Remember “Nasty” Nigel Lythgoe, the mullet-haired pundit who shot to fame as a judge on ITV’s original talent show Popstars – the series that inflicted Hear’Say on the record-buying public?
A few years back Lythgoe left the UK and moved to Los Angeles, where he achieved superstardom by ditching the “Mr Nasty” persona that bought fame in the UK. Now he bestraddles Hollywood as the power-broking producer of American Idol, and creator and chief judge on So You Think You Can Dance? - top-rated prime-time TV show on network television.
So You Think You Can Dance is a talent contest that revolves around “Nice” Nigel using his elevated position to provide a form of therapy to the often-bonkers - and always fame-hungry - contestants. It’s as instantly watchable (and tiresomely predictable) as every other programme in the talent-show genre.
Anyway, I met Nigel last night, at a cocktail reception hosted by the British Film Council. The striking thing about him – and I mean this as a compliment – is just how bereft of star quality he actually is. Lythgoe really does have the haircut of 40-something PE teacher; his suit does indeed look like it came from Burtons. He appears, to all the world, like the sort of bloke who lives in a cul-de-sac in the Wirral and spends Sunday morning washing the car.
We talked about Nigel’s conversion from “nasty” to “nice,” and Dance’s extraordinary success across the world. An Australian version tops the TV charts down under, and it’s a massive hit in Germany (adding tens of millions, no doubt, to his bank balance). The only place the format hasn’t actually sold well is the UK, where despite Nigel’s best efforts - he envisioned it on ITV, hosted by Ant’n’Dec – the only channel that bought it was Living.
All of which reflects a curious phenomenon. In recent years, Britain has exported a host of middle-aged Lythgoe-alikes to America, where they have made it big on prime-time TV. Simon Cowell is now one of the biggest players in Hollywood; Gordon Ramsay’s TV shows are bigger here than in the UK. Even Piers Morgan, of all people, is considered “hot”.
It’s a weird world where a selection of middle-aged blokes, with ropey fashion-sense and dodgy haircuts are considered edgy show-business “properties”. But America can’t get enough of middle-of-the-road Brits. Even nice-but-dreary Cat Deeley is landing prime-time US presenting gigs.
Perhaps, though, a wheel has come full circle. In the early days of television, the USA wanted flash stars, with mega-watt personalities and colourful private lives. Britain, on the other hand, wallowed in a turgid world of middle-aged presenters speaking BBC English. Now, it’s all change: we send our Lythgoes and Cowells overseas – and middle England makes it big in Tinseltown. Somehow, it’s a comforting thought.
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