The dating game gets stranger and stranger

August 15, 2009|Joanna Weiss, Globe Staff

It is a bizarre conceit of TV dating shows - and a slate of new ones is here - that the participants must act as if this brief televised interlude is their one and only chance for love. As in, “Antonio is my shot at happiness, and it’s my time,’’ as one buxom woman says on the premiere of VH1’s new “My Antonio.’’

Well, good luck to you, then. Antonio is “General Hospital’’ star and erstwhile underwear model Antonio Sabato Jr., and VH1 has assembled 13 women to vie for his heart in the usual TV ways: flirting, canoodling, climbing up tall hills at his command. The contestants on “My Antonio,’’ which premieres tomorrow night at 10, are no strangers to the catfight or the wonders of breast enhancement. “We have flotation devices!’’ one of the ladies coos as Sabato takes off his shirt, dives off a boat, and swims to the Hawaiian shore where they stand waiting for him.

VH1 has built an empire on dating shows that refuse to take themselves seriously; “My Antonio’’ is produced by Michael Hirschorn, the former VH1 executive who brought us “Flavor of Love’’ and its many permutations. The broadcast networks, by contrast, seem more interested in dating shows as sociological pursuits. ABC’s gimmicky “Dating in the Dark,’’ which airs Mondays at 9 p.m., purports to solve the age-old mystery of whether looks matter. Fox’s “More to Love,’’ on Tuesdays at 9 p.m., aims to show the world that large women need romance, too.

Even “My Antonio’’ is a study, of sorts, in the lengths people will go to draw attention to themselves; this isn’t just a parody of dating shows, it’s a parody of love. The women heave their heavy chests. Sabato’s mother appears in a sinister floppy hat to grill contestants on their prospects. And before long, Sabato’s ex-wife has crashed the party, too, announcing she wants him back.

Sabato, meanwhile, can’t stop erupting into cheesy grins. You figure he’s in on the joke (he’s credited as a producer), but the show relies on the notion that he’s too far in love with himself to be anyone’s perfect catch. He’s the guy in the bar who likes to sidle up to groups of women and purr, “Hey, ladies.’’ And if he weren’t so good looking, he’d get Chardonnay - or maybe white Zinfandel - thrown in his face.