Animal Planet, rebranding itself in the wake of the loss of Steve “the Crocodile Hunter” Irwin, is continuing down the reality trail. How do I know Animal Planet is rebranding? There’s a new network logo, complete with kicky sideways “M.” These people have Microsoft Paint, and they’re not afraid to use it.
The channel’s slick overhaul is carried through every corner of the promising new Jockeys. (DISH 184, Fridays, 9 PM EST) Pounding hip-hop screeches in and out of the program, and even the font on the title is a steely grey-- a font which looks, incidentally, not unlike it was last seen on the waistband of a reasonably-priced boxer brief. That's no accident. The sport which was once the darling of Hollywood and now fights for a little Chuck Norris glitter is in need of an image overhaul.
And…okay, I’m completely and totally biased. As a racing writer, I’m hanging off the edge of the television set, hoping this series can ignite interest in the struggling sport, sending neophytes to the track in the same way ABC’s Dancing with the Stars has swelled attendance in dance classes across the country. But in order for that to happen, the show first has to be, you know, good.
So is it?
It’s… ummmm… there. I was glad to see that the dangerous, often hardscrabble life most jocks live was highlighted (no, they’re not all rich; no, they’re not all incredibly short; yes, they’re only paid big when they finish in the top three.) The fact that an average of two jockeys die every year on the track is mentioned at the top of every show—after all, this is the only sport in America in which an ambulance follows the athletes. However, that angle quickly slipped into the near-exploitative; the end of the first episode ends with the image of a jockey tumbling from a horse with no word on who he is. Another episode comes to a close in exactly the same way, just as one of the series stars takes a nasty-looking spill.
On the up side, a person titled as “Jimmy The Hat” makes an appearance.
The show’s third episode focuses on the sport’s ridiculous weight requirements, which haven’t budged an ounce from when they were established in an era when the average North American was smaller. Bulimia, anorexia, diuretics—it’s all here.
There’s enough for newbies and old railbirds alike to dig in Jockeys; a soapy sideline romance between two jockeys is thrust to the fore, and a struggling apprentice wins his first race. But at the same time, veteran jockey Mike Smith showed excellent instincts in bidding for a ride on a mare named Zenyatta, who, since the taping of the episode, became the industry star of 2008 and won the Eclipse Award for her category. (The Eclipse Awards, btw, are the Oscars of the horseracing world.) In this way, the series works on two levels—the races themselves add to the drama for the uninitiated, but even though racing dorks like me know how most of the major races are going to end, we enjoy the behind-the scenes dish.
One wise move on the part of the producers is to not rest the burden of exposition on the shoulders of the jockeys, a refreshing shift from most reality programs. A narrator fills the viewers in on the major action, but the writers know when to shut him up when necessary, letting the footage and facial expressions tell the story. However, the slightly skeevy trivia questions which close the end of each segment (did you know that jockey Jon Court has broken over thirty bones? Because he totally has!) need to go far, far away.
I suppose it reflects well on the show that half an hour seems too short for a single episode. The cuts are quick and by the time a narrative arc finds its footing, the credits are rolling.
But I’ll be back next week.
