The game show sensation The Price is Right has been a daytime television staple for thirty plus years. Day after day geriatrics, stay-at-home moms and college students alike tune in to enjoy their daily dose of Bob Barker. But why do we find watching the same man push the same Formica dinette set week after week, year after year so utterly fascinating? Why haven’t the producers of the show changed the host or retired the decorative stage panels upholstered in the day glow colors that were so popular in nineteen seventy three?

Postmodern psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan knows why, because we humans derive pleasure not from desire and attainment but from repetition and variation. If people derived pleasure from attainment, once we got that new car or job promotion we would never desire anything else and live in a state of complete contentment ever after. Instead, we find pleasure in repetitive actions with a little variation thrown in for good measure.

The brilliant minds behind The Price is Right bank on the satisfaction their viewers get from repetition and variation; this is evident in nearly every facet of the show. Probably the most blatantly obvious example of repetition and variation are the visual elements of the show. The host has always been Bob Barker. Bob always wears a monochromatic suit, but the viewer never knows if today he will wear the blue or the green. Another example is the talented women who display and model whatever item is on the block. These women are equally enthusiastic about all the prizes they display, whether it’s a can of AJAX or a thirty foot yacht. They always exhibit the same toothy smile, wear the same outfit and most importantly have the same leggy figure. The bit of variation here is the product they’re stroking or the ethnicity of the woman.

The most important characteristic of The Price is Right, however—what really ensures the viewers gratification and thus that they’ll tune in at the same time tomorrow—is the organization of the show. The show always begins with Bob’s welcoming message, which contains a varying, but consistently unfunny comment about the studio audience and then the first panel of four contestants are selected from the audience; thus the ritual commences. The ritual continues with the preliminary bid, and then a panel member gets to go on stage and compete for a prize. This is where variation comes into play. When contestants, especially women, win the bid and make it up on stage, they feel compelled to tell Bob how much they adore him. Some might kiss him, some hyperventilate, some dance about or make bizarre noises, but the best is when a contestant does a combination of these. The viewer derives incalculable pleasure from witnessing a contestant as they make a complete fool of themselves on national television. The show progresses in this pattern, next is the wheel spinning, then another round of individual games followed by yet another wheel spinning, and then finally the Showcase Showdown. This pattern continues unfailingly with a variation in prizes and contestants.

The ritual pattern is soothing and comforting, like the routine one goes through before bed. The variation exists to keep the viewer from becoming completely bored and provides an excuse to tune in each day. This perfect blend of repetition and variation make for the viewers most pleasurable game show experience, thus ensuring that they tune into The Price is Right repetitively, hopefully with little variation.

*A Concerned Viewer Against The Cancellation Of Good Shows

A reader-oriented criticism of the television game show The Price is Right may initially seem strange, but from a psychoanalytic vantage point it reveals a lot about the viewer’s relationship to the viewed. From a phenomenological standpoint, the said text exposes many things about the audience’s expectations when confronted with the text and the subsequent pleasure that is derived. Two concepts must be addressed in order to understand this confrontation from a structuralist standpoint: how the viewer is drawn into the program and how the text maintains viewership once this draw has been established. These two questions can be answered when viewed through the critical window of Lacanian psychoanalytic theory.

The Lacanian thesis of repetition and variation can be better understood in the light of its antithesis: desire and attainment. According to Lacan, desire and attainment are not what the subject finds pleasure in, but rather a sense of drive that is established through repetition and variation. For the subject, however, this instinctual need for repetition and variation is only achieved through a complete sublimation of the process into an appearance of desire and attainment. The subject desires, therefore inadvertently creating a pattern of repetition and variation that gives him pleasure. This subconscious transfer can be seen in The Price is Right. This addresses the first question of how the viewer is drawn into the program. The television game show lures viewers in with promises of “challenges” and “victories.” The challenge/victory pattern is nowhere more evident than in The Price is Right; a show punctuated with a variety of mini-games.

Although the competition of the show may in fact be what draws the viewer in, it is far from the actual operating factor that keeps them involved in the show. Repetition and variation is integral to this operating factor. The typical narrative sells itself based on syntagmatic mystery. This mystery is created by the ongoing tension that exists between the pretension and retention on the part of the viewer. “What is going to happen next” is the common motivating factor in a narrative. The game show does not operate within this system. A show like The Price is Right is based on paradigmatic mystery. “What is going to happen this time” is a much more common question in the game show system. When the emcee calls the next contestant to “come on down,” the viewer is not given pleasure by the fact that the contestant has desired to be a contestant and attained this achievement, but pleasure is derived from the repetition of the calling of a contestant and the variation of who that contestant will be. Will the contestant be a college student this time or military personnel? Will they be attractive? Will they behave in a crazy manner? This same repetition and variation can be seen in the revelation of prizes. As always, the prize is revealed from behind a gigantic telescopically retracting door, but what the prize will be changes from game to game. Will it be a sailboat or a snow blower? Finally, the minigames complete dependence on chance supports this theory. The viewer would get the same pleasure out of continually rolling dice alone in his living room as he would from the minigames on the show. What he derives pleasure from is who is winning and how they react “this time.”

