Source.
Source.
Recently it was announced that a He-Man remake was in the works from G.I. Joe: Retaliation and Justin Bieber: Never Say Never director Jon M. Chu. In the 1987 original, the title hero was played by famed action star of then and now Dolph Lundgren, not to mention also starring Frank Langella as Skeletor. There are high stakes for the remake to match, though Lundgren has some casting ideas that could spice up the planned feature. In an interview with the Huffington Post to promote The Expendables 2, he rattled off a few attributes the new star should have, and put his endorsement behind Channing Tatum and Chris Hemsworth as possible princes of Castle Greyskull.
According to Dolph, the kind of man who can take up his mantle needs to be "well built and charming." He adds that the actor must be able to deliver dialogue as well. When Channing Tatum (Magic Mike) was mentioned he has this to say, "He's got a naturally athletic body. You need real muscles, you need somebody who is built." Later on in the interview, he was asked if he thought Chris Hemsworth (Thor) would be a good pick, to which he replied, "Yeah! That's a good idea. I'm on board." I'll go with whatever you feel is right, Dolph.
Lundgren also expressed interest in playing Prince Adam's father, King Radnor, in the upcoming remake. At this moment there is no official casting news or plot details, but either of Lundgren's picks sounds like they could be fitting actors for the role and generate some box-office revenue. Tatum's history with Jon M. Chu is undeniable, however, so it may sway that way in the end. The question now becomes who will play Skeletor to foil their plans. This could be the nerd in me, but I would love to see Christopher Lee bringing the famous action figure villain to life. Second choice, Christopher Walken all the way.
Paul Wesley tries to get topless scenes written out of The Vampire Diaries and he would much prefer it if his co-star Ian Somerhalder did them instead of him.
Mr Wesley says he doesn’t enjoy being filmed half-naked for the show, and he would prefer it if Ian would be the only star who has to act nude in the programme.
He said: “I try and get those scenes written out! I did a lot in season one, was constantly working out and eating healthily. But I understand some scenes need nudity.
“Ian has to walk around naked non-stop, so I let him carry the baton!”
While Paul enjoys the banter between himself and Ian – who portray vampire brothers in the series – he is glad he doesn’t have a male sibling in real life because he would always be fighting with him over girls.
He added: “No way. I wouldn’t want to have to fight over girls with them. I wouldn’t like the competition.”
For his next role, Paul admits he would be keen to portray an older character.
He explained: “I wouldn’t mind playing a human. As I’m 30, any role where I’m not eternally stuck in the body of a 17 year old, really.”
source
Obama and the pop stars have signed on to support the global campaign for World Humanitarian Day which Beyonce marked Sunday with the release of a new video for her song "I Was Here," filmed at the United Nations in New York last week.
The campaign asks that on Sunday people help others through such acts as making sandwiches for the homeless or volunteering at a local charity.
The goal is to share 1 billion messages of hope.
A representative for Beyonce says that Bieber, Gaga, Obama, Rihanna, Shakira, Jay-Z, Gwyneth Paltrow, Chris Martin and others will participate.
source
How does the most decorated Olympian decompress after a triumphant finale in London? He goes on an all-boys trip to the exotic Maldives. He poses in Louis Vuitton ads in a bathtub and with the previous top Olympic medalist, Larisa Latynina. He also returns to his home pool in north Baltimore.
I spotted Michael Phelps at Meadowbrook on Aug. 16, not at a hero's welcome, but as he worked out and swam. Yes, he is still swimming.
I arrived a little after noon and parked by the graffitied, shuttered Northwest Ice Rink. I walked through the small lot where Phelps often parks and wondered when and if I would see him there again. Would I ever see those long arms extend and almost touch the lane lines before reaching forward to grab the water, like some graceful prehistoric creature?
Not many cars were there. Families were still away for the last hoorah before school. Earlier in the week, I had flown home myself, and my husband could barely find a parking spot to pick me up at BWI. Now, with schools opening soon, more people are in the air or on the road than at the pool. August is the best time for leisurely outdoor swimming at Meadowbrook.
Around the outdoor pool, kids still hung out, tanned, with sun-bleached hair and suits saggier than they had been in June. Splashes from cannonballs off the pool's edge and "can-openers" from the diving board seemed bigger and louder, as if swimmers were aware their pool days were numbered.
