That Teju Babyface Show of bad, bad TV
Best way to lose a first-time viewer? Copy, in annoying detail, an existing, well-loved American show’s opening. Yes, Teju Babyface, I’m talking to you and the way you copied David Letterman’s show to ridiculous lengths. To make things worse, said opening is weak, almost threatening the coolness of the hat-throwing bit that follows. Things go […]
Best way to lose a first-time viewer? Copy, in annoying detail, an existing, well-loved American show’s opening. Yes, Teju Babyface, I’m talking to you and the way you copied David Letterman’s show to ridiculous lengths. To make things worse, said opening is weak, almost threatening the coolness of the hat-throwing bit that follows.
Things go further South as Babyface’s Top 3 Amazing Facts (another shameless Letterman Show grab, this time at the famous Top 10) unfold. The ‘amazing’ facts happen to be dead U.S prez Roosevelt’s in-home boxing ring, humans spending a third of their lives in bed and Buckingham Palace’s 600 rooms. Wow, Teju, that’s info that I’d have happily died without knowing.
The show’s set design is loud and garish, perfect for the incessant, shameless self-promotion that ensues. Like equally shameless and annoying promos for the show sponsor’s products. Come on, there’s got to be a classier, less in-your-face way to do that! And the audience, poor souls, apparently forced at gunpoint to laugh and clap at joyless segments (like the main one with guest Gani Adams, but we’ll get to that), like someone looking at photos of someone else’s kids and being forced to smile for 30 minutes.
After guests are handed out gifts of spaghetti or seasoning powder refugee camp-style (surprised DSTV allowed this to pass), came yet another migraine-inducer. The ‘Next Best Thing’ segment was with a young-ish singer called Chris Nice, whose talent certainly isn’t in tandem with his name. Especially since he seemed to be a rock act but ended up caterwauling.
The guest for the night, Gani Adams of Oodua People’s Congress (OPC) spends most of his face-time explaining the metaphysics of traditional spells and charms (fondly called ‘jazz’ by Nigerians), with the rest wasted on an apparent PR drive for his group. A barrage of improvised pseudo-history follows. I snoozed off the minute he claimed to simultaneously be an adherent of Christianity, Islam and traditional religion. And his English, oh his English! It made Dame Patience Jonathan’s seem like Richard Attenborough’s. Seriously.
All is not lost, thankfully, as the aforementioned audience prove to be part of the only things that work. The seating arrangement projects ambience that seems personal, almost intimate. Other noteworthy things include the main jokes, which are fresh (in an industry where ‘recycle’ is the buzz word) and very Nigerian, without the pretentiousness of most other Nigerian TV shows. A relatively young show in its third season, it shows hints of improvement as time goes on, even as the running time of the show felt like 10 hours, leaving me severely un-entertained. This review is obviously not sponsored by Promasidor, sponsors of the Teju Babyface Show.