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So, Gladiators, the hit of the early 1990s. An striking example of how strong physical fitness can be a benefit to you, or an excuse to watch grown men and women running around in tight lycra shorts?Initially this was good - it was new and it was interesting and, well, it looked good. An excuse for cheap kicks though, watching beautiful women in lycra which might explain the ratings.The show was slow though - it was really struggling to fill its 60min time slot in some places. There was far too much talking and not enough action - I mean really, six games in 52 minutes of programme, I ask you? Fun House (the UK version) was able to cram five events (three sixty second games, a go-kart race and a two minute fun-house dash) into the space of just 25mins.And that show lasted longer than Gladiators!Thre's only so much one can take of John Anderson going "Contender, rrrrrrrready?! Gladiators, rrrrready?! Threeeee, twoooooo, oneeee, *blow whistle*. Likewise, there's only so much one can take of The Wolfman running around breaking all the rules, getting told off and making Ulrika Jonson quake in her boots. And when they started getting other officials to start talking down the microphone to announce stuff such as "You completed the danger zone in 25.9 seconds which is under 30 seconds" it became obvious where the show was going to go in terms of target audience (and it was confirmed when they made Junior Gladiators as well).The games got dafter and more unimaginative as the years went by and the powers that be decided to almost totally drop all the earlier games. There was only so many ways to see contestant and gladiator compete against each other and stay transmittable for Saturday Night television. Of course, they'd used them all up by about the third series so games after that were rehashed versions of what had gone before. So then of course there was no variety. Damned if they do, damned if they don't.Would have been better I reckon if there wasn't so much talking! I personally wasn't really that interested in hearing what Diane from Somerset thought about bashing Phoenix's brains out with the pugal stick, nor was there any real point in getting John Anderson to ham the audience up with the previously quoted phrase before every event, a clear sign that the warm-up man wasn't doing his job properly. Gladiators had just about lost its way altogether by the time it finished its run and we'd lost all interest by then. More variety needed, take note for whoever decides to revive this in the future.
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