In the sand by the deep end, a few adults read, stretched out on towels or in chairs. I recognized one, a longtime regular from Rodgers Forge, who has been sitting in the same spot ever since the facility was remodeled to include the indoor pool. The playground was empty and sunnier, too, since the derecho storm in June eliminated some shade trees.
As I walked to the farthest 25-meter lane by the ladder, a tan, bearded face in the water was looking up, talking casually to a pool manager. Home from the Olympics, there was Michael Phelps in lane 5, not in the London Aquatics Centre, but at humble Meadowbrook.
Soon he turned. His tan back arched, then his signature wingspread sent long arms out and forward in the water. He was swimming at home again, at a relaxed pace, without a cap or racing suit.
His longtime coach, Bob Bowman was not in position at the end of the lane. No one cheered. No photographers or reporters were on the deck. No one crowded by the edge, hoping for autographs. Just a few mothers and kids stood up in the sand.
Deciding not to sit and watch, I kept to my routine. I dove in my favorite lane, number 8, designated in Olympic competition for those with the slowest qualifying times. As I swam, no pronounced wake pushed against me, as it had the evening on9/11, when Phelps, then 16, came to swim, although practice had been canceled. This August day, it was just lap swimmers in the pool, albeit including one who won 22 Olympic medals.
While I swam, the Olympian raised from Rodgers Forge climbed out and stood talking to the older Rodgers Forge resident, then to another woman reading in chair, and later to a North Baltimore Aquatic Club coach and assistant manager.
Then, Phelps pulled red jams over his blue print trunks, slung a backpack over his shoulder and walked out with a buddy, just as he had done thousands of late summer days before.
While being delightedly force-fed 17 days of splendid drama, one annual question has remained resolutely unasked in medialand this August: when will the silly season start?
Worry no more. It kicked in almost as soon as the last firework fizzed out over the last athlete's hangover. It kicked in with something of a confected row over Benedict Cumberbatch – yet a row that has puttered on, because it's about one of those British things about which no consensus can ever be reached yet on which everybody wants an opinion: class. Or Class
On BBC's Breakfast, there were still talking heads debating whether Cumberbatch had been right to "moan" about the occasional sniping he got for being a "posh" actor in this country. The responses were predictable enough. The nicely chippy northern woman declared it "vulgar" of him to even voice a complaint through his mouthful of privilege; the etiquette lady, trying to defend him, said his accent quite possibly held him back from some roles, such as anything involving Danny Boyle. It hasn't, incidentally, most notably when peeling off all on stage for that director's Frankenstein. But if those responses were relatively knee-jerk, that's as nothing to the twitterati, some with something interesting to say about class, a great many without, almost all hampered by the simple Chinese-whisper effect of only having heard that Cumberbatch said something moany about being picked on for being posh.
Let's look at what he actually did say.
Interviewed for Radio Times by Decca Aitkenhead, he talked about sudden real post-Sherlock fame, touched on his personal life and lucidly compared the similarities and differences between that role and the one he brings to our screens soon this Friday, that of Christopher Tietjens in Ford Madox Ford's tetralogy Parade's End, by all early accounts winningly adapted by Tom Stoppard. Both well-spoken, tall, English and Edwardian – in soul anyway, even though Cumberbatch's Sherlock has been so vibrantly updated – and variously tortured gentlemanly souls. But Christopher is taciturn and there is, as Cumberbatch put it, "none of that hyper-articulate mental vomiting. I think people might think, 'Why would he want to do that, because it's nothing like Sherlock?' But that's exactly why."
Then, in some final throwaway comments, he touched upon, or was invited to touch upon, "posh-bashing", and said that sometimes, mainly as a consequence of having been to Harrow, he has been "castigated as a moaning, rich, public-school bastard, complaining about only getting posh roles". Aitkenhead goes on to say: "As he's one of the most gifted, intelligent and likable actors this country has produced, I'm not surprised he can't even be bothered to engage the attack. 'It's just so predictable,' he sighs wearily. 'So domestic and so dumb.' I just hope he's not serious when he adds, 'It makes me think I want to go to America.'"