The structure of The Price is Right reveals a lot about the viewer’s phenomenological relationship to the text when understood from a psychoanalytic standpoint. The viewer is drawn in through desire and attainment and his viewership is maintained through repetition and variation.

The Price is Right is more clearly a text of repetition and variation than restless legs syndrome is a medical condition. In only a few minutes, you can easily spot the repetitive signifiers of this game show: nametags on everyone; bright, loud colors everywhere; and the same ecstatic look to each and every audience member—yelling and jumping and flailing their limbs about. And although there are countless winners throughout the program (whom you can “win” right along with), the success of this 33 year old game show comes not from the amount of winners, or winnings, but from the various ways in which they can win. (Putting new life into the phrase, “it’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game”).

Even the set of the legendary game show suggests a very conscious attempt in creating a pleasurable ambiance for its viewers through repetition and variation. Matching the odd, animated frame for the opening shots of the show, is another fabulous display of blinking lights—lining nearly every backdrop, prize room, and the Showcase Showdown wheel. Like festive chaser lights that can be found for purchase in supermarkets at Christmas time, these lights blink in a repetitive pattern so predictable that they become almost hypnotizing. There is no conclusion to their chase—no capture and no attainment. Consider the alternatives: a string of lights that constantly stays on or, perhaps, lights that blink on and off together, in sync. The first would not satisfy viewers with repetition, and the latter would not satisfy viewers with variation. (And, let’s face it, neither is as fun, exciting, or glamorous).

Continuing in this fashion are the games themselves. First, in order to get from the contestant’s panel to the side of 81 year old host Bob Barker, you must be able to bid correctly on anything from a swing, to a recliner, to luggage—to “unique” night vision equipment (“for all of your exotic optical illusions”). You win by guessing the right numbers. And then you go on…to guess some more numbers! Let ‘Em Roll, Safe Crackers, Squeeze Play, Dice Game—despite the difference in their names, they’re all the same. Guess the price, roll the dice, ask the audience and bite your lip. The formula hasn’t changed in years.

But then there’s the wheel. Exactly two times in every episode the Showcase Showdown wheel comes into play. And exactly two winners, by chance, get closest to a dollar, which allows them to go on to the final round of winners. Again, pretty predictable—until someone like Jillian hits the special $1.00 notch and gets an extra $1,000 and a bonus spin. This is an exceptionally rare and unexpected treat. But when it happens, it’s more exciting than a barrel full of monkeys. Ah, variation…

The bottom line is that, ultimately, it doesn’t matter who wins the Showcase Showdown. Desire and attainment have no part in the enjoyment of the game, unless you’re the contestant and you really need that Ford Focus.

“We can never experience a narrative text in its totality while we are reading it; we are always someplace 'inside' its structure rather than outside of it contemplating it as a whole.” (Robert Allen 109).

There is no beginning and end to The Price is Right. It began 33 years ago and is much the same now as it was then. The end will come sometime when Bob Barker dies, but within the context of the show there is no end to these shows. The Price is Right is what it is when you are watching it. The contestants might be slightly different and Bob’s hair is now white and not black, but these are variants in a show that for syntactical purposes is always the same. We will never attain an end understanding by watching on episode of the show. We can mark the achievements of the show up till now, but these “achievements” (longest running, most popular host, etc.) are not apparent in the midst of the show. If there is any desire and attainment to the show it is being a viewer for so many years and finally getting to be a contestant. But that desire and attainment takes place outside of the structure of the show and has nothing to do with desiring and attaining the prizes offered by The Price is Right.

People desire to be on The Price is Right so that they can be a physical part of the show—so that they may actually do what they have been pretending to do everyday as they watch the show. The viewer is built into the show as the show is built into the viewer’s life. The show begins with a shot of the screaming, thrashing, waving crowd framed by flashing lights. The up beat The Price is Right music chimes in and the announcer barks his greetings as the camera pans across the seemingly endless crowd. This shot acts as a mirror and integrates the viewer into the show. The studio audience is involved like a call and response introduction to a show. (I know this is a fake show on another T.V. show but I believe Howdy Doody begins the same way: “Everybody know what time it is?” prompting the response: “Tool Time!” or “Howdy Doody Time!” depending on the example.) The audiences on specific dates and times are there for a role in the show. They always know how to act and what to say, just as we who watch it everyday know. If the audience of The Price is Right were to be silent and still there would be something drastically wrong and upsetting about the show. As the camera pans across the crowd the announcer tells people to “Come on down!” Individuals fly out of the crowd running to contestants row. Then, like the next phrase of a sentence, Bob Barker is announced and the crowd and music swell. The audience, announcer, and viewer greet Bob and wait for him to begin the game, which he does without introduction or niceties.

