Commission chairman, issued a ruling that essentially removed all limits on how much commercial time can be crammed onto the air and into your home.
Then, when the FCC's rule on syndicated exclusivity kicked in on Jan. 1 of this year, cable systems found themselves with gaping holes where programs used to be. The rule says cable systems can't show syndicated reruns like "The Cosby Show" or "MASH" if a TV station in the same market has also bought those shows.
What to use to fill those gaping holes? Infomercials, dutifully and plentifully supplied by the growing number of companies that produce them. Infomercials have also proliferated on regular broadcast TV, especially in wee hours where time is cheap and viewers are bleary.
To be sure, infomercials usually begin and end with a disclaimer announcing that what is about to be seen or just was seen is a "paid advertisement." But viewers could easily miss or overlook the disclaimers. And most everything else about the shows is crafted to look legitimate - even to the point of interrupting the program-length commercials for commercial-length commercials.
We'll find out if Marge and John do indeed take that giant step of buying an adjustable bed - right after this commercial for adjustable beds.
Now, however, Congress and the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) are looking into the infomercials, mainly because some have been making unjustifiable claims for products.
But it could be argued that the formats and titles of the infomercials are often in themselves deceptive. A half-hour infomercial pitching a product that supposedly banishes icky cellulite from a viewer's trouble thighs is given the audacious title "Straight Talk." Ads for spot removers and teeth whiteners are disguised as shows called "Amazing Discoveries" and "Incredible Inventions."
Discussing what she solemnly refers to as "the cellulite problem" on the "Straight Talk" show, host-actress Erin Gray chats away with the mysterious "Anushka," the wily entrepreneur who invented the alleged cellulite cure. Anushka says that when she stumbled across it she became "the happiest woman on earth."
Hey, imagine how happy she got when folks started dialing her li'l ol' 800 number with their credit cards in hand.
Infomercials don't just sell a product, however. They also preach a gospel. It's the Gospel of You, the you who deserves to be "pampered," the you who deserves every heart's desire. Anushka's "bio-response body contouring program" is "something you've owed yourself for years," she says evangelically.
When people in the audience rise to testify on behalf of the product, the crowd cheers as if having heard a valorous speech renouncing vice or a profound statement of religious beliefs. Infomercials offer viewers new gods to worship.
One thing that Anushka and her "guests" cannot seem to agree on is the pronunciation of cellulite. She says "sell-you-leet," but some of those vaunted experts of hers say "sell-you-light." Of course, it's "sell you" that is the operative part of the phrase.
And it's "fool you" that may be the underlying aim of the infomercial. Washington Post Writers Group
by CNB