Let’s talk about something that’s been quietly simmering in the background of Australian television culture: the Top 70 list from TV Week. It’s not just a ranking—it’s a mirror held up to our collective taste, and what I find fascinating is how deeply it reflects the tension between nostalgia and modernity. When I first saw that Big Brother was ranked above All the Rivers Run, a show that feels like a relic of the 1980s, I couldn’t help but chuckle. But then I realized this isn’t just about taste; it’s about power. Reality TV has become the unspoken king of the airwaves, and the fact that it’s dominating these lists feels less like a celebration of quality and more like a surrender to algorithmic inevitability.
Consider this: MasterChef Australia and Doctor Doctor are both on the list, and yet they’re sandwiched between Travel Guides and Rosehaven. What does that say about our priorities? Are we really valuing cooking competitions and medical dramas over travel shows and period dramas? Or is this just a reflection of how television has become a fragmented, niche-driven beast? I think the latter is true. These rankings feel less like a definitive list and more like a snapshot of what’s trending at a particular moment. And let’s be honest—MasterChef is a brand that’s been carefully curated for mass appeal, not unlike a reality show, which makes its presence on this list almost ironic.
Then there’s the elephant in the room: reality TV. The user comments on the source article are telling. One person calls the list an ‘April Fool’s joke,’ which says a lot about how jaded we’ve become. Another laments that reality shows are siphoning funds away from scripted content. And honestly? I think they’re right to be worried. When Big Brother is ranked in the top 50, it’s not just about entertainment—it’s about economics. Networks are chasing ratings, and reality TV delivers them with a kind of ruthless efficiency that scripted shows can’t match. But at what cost? The more we prioritize shows that require no scripts, no actors, no budgets, the more we risk eroding the very art form that made television a cultural force in the first place.
What’s even more intriguing is how this list interacts with the Logie Awards. The Top 20 will be announced during the ceremony, but the fact that these shows are being highlighted now feels like a strategic move. It’s a way to keep the conversation alive, to remind us that television isn’t just about the present—it’s about nostalgia, legacy, and the illusion of timelessness. But here’s the thing: All the Rivers Run was a groundbreaking drama in its time, and yet it’s languishing in the bottom 50. Is that because it’s too slow for modern audiences, or is it because we’ve lost the patience to engage with complex storytelling? I’m leaning toward the latter. Our attention spans have been whittled down by TikTok and Instagram, and shows that require us to sit through two-hour episodes without a break feel like a relic of a bygone era.
If you take a step back, this entire exercise feels like a Rorschach test. What these rankings reveal isn’t just about which shows we like, but about who we are as an audience. Are we the type of people who crave the comfort of familiar formats, even if they’re formulaic? Or are we the ones who still believe in the magic of a well-written script, even if it’s buried under layers of reality-based content? I think we’re both. And that’s the real tragedy here: we’re caught between two worlds, neither of which feels entirely satisfying. The future of Australian television isn’t just about what gets ranked—it’s about what we’re willing to let go of in the name of progress.
