Shark Tank/Dragon’s Den
Originally written and posted on August 17, 2010.
Loathe as I am to admit it, I tend to watch an anomalous amount of reality television. Not the brand of reality television that involves washed up celebrities living in a mansion or sexy young folk living large on an island in the sun. No, my taste in reality television is a bit more admirable, if you can believe that. I’m quite fond of shows like Canada’s Worst Driver/Handyman, Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares, and Dirty Jobs. I’d wager that the only questionable such show I watch is Survivor, but the sheer malevolence of condemning normal folk to a month on an island with people deliberately picked to clash with their personalities is more than enough for me to enjoy it. But lately, I’ve found myself enjoying a little programme called “Dragon’s Den,” the third season of which CBC has been re-airing on Wednesday evenings for the summer. It’s a show that has business hopefuls display their ideas to five of Canada’s top financers for either funding or ridicule, depending on how good the product is. Naturally, something so good could never have originated from the grey cultural mush that is my fatherland’s culture, and indeed Dragon’s Den is a show Japanese in origin, with various countries, from Finland to the Israel, having had a crack at the venture-capitalist genre over the years (or so says Wikipedia). Now it’s America’s turn to give the concept a shot, their version of which is called “Shark Tank” and had premiered last Sunday. Being a fan of my country’s spin on the genre and piqued by the inclusion of Kevin O’Leary and Robert Herjavec on the programme, both men having been members of Dragon’s Den since it premiered in Canada three years ago, I gave it a look. Should you?
In Shark Tank, prospective builders, inventors, marketers, and entrepreneurs, come before five powerful business executives from a variety of industries in the hopes of securing money and connections in order to bring their idea to the next level. These people decide how much of their company they are willing to sell and for what price (a rudimentary valuation) and do whatever they think is necessary to generate interest among their potential investors, generally consisting of a product demonstration and the recital of some financial figures. The typical pitch usually begins with the formalities of the presenter’s name and origin, followed by the phrase “I’m willing to sell my company for __% for $_______.” The percent offered and the cost are multiplied for a rough valuation model, which is then weighed against other figures the Sharks ask for, such as current profit and projected profit, in order to better understand what the business is worth. Inquiries and negotiations soon follow in the hopes of better understanding what both parties are getting themselves into. It’s not uncommon for additional stipulations (royalties, licensing, etc.) to be laid out and neither businessman nor entrepreneur is obliged to strike a deal. If a deal is made, investor and inventor become business partners. However if no deal is struck, the inventor leaves with nothing.
So far, the major problem with Shark Tank is the lack of chemistry between the sharks themselves. Admittedly only the first episode of the first season has aired, but it’s hard to imagine all five of them interacting with each other in a way that engages the audience at large. Only Kevin and Robert deal with serious business playfully, but when one considers their work as Dragons on the (superior) Canadian iteration, this is their fourth year together on the project and one should expect nothing less. Perhaps it will take a few episodes for all five Sharks to become acclimatized to each other, but they’re off to a cold start. As it stands, it’s difficult to see where they all fit in with the grand scheme of things. Barbara Corcoran is a Manhattan real estate mogul, which is of little help on the panel since the majority of entrepreneurs seek either retail or industrial success. Kevin Harrington is an infomercial pioneer, which means he should come to function as the marketing guru (like Arlene Dickinson from Dragon’s Den), and Daymond John could possibly turn into the group’s risk-taker/philanthropist (again, like Brett Wilson from Dragon’s Den). Still, the American sharks are all too stiff and bland being primarily interested in the big money. Granted that this is the whole point of the show, but dealing with nothing but cold, hard numbers can turn off the average viewer. The success of reality TV lies in the emotional response, however synthetic it may be. Being polite and waiting patiently to have your say is a total betrayal of the concept. Constant interjections and bickering are necessary for enjoyment, and indeed it is the fearlessness of both entrepreneur and expert that makes for a great concept.
