I'm not sure whom I'd rather meet in a dark alley - Danielle, a Philadelphia meter maid, or Hellga, one of NBC's "American Gladiators." While Hellga resembles a giant Dolly Parton statue made of glistening steel, with furious eyes that say she wants to swat you silly with a wooden oar, Danielle has a ticketing pad, a pen, and an intimate knowledge of the parking rules. She's fiercely powerful, as she proved last week on A&E's "Parking Wars," shouting down a pair of angry men who parked too long in a rush-hour zone.
Either way - Danielle or Hellga - the experience is going to be friction-filled. Both "Parking Wars" and "American Gladiators" are new reality shows that trade in hostile encounters, turning charged human conflict into entertainment. Whether it's a "Gladiators" contestant getting jousted by a 250-pound dude with eye liner named Titan, or just a Philadelphia driver watching her car get summarily fitted with a boot and towed away, there is sweat, there are tears, and sometimes there is blood. For viewers, both shows are built to offer schadenfreudian pleasure, the vicarious relief of watching someone else take a hit.
"Parking Wars," which airs tonight at 10, is slightly better than it should be. The show simply follows the daily work of the men and women of the Philadelphia Parking Authority - ticketers, booters, the tow squad, and those at the impound lot - in the same way "Miami Ink" follows the mundane doings of artists at a tattoo parlor.
But urban drama erupts on a regular basis. We are all extremely attached to our cars, and many of us can barely function without them. We don't take immobility lightly. "It's the Gestapo," one guy complains at the PPA office, where he is unsuccessfully trying to regain custody of his ride. Middle fingers are thrown regularly in "Parking Wars," along with insults. "Do you even have a high school degree?" snaps one man at the ticketer who just targeted his car. You don't see most of the citizens of Philadelphia going down without a fight.
At moments during "Parking Wars," you will find yourself on the side of the driver as you watch victims of wrongful towing get sucked into the maw of the PPA bureaucracy. But the more time you spend with the PPA workers - Jeff the handsome, lighthearted ticketer, or Maria the sympathetic impound lot worker - the more you see the story from their side, too. You begin to understand - and giggle at - just how many drivers lie about how they landed in an illegal parking space or how they came to owe hundreds of dollars. They certainly lie with commitment, and argue with passion; but the PPA workers - psychic gladiators in their own way - remain unmoved.
"American Gladiators," which airs on Monday nights at 8, is far more stagy, of course. The show, a revival of the early 1990s syndicated series, pits contestants against gladiators in a collection of physical challenges. Ultimately, one winner will take home $100,000, a car, and the possibility of becoming a future "American Gladiators" gladiator. Everyone who goes onstage in the stadium is a showman, or a wannabe showman. The contestants brag about their own greatness, while Militia, Wolf, Fury, Mayhem, and the rest of the athletic gods brag right back at them. The trash-talking is more theatrical - but less spontaneous and intense - than it is on "Parking Wars."
"American Gladiators" becomes tedious after a short while. The lighting, so brashly white, starts to irritate, as does the hollow soundtrack. The challenges, which require crawling, running, wrestling, and dodging, are too simple to get caught up in. You want to root for the psyched-up contestants, many of whom tell sob stories to explain their motivation to win. But their fights aren't very engaging. I'd rather watch their cars get towed.
Matthew Gilbert can be reached at gilbert@globe.com. For more on TV, visit boston.com/ae/tv/blog/.
