BLAIR WOYNARSKI
Arts Writer

On Oct. 25, the sixth season of Canada’s Worst Driver will begin its run on the Discovery Channel. Most people reading this don’t care, but I do. I, along with many others across this country was bitten by the Canada’s Worst bug some years ago and haven’t recovered.

Reality TV has been a fact of life for the past decade, and it will continue to be one for at least one decade more. As the world of TV continues to expand, finding quality programming becomes an exercise of fishing in increasingly murky water. This goes double for reality TV. Many insist on writing off the entire genre as dismal trash but it is possible, within the morass of Jersey Shore and I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!, to name a few gems. My old reality darling was The Amazing Race, though now in its 17th season, the novelty is wearing a little thin. But a couple new winners have stepped up, and could only have happened in Canada.

Canada’s Worst Driver premiered five years ago and caught a lot of people by surprise. The main reason for this is that it was actually good. The premise, for those of you who haven’t heard of it, is that it takes eight people voted the worst drivers in Canada and puts them through a series of driving challenges in order to decide who is the worst of all.

Each driver has a nominator (family member or friend) who accompanies them in their challenges, offering helpful advice (or verbal abuse, as the case may be). Contestants are first gauged on how they perform in their own environments and then are taken to a secluded “driving rehab” for the remainder of the show. Weekly, one driver who is deemed no longer a road hazard gets to graduate from the show and the one person remaining in the end is crowned Canada’s Worst Driver.

Once treated with the summary, potential viewers tend to treat the show with disdain. I know I did. I saw it as childish and exploitative. To an extent, I can’t argue with that. Reality TV is necessarily exploitative, because it needs to be entertaining.

But it’s not empty exploitation. Driving rehab really works, and viewers can see the progression of the drivers through the eight-episode arc. The results are decided by a panel that can include police officers, driving experts, psychologists and other professionals, who assess the contestants’ physical, mental and emotional stability behind the wheel. So I guess you could say it’s an altruistic exploitation.

Canada’s Worst Driver went on to spawn Canada’s Worst Handyman. Much the same idea, only five hopelessly inept handypersons are elected to perform renovations on an unfortunate building. Rather than graduating, at the end of each episode awards are given to the worst and most improved contestants, with the big Canada’s Worst Handyman trophy handed out at series end. They are tutored by two construction experts and then sent to complete a series of challenges, which are judged at the end of each episode. But they must also compete in group challenges where they have to work together.

Why do these shows work? To start off, they’re hilarious. You have to laugh at these people, because they behave in wildly unbelievable ways. But at the same time, they give you a chance to laugh at yourself, at all the stupid things you’ve done and are glad were not broadcast on TV. And you root for them. It isn’t something like Wipeout where it asks you to laugh at someone’s misfortune for 30 seconds and then have them promptly disappear. You are dragged through an emotional journey with these people, only without the petty scheming of Survivor. Some you may hate but for the most part you want to see if they’ll finally roll the boulder over the top of the mountain.

The other reason these shows work is the talents of their host Andrew Younghusband. He is everything you can ask for in a TV host. Without a smug or self-indulgent bone in his body, he’s self-effacing and thoughtful, but witty and sarcastic, with small bits that verge on melodramatic and slapstick. He also has the uncanny ability to say exactly what the audience is thinking. He’s always ready with a quip or a look of exasperation to the camera, and also engages with the contestants and helps them work through it, rather than just barking announcements and laughing.

But sadly, the Americans have gotten their hands on this idea now too. America’s Worst Driver lacks the charm of its northern cousin. Instead of a progressive season, it introduces three new drivers at the beginning of each episode, so they are paraded in front of the camera to be laughed at without ever establishing a relationship with the audience. And unlike in Canada, where drivers are put into courses specifically tailored to teach a certain driving skill, and are given a crash course on how to do it beforehand, the American drivers are thrust into random challenges with no guidance at all. And with the short time allotted, it makes no pretences at actually rehabilitating drivers. It simply pits them against each other in competition. Whoever performs the worst gets their car destroyed at the end of the episode (by trash compactor, flamethrower, monster truck, etc.). Doubtless the producers compensate the contestants for the lost vehicle, so it ends up being another showcase of shameless consumerist waste for the sake of seeing something go boom.

Canada’s worst drivers and handymen are never actually in competition with one another. Each challenge is a simple pass/fail, and scores are never compared. Even though only one person will receive the ignominious distinction, it is clear that they are only really competing against themselves and improving their own skills.

The humour isn’t free — you have to locate the dark recess of your soul that allows you to laugh at the misfortune of others — but it’s not just about laughing at bad drivers. Nor is it a petty competition. People go in one end of the show and they come out the opposite end better than they were before, with no additional prizes needed. Only in Canada.