I am - Hercules!!


One wonders if the producers of CBS' highly watchable new reality show, "There Goes The Neighborhood," might have taken as an inspiration the 1960 "Twilight Zone" installment "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street." The Serling-scripted 'sode, also originally aired on CBS, followed a group of suburban neighbors who turn on each other as a malevolent force isolates them by stripping away their electricity and means of travel.

On "Zone" the neighbors were isolated not only via loss of electricity but also the mysterious crippling of their automobiles. On "Neighborhood" the neighbors are immobilized by the block-long 20-foot-tall Berlin-evoking wall that seals eight suburban Kennesaw, Ga., houses in and the rest of the world out. If that wall didn't sufficiently evoke Germany's dark history, CBS was good enough to cast a family named Schindler.

While the wall was presumably expected, the loss of electricity, as it did on Maple Street, takes the neighbors by surprise. They're suddenly left without TV, email, the World Wide Web and a means by which they can charge their cell phones. Everyone suddenly has to start talking to each other.

The blackout also means no air conditioning in the middle of a hot Georgia summer, which turns out to be a particular problem for the biggest neighbor, fat, sweaty, 46-year-old Jeff DeGirolamo. (Were Apple founder Steve Wozniack a more successful media whore, DeGirolamo could make a good living impersonating him.) Once producers cut the AC, DeGirolamo looks perpetually nine minutes from cardiac arrest -- except during the slightly strenuous competition, in which DeGirolamo's distance to the Choir Invisible seems to shrink to 90 seconds. (At one particularly funny juncture, DeGirolamo sits stonefaced as his kids marvel at how athletic their neighbors are.)

The game's rules, as best I can tell from the first episode, are similar to those governing the current CBS version of "Big Brother." A weekly competition determines which household is crowned "kings of the neighborhood." The "kings" nominate two families for eviction, then the non-nominees vote on which of the two clans is banished from the compound. Last family standing wins $250,000 prize, enough to pay off an Atlanta mortgage or relocate a family to a better neighborhood.

As a bonus, the first "kings" are awarded a new refrigerator/freezer that will run on a portable generator for the balance of the season.

I stand in awe of CBS and the team behind producer Mike Fleiss ("The Bachelor"), who have somehow surmounted what had to have been a logistical nightmare. CBS had to find eight families on eight contiguous lots, with every adult member of each family able take off work at the same time. I'm guessing somebody probably had to pay off every non-competing neighbor just outside that insane wall, probably had to figure out how to make the local fire inspectors happy, and probably had to secure the blessings of a slew of municipal and/or county agencies.

Contestant attractiveness was likely the first casualty of aligning all these factors. Not all of these 33 contestants are "Big Brother" fit or pretty. The average adult American woman carries 164 pounds on her 5'4" frame; the male carries 191 pounds at 5'9". This series drives home the truth of those stats.

But Sarah Palin take note: the "real Americans" in this eight-house slice of suburban America include two lesbian moms, a single mom, at least one mixed-race clan and, I suspect, at least one closeted homosexual. On the other hand, no one seems to be on meth and none of the teens appears to be knocked up.

The fact that most or all of the neighbors seem to have pre-existing relationships ramps up the drama considerably. Before the first episode ends you'll sense friendships destroyed and see adults and small children alike reduced to #%$!! born of hatred and betrayal. Oh, and you'll witness a big-breasted teen soaked at length with a high-pressure fire hose. I pray to my sweet baby Jesus on his throne high in Heaven we get a reunion episode.

The Los Angeles Times says:

… After you look at "There Goes The Neighborhood," it's hard to look away. It is such an utterly cynical experiment, troublesome on so many levels (there are children involved, watching adults cry because their friends have "banished" them) and no matter how often people say "it's just a game," even without a big chunk of change on the line, family competitions are rarely bloodless. …

Variety says:

… basically plays like a slightly stoned riff on a landlocked version of "The Amazing Race" or "Survivor: Family Edition." … As always, the inclusion of young children (there are 11 minors in the show, from age 5 to 17) is a distasteful element, especially when the tykes join in strategizing about which of their neighbors to bounce. …

The Hollywood Reporter says:

… As a visual metaphor, that wall is genuinely creepy, especially when the producers turn off the electricity inside. One of the dads compares it to Alcatraz, though it looks more like the hastily assembled partition that the Israelis have erected to separate themselves from the Palestinians. But inside this tract-home gulag, the drama doesn't immediately come to a boil. … while it's easy enough to laugh at the self-absorption of the D-list wannabes on "Brother" -- mostly single and in their 20s -- you have to wonder about some of these parents, even if the show piously insists they are spending "quality time" with their families. …

9 p.m. Sunday. CBS.