Each episode - it's on Wednesday and Thursday this week and next - follows a multimillionaire for a week while he or she goes "undercover in poverty," to mingle with the great unwashed. The multimillionaires mix anonymously with the people they'll help, and they learn firsthand about how brave and resourceful the poor can be. They encounter cockroaches, supermarkets, and - oh no! - wrinkled clothing.
PBS's "Inheritance" revisits the Holocaust. Page 29
Finally, the big reveal: The wealthy folks dress up, come out of the money closet, apologize for lying to the poor, and donate thousands of dollars before chugging back to their mansions for post-undercover R&R. In last week's premiere, Greg, a Southern California lawyer and real estate broker, gave money to three in need, including a little girl with cancer and no insurance. Then he and his son, Cole, returned home - Greg to benefiting from mortgage foreclosures ("When the economy does poorly, we do very, very well," he told us) and Cole back to his career as an aspiring model, with a new sample reel in his pocket.
Also last week, a couple named Todd and Gwen met victims of Hurricane Katrina, then went back to their Baton Rouge lush life after having repeatedly plugged their food-chain business on national TV. Todd and Gwen exceeded their required $100,000 donation by $200,000 - not a bad rate for an hourlong ad.
I know, the idea of inspiring charity isn't bad. But that doesn't automatically make "Secret Millionaire" good. Making a show of charity pushes it into that reality-TV realm of artificiality - the forced emotions, the swelling strings, the ever-present cameras. The needy people on "Secret Millionaire" are told that the cameras are filming a documentary about poverty, but seriously - cameras are there and everyone is performing. At this point in the evolution of reality TV, most citizens of the universe know that "a documentary about poverty" just might win them money, or fame, or both.
And the millionaires we've seen so far have perfect white teeth and fine haircuts, and, no matter how unshaven they are, they are not believably underprivileged. Their undercover act is laughably unconvincing. So is their rich act, as they have the charity "aha!" moments that the producers ask for and make exclamations such as, "I have faith in humanity again." Giving should be natural; "Secret Millionaire" is contrived.
Matthew Gilbert can be reached at gilbert@globe.com.
