After what feels like a lifetime of buildup and anticipation, "Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution" finally premiered on March 26 at 8 p.m. on ABC. The basic premise of the show is that Oliver, a British celebrity chef best known by his moniker "The Naked Chef," spent time in Huntington, W.Va., last fall to try to get people to eat healthier. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, almost half of the adult population of the city is obese, and Huntington has been dubbed "the fattest city in America" as a result of these statistics.
Since I did not jet off to some exotic locale last week and spent the majority of my vacation in rotating shifts between my couch and my bed, the premiere was something for me to look forward to. The buzz surrounding "Food Revolution" has been around for months, and the show seems to cause strong visceral reactions in people. Some talk about Oliver like he is on a holy mission to save Americans, while others paint him as an insufferable British nutcase who needs to head back across the pond. I have had mixed feelings about the show for some time, wavering between the two camps. I want to try to reserve judgment until the entirety of the show has aired — the premiere was only the first in a six−part series.
Regardless of how I end up feeling about the show in the end, the one thing that has completely fascinated me about "Food Revolution" is the advertising campaign surrounding it. The name of the series says it all and provides the crux of the problem of promoting the show: How do you advertise a revolution?
You get Ryan Seacrest and Oprah involved, that's how.
First, let's tackle Mr. American Idol himself, who is a producer of the series. Seacrest and his team know how to sell reality television. From a business standpoint, "Food Revolution" is just another TV show that needed to be sold to a network, get airtime and sell ad space. The show needs to make money. From an entertainment standpoint, the show needs to be interesting, riveting and thought−provoking. So from the entertainment business standpoint, which Seacrest specializes in — the guy practically owns the E! Entertainment Network — it needs to be a moneymaker that that will spark people's interest and bring viewers in.
That's where the commercials come in. The advertisements for "Food Revolution" span the emotional gamut. Some play out like a horror scene: shots of massive coffins specially designed for the deceased obese, people sitting besides mountains of processed, fatty foods and clips of children who are unable to identify a tomato. Other ads were more somber and serious, with statistics about the obesity epidemic and a call for things to change. A few advertisements were downright heartbreaking, with Oliver on the verge of tears discussing his desire to help people. The commercials played to every possible aspect of a reality television show.
Then, if those ads weren't enough, you add Oprah to the mix. When Miss O puts her stamp on something, it's pretty much guaranteed to become a success. Both Seacrest and Oliver appeared on "The Oprah Winfrey Show" on Friday afternoon before "Food Revolution" aired. Oprah, Oliver and Seacrest all discussed their own issues with weight and how their personal struggles have inspired them to support the show. They want things to change so that future generations can have healthier habits than they have had. It was heartwarming and inspiring, and really humanized the point of "Revolution."
The Seacrest−Winfrey effect worked: "Revolution" got 7.5 million viewers, an impressive feat for any Friday night show. So say what you want about the premise of the show, but in the end, the "Revolution" has successfully been televised.
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Caryn Horowitz is a senior majoring in history. She can be reached at Caryn.Horowitz@tufts.edu.
