Not another reality show! As if recent concoctions weren’t terrible enough, how could there possibly be anything new?
Except, hang on… Claudia Winkleman is hosting The Traitors and she is surely too clever and brilliant to associate with a dud, so maybe I’ll just have a little watch for five minutes.
Three hours later and I’m shouting at BBC1 for more.
It’s basically the Highlands Hunger Games with paranoia, guilt, backstabbing and betrayal at every turn. Contestants are ordered to ‘murder’ each other in the dead of night.
There are traitors in hooded cloaks, a big stately castle, bonging clocks, a cash prize and before long, everyone is having an existential meltdown. It’s excellent.
The premise sees 22 strangers taken to a castle in the wilds of Scotland where Cluedo Christie vibes take hold. They must collaborate to add money to the prize pot, up to a possible £120,000.
However, three of the players are secretly chosen as ‘traitors’, tasked with bumping off the ‘faithfuls’, who in turn must identify and banish the traitors. “Get them before they get you,” warns Claudia.
No one can be trusted, there are secrets (two are dating, several are actors) and it’s all completely savage.
Peeking out from behind her famous fringe, looking slick in tweed and Fair Isle knitted fingerless gloves, Claudia looks benign… but don’t be fooled.
She’s perfect in this gothic set-up as the witty harbinger of doom, seeing off two players instantly for not backing themselves, and reminding everyone: “No cuddling guys, that’s a different show.”
After the traitors ruthlessly ‘murder’ someone (OK, the victim gets a letter so it’s basically just a postal service), they all start crying over the “power in our hands”.
Claudia, stepping it up, is now wearing black with red PVC gloves. I would like to applaud whoever is in charge of gloves and nail varnish, but I digress. At breakfast it gets a bit am-dram as everyone waits to see who doesn’t turn up.
“Did you sleep well?” snaps Claudia, dropping the victim’s photo on the ground. “Bye, darlings.”
I couldn’t love Clauds more, and I’m weirdly hooked. Originally a hit in the Netherlands, the beauty of this format is that we all love knowing the most.
We know who the traitors are so we can spot the side-long glances, laugh at the idiocy of the faithfuls and shout at the telly when it’s JUST SO OBVIOUS.
From the moody pop soundtrack to the witchhunt format that appeals to the worst of human nature, this intense and twisting spectacle is killing it.