And there you have it. A half-hearted sigh about being castigated for complaining about only getting posh roles, and what sounds like an end-of-interview joke. Radio Times – perhaps surprisingly for a publication normally viewed as reliable, comprehensive but a bit… Auntie – has, for the past year or two, been knocking out many interviews that have produced the lead item in the next day's papers. They are not averse to taking the slightest of controversies from a celeb's mouth and, while never presumably being actionably inaccurate, still flamming it up to the high heavens. So you can be sure that, had Cumberbatch indulged in any serious kind of rant about class, or seriously "threatened" to go to America, it would have been worked into the intro, if not the headline. And from this, our nation of point-missers erupted into an orgy of castigating him for moaning about only getting posh roles. Which he hadn't.
The problem, of course, is confusion over class: over its very definition, and, in these austere times when we most definitely are not all in it together, over class envy. As soon as John Major pronounced that class was dead, he was condemned – not just for the slightly flatulent wishlist pabulum that clearly wasn't true, but, more crucially, for the flattened vowels in which he said it. Since then, snobberies and ignorances have unwittingly conspired to keep the fluid truth as murkily unknowable as in those early 90s. Poor Benedict even got a mention from the platform from another occasionally misunderstood cove, Michael Gove (like Cumberbatch, another scholarship boy), when he was named, alongside other actors such as Tom Hiddleston and Dominic West, a good handful of leading comedians, the 2010 Mercury winners, England's rugby team, etc, etc, as being inordinately unrepresentative of Britain as a whole, thanks to their fee-paying educations. But Gove – again, read it more carefully – insisted: "It is undeniable that the individuals I have named are hugely talented."
Rather, he was having a passionate pop not at them but at the "morally indefensible" strategy of so many other schools, which allow pupils to leave unable to read, write or add.
But Ben Carlton, as he was once, is now, wittingly or not, part of the usually inane national debate on class and one can only assume his wide-sloping, 36-year-old shoulders have enough heft to cope. Friends say there's not a twitch of doubt about that: he is described as intelligent, yes, but also exuberant, frank, fun and resilient. Both friends and interviewers have spoken and written too of the professional dedication: one second, you've got a relatively young man with an… interesting face – he happily admits to have been described as sexy sloth, startled meerkat, hammerhead shark, but no description prevented him walking away last year with various "sexiest man" and "man of the year" titles – chatting away in a T-shirt at rehearsals, then, on "Action!", transforming those planes of his face in half a second into embodiments of haughty unreason, cold anguish, cruel sarcasm or heart-melting kindness.
It was his agent who suggested he revert to his real name. His father, Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch, and mother, Wanda Ventham, are both actors. "A new agent suggested I go back to Benedict Cumberbatch. I thought it sounded a bit bumbly and messy, but they said it's a great name, it will get people talking about you."
As it did, as did his acting. Long before Sherlock, after Harrow and then swerving becoming a barrister (his first idea) to study drama at Manchester, he was winning plaudits for performances in the likes ofHedda Gabler (Olivier award nomination) and Tipping the Velvet, Tinker Tailor and his mesmerising portrayal of a young Stephen Hawking, in the run-up to which he met the scientist and talked to a number of motor-neurone sufferers: he apparently pre-prepares to the nth degree, reading, for instance, the works of a Golding or a Conrad (and now Madox Ford) before even venturing into the studio.
He is obviously grateful to the sudden mad leg-up Sherlock has given him, has spoken at length about his admiration for the writing, even his love for the character, and there's no doubt about the transformation in recognisability – as Sherlock writer Steven Moffat has said of this: "Sean Connery was nowhere before James Bond." HBO, who co-producedParade's End with the BBC, was reportedly wary of him because no one knew who he was: they were sternly told "but they will". And they certainly do. More impressive is the fact that, before the magical pairing of Cumberbatch with Martin Freeman in Sherlock, someone thought those two would work well together in the forthcoming The Hobbit – Freeman as Bilbo, Cumberbatch as the dragon Smaug.
There is, as Cumberbatch admits, a slight danger of stereotyping. He loves Sherlock, doesn't want to be defined by it forever and consoles himself with the thought that "no one calls George Clooney 'Doug Ross' any more". For the moment, however, he and we are happily stuck for a bit longer with his personification of the most arrogant sociopath ever to trip down Baker Street and later this year/early next will be able to engage in a massive national debate that is actually worth having. How on earth did Sherlock manage to fake his own death?
