Buried beneath millions of dollars and countless cries of the "apocalypse" is the forgotten fact that MTV’s "Jersey Shore" was a flop in its first airing.
Long before "Snooki" was a household name and "The Situation" (that’s capital S-i-t-u-a-t-i-o-n) was pulling in millions, "Shore" appeared to be on the road to a hasty cancellation. The shock nature of its content and controversy over its portrayal of Italian-Americans only brought 1.4 million viewers to the premiere episode in 2009.
"Jersey Shore," as a concept, was not a hit.
What ultimately generated the buzz and attracted viewers (beyond the brutal punch a man delivered to Snooki in the show’s most infamous clip) was the abundance of personality on the show. The cast members were all at once repugnant and brilliant, combining foul-mouthed, immature, sexist antics with a surprising sense of wit and an undeniable presence.
We knew they were mugging for the camera, yet we wondered the extent to which they were "in" on the joke, to which they knew viewers were laughing at them as much as they were with them.
Because they entered the lucrative world of entertainment without necessarily "paying their dues" and polishing a theatrical craft, crediting reality cast members with anything but the downfall of America is taboo. Crediting those who made their money swearing, drinking, fighting and having sex on national television is downright heresy.
But no matter how unfair it seems, the cast members were what attracted audiences and buzz. They were the show, and it is why MTV and club promoters were willing to fork over thousands and thousands of dollars to nobodies who "had no talent."
From looking at the way "Shore" developed, MTV knew that people were not watching to see the "wild antics that go on at Seaside Heights." They were not watching for the simple drama of random individuals living together. They were watching to see these specific, ridiculous characters go through situations that, in all honesty, were not that much unlike our own.
And yet, as MTV prepared for "Shore"’s decline and exit with a replacement set in rural West Virginia, it completely forgot the lesson it learned from its audience.
New series "BUCKWILD," essentially a country answer to "Jersey Shore," centers on the surprisingly-wild happenings of twentysomethings in a quiet West Virginia town. Aware that MTV’s vision of "youth" is largely dictated by metropolitan culture from the East and West coasts, the show was marketed on the unfamiliarity of southern antics. Need a thrill? Gather your friends and go "muddin’." Need a swim? Fill a dump truck with water and hop on in!
Along with the drinking, sex and fights that had a former home on "Jersey Shore," it was the unusual antics of West Virginia’s young adults that served as the hook for the show. The characters’ passion for the simplistic and unrefined promised a totally-foreign escape for white collar viewers watching from their urban lofts.
It also, for the crueler viewer, positioned itself as an opportunity to claim superiority and poke fun at the "redneck lifestyle" embraced by West Virginia’s young adults.
But this concept-based push for "BUCKWILD" conspicuously lacked any emphasis on the characters. And with good reason—unlike the loud, unmistakable personalities on "Jersey Shore," the "BUCKWILD" cast members are largely interchangeable, non-descript and without any marketable personality traits.
Rather than fitting into the loudest and most exploitable of regional stereotypes, the twentysomethings are all fairly plain, differing little from any young adult that would be featured on MTV. Some have thick accents, but there is nothing inherently unusual about their behavior.
Do their houses look different? Sure. Do they spend their days differently than Northeasterners? Sure. But the given the uniqueness of their situations, there is little particularly compelling about how they choose to operate within those constructs.
And even if they were collectively different from the general MTV viewer (and they are not), how are they different from each other? What are the elements on which fans can determine whom to support and whom to loathe?
The sole exception to this argumentation is Shain--a rural purist who "ain’t got no phone, no Facebook, none of that Internet stuff"--but insofar as he is in his natural habitat, none of his quirks are amplified for the audience. Cast on "The Apprentice," he would make a potentially strong fish-out-of-water character, but on a show that merely asks him to relax with friends, occasionally partake in some reckless outdoor activity and drink, he rarely comes off more meaningfully than as "one of the gang."
An innocuous cast can still be a successful one if overflowing with presence and star quality. "BUCKWILD" is unfortunately not struggling to contain its cast’s charisma, and that is a problem that would have plagued the show regardless of its setting and expectation of exploitation.
Wildly active on Twitter and Snapchat, the "BUCKWILD" cast members clearly enjoy their newfound fame—they want to be stars. But when filming, none showed any ability to command the camera and control the narrative. None showed any interest in creating a character and forging a special relationship with the viewing audience.
Even when the "Jersey Shore" cast seemed fully-immersed in the drama on the set, the standouts always seemed driven to put on the most exciting show possible for viewers. They would overplay certain emotions. They would pick fights that were unnecessary. They would deliver catchphrases and witty one-liners that were made for nowhere if not the television medium. They, at the end of the day, cared about branding themselves through the adventures on the show.
Even though just as much production and editing (maybe more, according to some) goes into creating the "BUCKWILD" experience, the cast members seem far too committed to low-key authenticity. When Cara, the WVU-educated newcomer over whom all the boys are swooning, and Tyler, the resident pretty boy (seriously, that is his entire characterization), hook up in another cast member’s bed, neither embraces the groups’ hate/jealousy/outrage to make a statement. Rather than dropping F-bombs, insulting the other girls, bragging about the hookup and making herself the attraction, Cara gets in a car and drives away.
Tyler, meanwhile, shrugs off the situation with a deadpanned "sorry." It’s a mildly funny reaction, and it is easy to see why he is likable in real life, but it is not the kind of line delivery that gets one "over" as a television star.
Viewers want to expect fireworks from the narratives, and they want the characters involved to be just as explosive. By brushing the situation off as trivial, Tyler invites the viewers to do the same. That is not how one builds excitement around a personality or a storyline.
Learning from MTV’s Mistake
Thanks to "Jersey Shore," MTV had a rare opportunity to understand how its audience consumes "roommate" reality series in the 21stcentury. Outrageous concepts will draw a small, curious audience, but the ticket to success is the level of personality populating that universe.
MTV’s strategy for "BUCKWILD" suggests it read that sentence in reverse. Instead of finding an arena for standout personalities to emerge and captivate audiences, MTV reduced the record-breaking success of its "Shore" franchise to environment and concept. And it is paying the price.
"BUCKWILD" has performed competently thus far, but it is showing no sign of becoming any sort of "hit" in the old "Jersey Shore" timeslot. And media interest in the series is scarce.
Brand marketers and strategists need to marry themselves to behavioral insights and trends. It is not enough to know that a product is successful—it is imperative to know why it is successful. It is imperative to know how the market’s support for the brand changes as a result of different initiatives. True, success is success, but that success can only be repeated—and grown—if it is understood.
Customer makeups and preferences constantly evolve, and that means brands must keep a watchful eye over how their product is being consumed. The brand’s identity from yesterday might have no relevance in today’s market, and it surely will be obsolete by the time tomorrow rolls around.
The core of a brand is not simply to protect an archaic mission statement but to connect with customers in the desired manner. And if the data suggests an opportunity to strengthen those connections, successful brands will adapt accordingly—even if it feels like an admission of defeat.
MTV’s vision for "Jersey Shore" was a failure, but "Jersey Shore" was not…and it still belonged to MTV. In creating "BUCKWILD," "Shore" needed to embrace the "Jersey Shore" that did connect with customers rather than the one that it initially hoped would.