As is the tendency for North American reality television, cliff-hanger commercial breaks and prolonged cuts that anticipate a simple “yes” or “no” response are either substituted for or placed ahead of actual drama. I can’t imagine why this should be the case for Shark Tank, though, since there’s hardly anything more exciting than the complete annihilation of a person’s beloved and ambitious pet project by a ruthless executive. For whatever reason, almost all reality programmes have this terrible habit of setting up the hapless for extreme humiliation in front of millions before deciding to alter radically the end result by refusing to pull the trigger. In order to illustrate my point, I feel compelled to bring up The WB’s Superstar USA show that aired around five years ago. A quick synopsis would be that the programme was about finding America’s most obliviously terrible singers in the typical American Idol fashion. In short, the final episode had the dreadful vocalists perform in front of millions before being told the truth that it was all a hoax and that they were actually singing abominations. Yet instead of using the ugly truth to destroy them, the bad news was delivered as politely as possible to the moral of “talent doesn’t matter as long as you believe in yourself blah blah blah… here’s $50, 000 for your troubles.” This is neither a good payoff nor a satisfactory conclusion. This is tantamount to placing a thumbtack on your teacher’s chair only to fill her in on the joke as you whisk away the trap for a cushy massaging velour throne. While the producers might think they’re being upright for sparing the victim’s feelings, they neglect to consider that they might have betrayed the expectations of the viewer.
Now I must recognize that my sentiments are in all likelihood a minority opinion and that it’s safer for executives to water down the animosity of an insult than to follow through on the slight, but my main point is that such reversals have no place in a programme ostensibly about business. Kevin O’Leary often says that his upfront honesty and his willingness to nip a bad idea in the bud at the expense of the originator’s feelings is a kindness that goes unacknowledged. His notion is shared amongst his colleagues on both Dragon’s Den and Shark Tank where it’s mutually understood that nothing is more financially dangerous than an idiot with a bad idea, but both shows depict Kevin and his philosophy in different lights. In Dragon’s Den, the audience understands that the harsh criticism is common among all successful businessmen and that Kevin merely becomes a mouthpiece for it, yet Shark Tank presents Kevin as an adversary to overcome and not as source of wisdom. Come to think of it, this bothered me for most of the programme. So far it seems as is Shark Tank wants the audience to be on the side of the entrepreneur, regardless of how harebrained they are. To be honest, such a claim is currently tricky to assert since the worst idea presented tonight, a panel for post-it notes that attaches to the side of a laptop, might be considered a lucrative investment compared to, say, a bicycle pump powered paint roller (an invention from a Canadian inventor featured in the third season of Dragon’s Den), but Shark Tank makes it quite clear that you’re supposed to feel bad for the salesperson when their pitch falls through. Actually, Shark Time dove for the heartstrings right with the very first presenter who tried to sell his mixed martial arts approved clothing line on a sappy broken jaw story. “Money has no soul and does not care,” quips cruel king Kevin, and our plucky young clothing designer leaves the Tank to burn more money on his fruitless endeavour.
Really though, these are all issues that have the potential to be resolved. If Shark Tank ever manages to come to grips with the cold reality of the business world, with hosts that play off each other and the entrepreneurs at their mercy, Shark Tank could very well become a good show. Good enough, in fact, that I might be willing to overlook the hideous set and presentation in favour of its novel fun. My recommendation would be to watch a few episodes of what other countries have done with the idea (all of Dragon’s Den Canada season three is posted online here), discover exactly what Shark Tank lacks, and pray that it gets better soon.
Kevin O’Leary is the biggest asshole of all time, but he has to be. These Cactus Jacks think they have the next big thing, and if he doesn’t tell them like it is, they just squander all their money on their stupid ideas. I prefer Dragon’s Den because they’re all Canadian so they’re super stingy. You really have to have something good (with those ridiculous shoe shingalings being the exception) to get their partnership!
And yes, I have been a faithful reader of your blog/”musings” since I discovered this gold mine of laughs (2009). Sneaky!
But Maggie, I thought that you of all people would relish in the financial misery of others as they ruin their livelihoods over stupid ideas and get rich quick schemes. Seeing the thick skulled get reprimanded for their lunacy elicits the same misanthropic glee as hearing of something who has maimed or crippled themselves over an accident easily avoidable with nothing more than common sense. Do you really need someone to tell you not to do something so obviously stupid?
I’m also not surprised to know that you lurk about here. I’ve always said that if you write something, anyone with the slightest hint of interest will discover and read it, one way or another. Thanks for reminding me why I’m so apprehensive about doing anything ever.