Born: 19 July 1976, London. Educated at The Brambletye School, West Sussex; scholarship to Harrow; Manchester University; LAMDA. Broke up with long-term (12 years) girlfriend Olivia Poulet last year
Best of times: 2004 began a run of accolades, beginning with the BAFTA nomination for his portrayal of a young, fit, happy, dancing, doomed Stephen Hawking, and there soon followed serious chops for his part in Stuart: A Life Backwards. Also, of course, the first night's broadcast of his first Sherlock, A Study in Pink, which dominated the twittersphere within an hour, and had with two weeks garnered 9m viewers and led Stephen Spielberg, who later cast him in War Horse, to dub him "the greatest ever onscreen Holmes". Sales of Conan Doyle's books instantly rose 180 per cent.
Worst of times: A gap year teaching English to Tibetan monks. We're not saying he didn't enjoy it, just that if he ever should deign to engage in proper class-envy war, then the above phrase sits differently on the page from "year on moors pickling ferrets to help wi' nan's bladderwrack."
What he says: "There are five people at the Royal Court who earn under £500,000 collectively, who bring in over £5m. – that would get you a big bonus in the City. I'm interested in art for all. I don't want it
to be only the sons and daughters of Tory MPs who get to see my
plays."
What others say:
"Cumberbatch … exudes the air of an indie kid in his late teens or
early twenties. He's bright and enthusiastic and friendly – his is the
air of someone who helps mums carry buggies up stairs. When the
read-through starts, however, this gonky teenager disappears. He slips
effortlessly into the stiff-backed, cold-eyed, Pentium-20 brain of
Holmes. His delivery can still the room."
Times writer Caitlin Moran on-set with Sherlock
Elevator doors open. And there they are — Stacy, Clinton and even Randy, cast members from TLC’s “What Not to Wear” and “Say Yes to the Dress,” gazing out from life-size murals adorning the walls of the cable network’s offices.
At every turn of the sixth-floor digs in the headquarters of parent company Discovery Communications, TLC’s reality-show stars greet you
Even the furniture in the waiting area — cupcake-shaped chairs tucked into a cake stand table — is a nod to Washington’s sibling bakers and Jersey’s pastry chieftain whose antics have gained a following for “D.C. Cupcakes” and “Cake Boss,” respectively.
Every colorful quirk of the decor reflects the network’s dedicated exploration of eccentricity. TLC revels in documenting everyday people living life, no matter how bizarre or mundane.
It’s a Wednesday morning in Silver Spring, and Eileen O’Neill, president of TLC and Discovery networks, is ready to talk about vision. She makes her way into the conference room, where general manager Amy Winter is already seated.
Winter is the young, urbane optimist, O’Neill the thoughtful pragmatist. They epitomize TLC’s target audience: women intrigued by the world around them.
“Whether it’s something as controversial as polygamy or as amenable as a baker’s shop, the aim is for the audience to come away with something of value and interest,” O’Neill said when asked about TLC’s programming goals.
What separates TLC from other networks, Winter chimes in, is its “compelling characters” who “tell their stories in a very openhearted way.” Audiences tune in for the authenticity of those stories, for the reality.
Reality TV is at the heart of TLC’s formula, as it is with much of cable television’s, but a sea change may be occurring: Competing networks such as Bravo and History are turning to scripted programming to appeal to an increasingly fragmented audience and to attract ad dollars.
Broadcast networks have long aired original scripted series, while cable channels were subsisting off reruns, documentaries and old movies. Many cable execs found the cost of producing scripted shows prohibitive, yet a few gave it a shot, with mixed results.
The popularity of cheaply produced reality shows gave cable channels little reason to diversify their lineup. But the enduring success of scripted shows such as “Mad Men” on AMC is encouraging more networks to venture into the format.
Wading into scripted programming might be the next logical step in TLC’s evolution.
TLC launched in 1980 as The Learning Channel. One of its early successes was the 1997 docu-reality series “Trauma: Life in the E.R.,” which followed doctors and nurses in emergency rooms across the country. In its seven seasons, it was nominated for four Emmys.
“It became a catalyst for a fair amount of demographic change,” said John Ford, TLC’s first head of programming. “It skewed female, which really caught us by surprise. We weren’t as sophisticated in understanding the gender dynamics back then but learned a lot about our audiences.”
These reality shows ran throughout the day, building TLC’s brand as the channel for “life unscripted” — the network’s slogan in the early 2000s.
When Discovery purchased TLC in 1991, the network was airing a mix of self-help shows, reaching roughly 15 million households and producing $13 million in revenue.
