Britain loves a good gameshow. And if there weren’t enough on our screens already, the quizmasters-in-chief, ITV, recently announced that they would be bumping off the reality-focused ITVBe in favour of a new channel dedicated to them. Hopefully it will have some better programmes than Genius Game (Wednesday 30 April, ITV1), a new series that answers a question no one was asking. Namely, what if we had more light entertainment shows that felt like being back in GCSE maths?
Frustratingly, Genius Gameshouldbe good. David Tennant is the host, for God’s sake (though he joins the show via Zoom – maybe he’s elsewhere in the studio, or even at home, perhaps already aware it wasn’t worth the three-hour round trip from London, where he lives, to Maidstone in Kent, where it was filmed). Based on a South Korean series, a group of “geniuses” must compete in puzzles and games based on strategy and social manipulation, with Tennant confined to a TV screen in the corner, doing a very loose impression of Richard O’Brien inThe Crystal Maze. Contestants include Bodalia, an NHS doctor who is also a touring DJ; entrepreneur Bex, who doesn’t think academic qualifications are the be-all and end-all, but does proudly possess a 100m swimming badge; and comedian Ken Cheng, who is easily one of the funniest people on LinkedIn, known for his satirical posts that send up “hustle and grind” business culture. There seems to be real potential at the outset, with the sense that this bunch were cast for their charisma as much as their IQs (or, as lecturer Benjamin puts it, “I applied for gay Love Island, so I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here!”) Oh, and there’s a £50,000 prize pot, which isn’t to be sniffed at.
Sadly, though, Genius Game is dire – the TV equivalent of walking into a party halfway through an extremely convoluted game you never quite catch up with, and which is unthinkably dull to boot. After eight minutes of indeterminable explanations, the first episode begins with a challenge centred on stealing money from hypothetical vaults. It has the air of a logic puzzle, but also relies heavily on the kind of alliances you’ve seen on literally every other reality TV show ever broadcast. Forensic scientist Scott declares himself to be “ruthless”, while doctor Bhasha says she’s “good at coming across trustworthy”. All of this would be really helpful if it were compelling telly, and not the sort of thing that requires regular onscreen diagrams and voiceovers to make sure the audience at home are still following. Where it does try to do “drama”, it ends up looking more like a guide to committing elder abuse; a retired businessman called Paul is reduced to a patsy for Scott’s scheming, and is locked away in a big cage in a way that feels undignified for everybody involved.
As for the puzzles, you know that there’ssomethingvaguely intelligent happening here, but it’s all explained so poorly that Genius Game often feels like watching the Mitchell and Webb sketch where a quiz host shouts “Numberwang!” at random. In episode one, you can actually see the contestants blinking in slow motion as they figure out what they’re supposed to be doing – never a good sign. In episode two, the challenges are a little easier to understand but, sadly, just as boring. The main task (“humans” and “zombies” trying to work out who is who, to gain the most points) has nothing of the wit or the high-stakes backstabbing ofThe Traitors. By the time we make it to what is supposed to be a thrilling finale featuring a giant noughts and crosses board, my brain has switched off entirely. I am left pining for a real ITV quiz: a classic episode of The Chase, or even something featuring Ant and Dec. Where’sStephen Mulhernwhen you need him, eh?
It would be easy to say that Genius Game is too lofty, misunderstood by the narrow-minded idiots at home. But nerdy gameshows can and do work: just look at Only Connect or University Challenge. The important thing is that they have to be entertaining, too – and it doesn’t take a genius to see that this one falls flat.