Tomorrow night is the eve of Spring Festival the Lunar New Year when hundreds of millions of Chinese families sit around a table and take in the year-end feast and the heart-warming atmosphere of family reunion.

In the past 23 years, this ritual has been accompanied by a television show that has metamorphosed into the mother of all shows.

The Spring Festival Eve Gala on China Central Television (CCTV) is a variety show that features singing, dancing and comedy skits. It is very long, spanning four or five hours, and has a cast of thousands, all trying very hard to put on their best smile lest someone doubts their joyous spirit.

As the highest rated TV show in China and one of the highest worldwide, it may be the most reviled anywhere, judging from the usual outpouring of post-show panning and sneering.

Last year, only one number was considered an unqualified success: "Thousand-Hand Guanyin" (the Goddess of Mercy dance) by an ensemble of disabled performers. I was not a bit surprised. I had seen the same dance in Hong Kong and overseas by the same troupe and it was always greeted with tears and applause. But CCTV's producers almost cut it to a snippet.

Most years, not a single number would stand out. The songs tend to be derivative, the dances generic, the comedy stale and the laughter from the live audience orchestrated. There is a segment called "Reading telegrams and telephone messages," which is de rigueur but hated by almost everyone: Who in this age of mobile phones and email would send New Year greetings in Morse code? And who can possibly get through to the CCTV hotline?

Even the show's set is more chinoiserie than Chinese, with traditional visual symbols piled one after another into a jumble. The joy of festivities does not seem to flow naturally, but rather, pumped out by a pedestrian craftsman stealing every trick from the Zhang Yimou colour factory.

Everything about the show is not only top of the line, but over the top. In a sense, it's become the ultimate kitsch show, all high camp and no spontaneity. The performers have been rehearsed to death; the songs are pre-recorded, and the jokes lack any bite.

Yet, we cannot spend the last few hours of the lunar year without it. We love to hate it because we expect so much, sometimes unreasonably. Many call it "chicken rib," worthless to keep, but a pity to throw away.

Back in 1983 when the show was first launched, not every family had a television set, and nightlife was non-existent. It was literally watched by everyone who had a TV. The show brought genuine laughter and a communal sense of enjoyment.

Honestly speaking, the shows for the first couple of years were not that good. There were few production values. The pacing was terrible. But no matter. People had only good memories of it because we didn't expect much. In a sense, the show became a victim of its own runaway success.

By the end of the 1980s, the gala was already an institution, as indispensable to the New Year's Eve celebration as firecrackers. As such, it cannot possibly live up to public anticipation. As it grows more lavish in production, the content itself has got into so deep a rut that an eight-horse cart cannot pull it out.

As CCTV is the only national network, all television channels at provincial level simply look up to it and produce their own mini-galas, which are pale imitations.

However, it would be simplistic to criticize CCTV for not trying. It's constantly tinkering with the format, importing token Hong Kong and Taiwan entertainers to spruce things up. But they are constrained exactly because the show is such a juggernaut and any change would bring about unexpected (or expected) complaints. It is supposed to entertain everyone, but as our society diversifies in taste, there is simply not a single number or a single show that can satisfy everyone.

Email: raymondzhou@chinadaily.com.cn

(China Daily 01/27/2006 page4)