Figuring out what works
By 2001, Discovery had turned the network into a $367 million operation that reached nearly 80 million homes, according to media research company SNL Kagan.
TLC’s next big hit, “Trading Spaces,” which launched in 2000, lured viewers with the unpredictability of people’s reactions to home makeovers led by their neighbors. The show, averaging 4 million viewers, helped catapult TLC into the ranks of the top 10 cable networks.
But by 2005, the show’s fifth season, “Trading Spaces” had lost about 40 percent of its audience and TLC had lost its luster. Washington Post TV critic Lisa de Moraes said, “The show was a victim of its own success, as TLC cloned it and other networks jumped on the makeover bandwagon.”
TLC’s popularity flat-lined for the next few years.
“After the ‘Trading Spaces’ heyday, we started evolving The Learning Channel concept into a live-and-learn kind of thing,” Winter said. “We realized that people don’t mind learning, but they don’t want to be taught. We had a lot of experts on the air but shifted that to people whose life experiences have turned them into an expert.”
Winter pointed to the docu-series “Jon & Kate Plus 8” as an example of average people whose experience in raising eight children made them “a kind of expert in parenting.”
“Jon & Kate,” which debuted on TLC in 2007, became a ratings powerhouse, drawing 10.6 million viewers at one point, when the couple’s marriage fell apart two years later.
Critics lambasted TLC for profiting from the family’s troubles.
O’Neill, who was instrumental in developing “Jon & Kate,” acknowledged that it was difficult deciding whether to proceed with the show in the midst of the divorce. Yet the decision came down to what the family wanted to do.
“They always had the opportunity to stop,” she said.
Setting a tone
In many ways, “Jon & Kate” set today’s tone at TLC. During the show’s five seasons — it was canceled last year — the network rolled out a string of family-centric docu-series, including “19 Kids & Counting” and “Sister Wives.” Each show delved into atypical families.
“Because there are so many media outlets, they needed to find a niche,” said Patricia A. Williamson, a professor in the School of Broadcast and Cinematic Arts at Central Michigan University. “TLC has reinvented itself so many times but seems to have found its stride.”
In reinventing itself, TLC has come under fire for airing shows such as “Toddlers & Tiaras” and “My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding” that critics say are voyeuristic and border on exploitation.
“Those are worlds that exist with or without our camera there,” O’Neill said. “We’re not in the business of disrupting people’s lives. We approach all of our productions as partnerships, so there is a lot of healthy back and forth between our producers and our talent.”
Winter says the full spectrum of TLC’s lineup is “in sync with what our audience expects from us."
Many of TLC’s competitors have embraced a similar view of building their schedules around common themes that in some ways speak to a brand identity. Bravo is where you go for fashion, food and to gawk at women with too much time and money. We TV is where you head to see over-indulged brides behaving badly.
Williamson says networks with heavy concentrations in that type of format are challenged to keep it fresh.
“With some of these docu-reality series, they’ll be hits for a season or two and start to wane in popularity,” she said. “It seems that TLC has realized that and has been cycling through new ideas.”
Still, being known for a type of programming doesn’t preclude cable networks from branching out into new formats. And they may have no choice but to diversify to remain competitive.
Change or die?
As much as viewers eat up reality shows, their appetite for well-executed, scripted shows is just as voracious. AMC proved that with the success of such original series as “Mad Men” and “Breaking Bad.”
“AMC has been on a tear for original-scripted programming,” said Noah Everist, associate director of media investments at ad agency Campbell Mithun.
AMC’s slate of top-rated series such as “The Walking Dead” delivered a 30 percent increase in advertising revenue in the first three months of the year.
“High-quality scripted shows are always in high demand from advertisers,” said Todd Gordon, executive vice president and U.S. director at MagnaGlobal, an advertising firm.
Brands enjoy the cachet of being tied to premium programming and the audience it delivers. Still, advertisers essentially chase ratings and will hitch their wagons to any show that can deliver numbers.
“Top-rated reality shows like ‘American Idol’ and ‘Survivor’ are among the most desirable places to advertise,” Gordon said, “but in general there is more demand for scripted programming.”
As a result, more cable networks are testing the waters.
