My one big problem with SAS Australia

I tried. Really, I did, but there’s one big thing missing from Australia’s most talked-about new reality show that has me reaching for the remote.

I tried. Really, I did.

Viewers have been gripped by Seven’s brutal new reality series SAS Australia this week – but I couldn’t make it through either of the first two episodes.

The show collects 17 Australian “celebrities” (I use the term loosely; one is a convicted drug smuggler and another a pregnancy faking ex-WAG with an ill-advised penchant for white-lady-braids) to run through a brutal SAS-style training program under the tutelage of the gruff Ant Middleton and his team of fellow ex-Special Forces soldiers.

It is unrelentingly grim: under grey skies and with mud underfoot, contestants are ordered to undergo intense physical challenges and, at times, to turn on each other. It’s already ruined one high-profile friendship among participants, with Roxy Jacenko quitting the competition within hours after she refused to fight back during a brutal punch-up with Candice Warner.

Roxy Jacenko quit after six hours, the first relatable thing she’s ever done. Picture: NIGEL WRIGHT.

Throughout, they’re constantly berated by the ex-soldiers bossing them around – the slightest infraction leads to another punishment, another round of vein-popping screaming from Middleton and co, who lay it on so thick you’d think they’re auditioning for a community theatre production of Full Metal Jacket.

That’s all fine, if there were some light to go with all this shade. But so far in SAS Australia, it feels like so many of the elements that make reality TV competitions compelling are missing. There are no moments of triumph, no pauses for celebration.

In Tuesday’s episode contestants were tasked with climbing up a giant rock face, then abseiling back down. It pushed several to their limits, but there was no moment of joy when they conquered the task – just Middleton and his team barking at them to hurry the f**k up and get on with it.

Schapelle Corby’s exit from the show only two episodes in was a big loss – she’s easily the show’s most talked-about contestant – but her decision to quit wasn’t the big emotional TV moment it could’ve been. To the SAS team she was just another quitter, and so left quickly and quietly with her tail between her legs.

Has anyone ever told you guys you’d look so much prettier if you smiled?

Corby’s decision to go on the show is puzzling. Whatever you think of her, she’s been through a hell of a lot – why pick TV’s most trauma-packed show for her reality debut? Surely Dancing with the Stars or, say, Celebrity Resin Clock Makers would’ve made for a more pleasant experience?

Likewise, you have to question the decision to put a hood over Corby’s head and lead her into a small, dark room for a tough interrogation. The SAS leaders brag frequently about wanting to “break down” these “pampered celebs” – does a woman who endured nine years in Kerobokan Prison really need any more breaking?

I miss the camaraderie among contestants present in other reality shows. We want to watch them form bonds, jostle for attention, playfully tease each other. On SAS Australia, there’s barely any of that – the contestants are so afraid to put a foot out of line I’m not sure half of them have even been introduced to each other yet.

What do we get in place of those friendships? The Honey Badger’s brutal physical stoush with AFLW Sabrina Fredrick, a moment that singer and anti-violence campaigner Guy Sebastian publicly declared yesterday made him feel “sick” to watch.

Honey Badger don’t give a s**t. Picture: NIGEL WRIGHT.

It’s all just so relentlessly serious. I want to reach through the screen and remind them all it’s just a reality TV show. It’s meant to be entertaining. Fun, even!

I can admit that some of this stems from a deep personal aversion to negative reinforcement: I need to be lavished with constant praise in order to carry out even the most basic physical activity. If I’d been doing my best halfway up that rock face and the SAS guys started screaming at me to hurry up? I would’ve stopped right there and waited it out until they eventually organised to have me rescued: “I can wait. I’m a contestant on SAS Australia, I clearly don’t have anything else going on.”

I know I’m alone here: viewers are eating this show up.

Before the two shows started, I would’ve put my bets on Ten’s Junior MasterChef beating SAS Australia in the ratings. After the year we’ve all had, I thought, surely viewers want a little primetime positivity.

While they air at the same timeslot, the two shows couldn’t be more different: Over on MasterChef, adorable young contestants like Ben with his authentic Albury bao buns get heaped with praise and encouragement by the judges. On SAS Australia, actor Firass Dirani is pushed backwards out of a helicopter by his SAS leader – who spits “WANKER” down at him as he hits the freezing water.

But SAS beat out both MasterChef and The Block in its first two episodes, hovering around the 800k viewer mark while Junior MasterChef trailed well over 300,000 viewers behind.

Maybe I should stick it out. Maybe there’ll be time for a little positivity, a bit of hard-earned triumph and some genuinely human moments, as the season wears on.

Until then, I’m forced to write a sentence so chilling, so depraved, it confirms 2020 truly is the darkest timeline: I stand with Roxy Jacenko.

SAS Australia airs 7:30pm Mondays and Tuesdays on Seven. Or do what I do and switch over to Emily in Paris on Netflix at around 8:05. She has so many hats!!!