Bob is there as an integral enforcer of the syntagm. The syntagm is the dogma of this every weekday religion and Bob is the priest that keeps us in line and devoted to the dogma. He encourages and reprimands contestants to keep the syntagm flowing. If a contestant were to stop in mid-play and walk off, Bob would keep the show going even though that incident would be disruptive. Bob would take the incident and make it a variation. When a young frat boy in this episode plays the Tic-Tac-Toe game, Bob explains the game and sets him loose. The contestant takes the X given to him by Bob and places it in one of the only three places where it does not go. Bob corrects him while at the same time makes kind humorous excuses for his grievous mistake. He claims the contestant is colorblind and that was the problem. In doing this, Bob explains the mishap while allowing the contestant and all audiences to enjoy the variation. Bob is critical to the show for this reason. He keeps the enjoyment level up. Had he not been there, the crowd would have berated the poor frat boy in hoots and hollers. When the contestant places the X on the wrong spot, the crowd signals his mistake by roaring with obvious disapproval. They and we at home know he is not supposed to do that. We are all superior. We should be up there we would know what to do. The response from the crowd and the repetition of this particular game causes a home viewer to want to yell at the contestant for his stupidity as well. This is our show and you are a moron for not knowing it. The pleasure of the show is in knowing it, like knowing a buddy you bowl with. He gets drunk and does stupid things. We get pleasure from the repetition and variation. Having conversations about what he did last month or how this time he fell and hurt himself and "wasn’t that funny?" There is comfort in the ritual of it all.

The African-American girl in contestants row has on a shirt. The shirt is black and says in white iron-on letters “Got Bob?” This is a variation on a key element of the show: homemade T-shirts. Hers is particularly wonderful because it ingrates Bob into another prevalent repetition and variation campaign, the “Got Milk?” ads. She and we (studio and home audiences) are participating in a ritual. This ritual goes on without us as individuals. People bid on things they don’t necessarily want. At one time in the episode we watch night vision gear appear to bid on. Who the hell needs or wants night vision gear? The contestants are bidding to get on stage, to be that part of the show. Everyone is there to be a part of the show. All are there to act as paradigms and to do what they can to be a good paradigm. It’s not about the prizes. It’s not about understanding The Price is Right as a whole. The point is to be submerged in the now of the show—to be connected to all The Price is Right lovers of the world and commune in the ritual.

Large numbers of American viewers tune in each day to watch The Price Is Right—a game show that, by all appearances, has been seemingly outdated for thirty years. What is the draw that keeps people tuning in on a regular basis? It is a balance of elements: audience participation, the “gamblers rush,” and the highly pronounced “camp” vibe. Each of these components have been carefully designed and manufactured to produce every bit of what we see.

Auction House-Style Participation and Informality
Encouraged to draw conclusions from the audience, most games within the show include choices the contestant must make. In trying to guess the price of a box of macaroni, the audience invariably shouts a sea of answers much too inaudible for anyone to discern. However, the fact that the audience is part of the process encourages viewers at home to participate as well. The result is an elevated interest. Interestingly, the intrigue toward the show is not at all derived from the possibility of attainment, but rather from America being able to be a part of the show each day from the comfort of their Barca-Lounger.

Mouse + Maze + Cheese = Gamblers Rush
In many cases, the prizes contestants play for are grossly inappropriate for the individual. Though a lady from California wins a snow blower, a lady from Colorado wins a sailboat, and a man with a shaved head wins a hair dryer, none are dissuaded from continuing to compete. Therefore, it is arguable that the prizes are irrelevant and that keeping on the “winning streak” is the true nature of the contestant’s desire.

The “Corny” or “Camp” Quotient
Though the set of the show is draped in colors of Mardi Gras (i.e., green, lavender, and yellow), the announcer speaks too loudly with an over-practiced vocal influx, and the technology of the games and effects on the set are rudimentary. The “camp” quotient of the show truly begins the minute an individual is called from the audience to compete. Contestants bound and hop from the stands as they approach the bidding podium. Awkward, and even seemingly “goofy,” they nervously give too much information about themselves or even go so far as to criticize themselves. The result: anyone watching the show suddenly feels glad they are not the contestant and gets an ego lift.

Robert Allen states, “Commercial television…constantly addresses, appeals, implores, demands, wheedles, urges, and attempts to seduce the viewer” (102). From the over-enlarged name tags to the ridiculous presentational hand gestures over the prizes by a wasp-shaped, Barbie doll-esque show girl, The Price Is Right delivers an hour of carnival-like folly that is tailored to American audiences. Since the producers have custom fit the show to what the majority of daytime viewers like and want, it stands to reason that the show reflects our national personality. With that having been said, one final thought comes to mind: other countries must think we’re crazy!

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Last update: 1/22/2005