The History channel made its foray into original scripted programming with “Hatfields & McCoys,” a miniseries that averaged 14 million viewers across its three-night run starting on Memorial Day. The historical drama about warring families set a new record as the highest-rated entertainment show on ad-supported basic cable, according to Nielsen.
History, known for documentaries and reality series such as “Pawn Stars,” is slowly diversifying its lineup. Plans call for History’s first full-scripted drama, “Vikings,” to hit the air next year.
“History has an uber-arching theme. When you go there, you have a frame of reference for what you’re going into. If you’ve already bought into ‘Hatfields & McCoys,’ you’re likely to stick around for the next show. . . . That’s how you build an audience,” Everist said.
History’s sister channel Lifetime — both are owned by A&E Television Networks — keeps adding formats to its repertoire, although it’s not always clear whether there is an overarching theme. The network runs dramas such as “Army Wives,” syndicated series such as “How I Met Your Mother” and reality shows such as “Project Runway.”
Rob Sharenow, Lifetime’s executive vice president of programming, describes the network’s holdings as “a balanced portfolio of investments.” He said the advantage of having a varied slate of genres is “in a down market for one genre, you have yourself covered with the other."
Sharenow explained that Lifetime is also hedging its investments by diversifying its formats. Producing a reality show such as “Dance Moms” comes at a fraction of the cost to produce a scripted series such as “Army Wives.”
A scripted series can pencil in at $1 million per episode, whereas reality shows come at 10 to 20 percent of that cost, estimates Williamson, of Central Michigan. Cable networks are taking that expense into consideration as they wade into dramas and sitcoms.
Bravo, for its part, is starting out with two scripted shows due out next year. The network that built the “Housewives” franchise is sticking to its lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-naughty theme. One show, “22 Birthdays,” follows wealthy families as they throw lavish parties, while “Blowing Sunshine” looks at the interactions of staff members and patients at a private rehab center.
“The best brands have a great portfolio of different types of experiences,” said Jerry Leo, executive vice president of program strategy and production for Bravo. “We’re strong now with six nights of original programming and it just made sense to take it to the next level. We’re close to the top 10 and believe scripted [shows] will catapult us there.”
Leo said Bravo never aimed to be a reality network; it just wanted to garner a strong enough following to justify the cost of scripted programming. After six years of growth, he said the company has the financial wherewithal to endure the risk of bankrolling a fictional series.
“Scripted is a natural fit for Bravo because the brand lends itself to drama,” said Gordon of MagnaGlobal. “It’s a little bit harder to think of a scripted series that would fit the TLC brand.”
It’s not like TLC hasn’t dabbled in scripted programming in the past, but those attempts have mainly been reenactments in documentaries.
“We are always open to exploring different formats, as long as they fit our brand promise,” Winter said. “We just don’t have anything in the works at present.”
For now, TLC plans to build upon its successful franchises. Winters said the network is expanding its Friday night block of wedding shows to Thursday, with two hours of “Four Weddings,” a bride competition. The network is also rolling out three more wedding shows next year, including “Maids of Dishonor,” a show about — you guessed it — troublesome maids of honor.
Tried and true
While it has been years since TLC has cracked the top 10 cable network ranks, Nielsen routinely lists several of its shows, including “Long Island Medium” and “Say Yes to the Dress,” as top prime-time cable programs among women.
Those shows have helped boost ad revenue, which SNL Kagan pegs at about $323 million, up from $297.4 million at the end of 2011. The channel airs in 99 million homes in the United States and 227 million abroad.
“TLC is parked in an area that is pretty versatile, has lots of potential and possibility for a wide audience,” said Robert Thompson, director of the Bleier Center for Television and Popular Culture at Syracuse University. “Even though they are a specialized network, they are specializing in an area that’s viable.”
Whether that area remains viable for much longer is hard to tell as viewers are fickle. They may tune in for three wedding shows, but six? Titillating often turns into tawdry, and repetition gets . . . well, repetitive.
Everist of Campbell Mithun says specialization may soon lose its value to advertisers.
“Viewership is fragmenting, and as things get more fragmented you can have a proliferation of more niche properties. The question becomes can they make money?” he said. “At some point, you’re going to get so fragmented that the audience reach you have becomes less valuable to general market advertisers.”
If TLC were to hit a long, dry spell with its shows, Thompson imagines the network may feel compelled to vary its formats. Switching up its tried-and-true formula will also depend on whether viewers reach a saturation point for reality TV.
Source