Teen talent show has too much sugar, not enough spice

After sitting through the first four hours of ABC's new reality contest, "High School Musical: Get in the Picture," and feeling both fidgety and increasingly grumpy, I've come to wonder if reality TV has trained us badly. Are we too battle-hardened or media-jaded to dig into something nice?

By "we," I mean "sentient Americans over the age of 12." And by "nice," I mean a show that tries to assume - and cash in on - the spirit of "High School Musical," the uplifting Disney Channel movie that became a world-dominating brand. (If you haven't seen the touring ice show, perhaps you've spent $20 on an "I Love Troy" plush pillow.)

Yet what might have been a triumph of cross-promotion -Disney owns ABC - has turned into a ratings flop. And the show has turned out to be, not just dull, but weirdly ill-intentioned.

The formula itself is solid: a basic star-search contest in the "American Idol" mold, hosted by Nick Lachey. It started with the cattle-call auditions, then winnowed the group to some ambitious semifinalists. Tonight, we settle in with 12 singing and dancing finalists, who will compete for a membership in what Lachey keeps calling "The High School Musical Family": It sounds like the chance to play foosball with Zac Efron, but turns out to be a starring role in a music video that will air during the end credits of "High School Musical 3." There's also the promise of a contract for two singles from Walt Disney Records.

It's not quite the pinnacle of Hollywood success, but the teenage contestants here take it that way, and the show helps to peddle the fantasy that anyone can get plucked from obscurity and turned into a superstar.

"Get in the Picture" pushes the dream hard and even found some of its semifinalists through secret tapes, sent in by proud parents or drama teachers. No matter how they came before the judges, the auditioners believed in themselves, in some cases a little too much. "There may be only one traffic light in this town, but I am not a one-traffic-light-town girl," one said in the early rounds.

Still, Disney is known for its gentleness, so the judges have delivered their ample bad news with a coating of berry-flavored Children's Motrin. More often than not, a contestant has been deemed inherently good, but just not "ready." The kid has emerged from the audition room smiling through his tears, saying it was a great experience anyway.

Nonsense; you know he really wanted to rant and rave. And you know the judges wanted to advise him to find another line of chosen work, perhaps accounting. All of which would have been, not just more honest, but much more entertaining. I've never been a giant fan of the "Idol" audition rounds - that parade of people who largely know they have no business being onstage - but "High School Musical: Get in the Picture," with its very real crushed spirits, has been even harder to watch.

After all the talk of small towns and big dreams, the finalists that have emerged tend to be the most trained and pre-perfected: the girl who's already performing for crowds in Hawaii, the one whose parents built her a recording studio in the basement. Among the exceptions, and a viewer favorite shoo-in, is 17-year-old Anthony Acito, who compensated for a rough childhood by becoming the life of the party at North Quincy High. He's raw, fits the classic rags-to-riches Disney mold, and will be among the easiest to root for. "High School Musical," after all, celebrates the unpolished talent of Troy and Gabriela over the ickily pre-professional Sharpay.

But ABC wants us to root for everyone, all the time - another problem, since the best reality shows contain a layer of tough love. When Simon Cowell compares a song to a "ghastly cabaret," he's making good TV. But he's also telling the unvarnished truth, and that's part of the thrill of watching.

ABC and Disney, though, are caught between providing entertainment and treating kids like kids. And it turns out that quashing the dream gently isn't just uninteresting; sometimes, it's deceptive, too. Not everyone will be a star, and by 16 or 17, that's not such a terrible lesson to learn. Sometimes, being mean is the nicest thing to do.