When reality TV plays nice – The Great British Bake-Off

The very last Thursday Next novel has arrived, and will in all likelihood be the juicy subject of my next blog post. Meanwhile, erm...

Yes, there is such a thing as less demanding TV than cosy crime, and the last couple of weeks I've been hooked on it. It's The Great British Bake-Off. Not even the latest series with Nigella, mind you, but seasons from way back which are airing on Swedish TV4 (approximately the equivalent to Britain's ITV) and BBC Nordic. My addiction reminds me of a Masterchef phase (mostly the Professionals version) I went through a couple of years back. Work has been intermittently energy-draining, and when you're stressed, even engaging in the airiest of fictional dramas can be a bit much. Now, for Bake-Off, you need no energy at all.

What's the appeal, though, for someone like me who can't bake for toffee (my cooking isn't great either)? Well, for one thing, I like eating, and Bake-Off heavily features tasty-looking desserts of different kinds. In this respect, it draws you in more than Masterchef, where the dishes could get a bit too fancy sometimes. Moreover, even the bakes that are too full of ingredients I don't much care for (why is everyone so fond of pistachios?) look an absolute treat.

The bakes are the big draw – all those astonishing "show-stoppers" – but admittedly not the only one. I'm fascinated by the social challenges the format puts its contestants through as well. Unlike reality shows like Big Brother, which (reputedly) are focused on making contestants behave badly for the sake of "good TV", the goal of Bake-Off (and to some extent Masterchef) is to create a cosy atmosphere where the contestants are as nice as possible. Mostly, they rise to the challenge, and their social skills impress me almost as much as their baking.

The underlying formula for Bake-Off is similar to the one I remember from various (probably ancient) Masterchef episodes. We have The Stern Judge, preferably male and good-looking in a silver-fox kind of way (in Bake-Off, Paul Hollywood). Then there is The Comparatively Nice Judge, preferably female, not always as easy to please as one might think (Mary Berry, then Prue Leith in the Bake-Off episodes I've seen). I can't remember the names of the judges in Masterchef Professionals, but I do remember a deceptively nice-looking male chef who was an absolute savage. Believe it or not, Hollywood is a pussycat in comparison. 

Along with the judges, we have the Comic Relief in the form of two presenters with no particular knowledge of baking/cooking. Their job is to lark about with the contestants and put them at their ease, with varying degrees of success. These presenters are probably household names in Britain, but I wouldn't know them from Adam. I quite like the vibe of the latest pair I've seen take on the role in Bake-Off, jolly Alison and Goth Noel who's actually a softie. That said, I'm not sure I'd find their antics de-stressing myself.

Through all these trials, the bakers have to keep their temper and show good sportsmanship. The ideal Bake-Off contestant is sweetly happy in victory – though not overdoing the wide-eyed "what, little old me?" humility – and gracious and stoic in defeat. Masterchef often featured the contestants who had to leave the show looking crushed and talking about how "gutted" they were. Bake-Off, wisely, tries to play this aspect down. The ousted bakers smile bravely, admit that they had a bad week and that it was a fair cop, and turn up in the final episode to cheer on the remaining trio. "No tears on Bake-Off", one contestant reminded herself when she got a bit emotional. Though it would be inhuman to follow this rule completely, she had the right idea.

Moreover, as viewers we want the bakers to get on, and they seem to do their very best in that regard, in spite of a process that appears to favour a selection of contestants as eclectic as possible (considering they all have to be great at baking as well). Every sign of camaraderie or generosity towards the other bakers is counted by this viewer as a point in a contestant's favour, and surely not just by me. 

It's a relief to see that the hopeful bakers seem to know what is required of them by way of friendly behaviour. When you're on telly in a programme designed to be feel-good viewing, the cliché about participating being more important than winning is actually true. Forget fierce competitive spirit (what Swedes call vinnarskalle, "winner's noggin"). Even if you were to win the whole competition, no-one will remember you fondly if you're arrogant or a grouch.

It could be argued that programmes like Bake-Off can take as much of a psychological toll on those involved in it as shows like Big Brother, where at least the contestants don't have to act hypocritically decently if they're not up to it. For my part, I prefer to see cosy competitions like Bake-Off as a triumph for niceness – which may be the naïve, consensus-loving Swedish part of me talking. Fika, anyone?

Why is Ludwig so enjoyable?

I always underestimate how much travel takes out of you, as I tend to forget how much time and energy is needed for preparations beforehand and settling back into old routines afterwards. Of course, the travelling itself is worth it, but I can't claim that I return from it well-rested.

Which is my excuse for being late with my blogging. Even now, I need to find a suitably lightweight blog subject. Like cosy crime. Fortunately, Swedish Television has decided to air a generous number of comforting British crime shows as an autumn pick-me-up for us dog-tired Swedes. Somewhat unexpectedly, the second series of Ludwig is the one I've had the most time for this far.

Now, don't get me wrong, I really liked the first series of Ludwig as well. Only, one would have thought that I'd care even more for a show like Bookish, where the viewer actually has a sporting chance of solving the mystery, or Marble Hall Murders, where I've read the book (a great read for a long train ride). I had a good time with both these shows. I was a bit surprised by the description of Knecht Ruprecht as an ultra-scary Krampus-like figure in Bookish – surely not? – and I have notes concerning the unnecessary changes to the plot of Marble Hall Murders (Why Corfu? Why "The Tiny People"? Why isn't Julia stout?), never mind that it's the author himself who's made them. But these are merely quibbles, when there's slick storytelling and the cream of British actordom to enjoy in both series.

Ludwig, however, brought a satisfaction all of its own, which is hard to explain seeing as there's a minimal chance for the audience to work out each episode's murder mystery. Instead, you sit back and watch puzzle master John Taylor aka Ludwig be brilliant as he solves murders, now as himself rather than masquerading as his absentee twin brother James. The mysteries have a classic puzzle element, and though it doesn't always play as decisive a role in the solving of the crime as we're led to believe, there is no way we as viewers can crack the case with the information we are given.

This makes Ludwig a more unusual crime series than it at first appears. It doesn't really invite us to do any detecting of our own, which ought to damage the show but strangely doesn't. There's something relaxing about simply watching a character being clever rather than trying to be clever yourself – it's a bit like those Sherlockian deductions which are there simply to make you marvel (and not think too hard about ways in which they cheat). I've always scoffed at the assumption that whodunnits are satisfying because everything is tied up neatly, as opposed to the often messy reality of crime fighting. But in Ludwig's case it might actually be true. I love watching John tie a case up in a pretty bow and be successful at work in spite of his social ineptness.

That doesn't mean the show is perfect. Secondary characters like the new Detective Constables are often thinly sketched, the overarching mystery of James's disappearance grows ever more outlandish (a murdering local politician? Really?), and the second series takes no time to remind us of what actually happened in series one which aired about a year ago. A "previously on" would have been appreciated (maybe there was one which we Swedish viewers missed?). 

Nevertheless, the hook of the overarching plot still holds: we want James to be found and his disappearance to be explained, but at the same time we don't want John to have to give up his place as part of a loving family. David Mitchell is funnier than in the first series, but he also sells the poignancy of his reply when James's wife Lucy asks him why he doesn't believe James simply ran away because he was tired of his life: "Because it's so nice."            

I'm up for series three, though I suspect they can't spin out the James mystery for more than three series. And I wonder if they can possibly find a non-preposterous conclusion to the "murderous local bigwig" plot.