KEY POINTS:
In a country full of people with serious gambling problems, a show like Deal Or No Deal (TV3, Wednesday, 7.30pm) is sending out strange messages. Last week's debut saw the first player, a young female accountant called Kate, relying on so-called lucky numbers - the date of a best friend's birthday, mum's favourite number - to eliminate dollar amounts hidden in briefcases opened by 26 young ladies with plunging cleavages. No sexism here, then.
The aim was for Kate to get rid of the low amounts in the hope of pinning down, right at the end, the case with $200,000.
At intervals, Kate was challenged by a shadowy banker who offered her a cash sum to woo her out of the game. Backed by her high-fiving father, a self-professed gambler - interesting relationship, that, a gambler who bred an accountant - Kate ploughed on, cheered by a crowd who looked as if they had a close bond with the pokies. She ended up with just over $21,000.
Deal Or No Deal runs on a half-hour format in Australia but the TV3 show stretches out for an hour. It felt like forever. Jeremy Corbett makes a smooth host in the most literal sense - remembering the names attached to those cleavages must be a challenge, but as a gameshow, it's an entirely passive experience for the viewer. And Kate's father was an irritant. "I'm a gambler, I'm a gambler," he kept crying out. Sir, that is nothing to be proud of.
Gameshows must be the new thing, even though they can feel very old. At least The Rich List, which started on TV One on Tuesday, gives viewers something to think about - like why does the promo put Jason Gunn on a sexiest-man list with Brad Pitt and George Clooney (yes, I know it's a joke) and why has TV One abandoned the screening of real documentaries?
You can say no to gameshows, though, and turn to Maori TV's Tuesday night International Documentary series (a reminder: Channel 19). This week, Maori screened a ripper, Dhakiyarr vs the King, tracing the strange case of a tribal leader, Dhakiyarr Wirrpanda, of the Yolngu people of Woodah Island in northeast Arnhem Land. In 1933, Dhakiyarr took exception to a police officer who had chained up Dhakiyarr's wife and some other tribal women, and speared the cop, killing him.
To Dhakiyarr, the land was tribal, the cop was cruel and his actions were justified. He came forward to authorities in Darwin to explain. Of course, he got the opposite of a fair deal.
He was found guilty of murder and condemned to hang in a trial that barely regarded him as a human. But then the High Court - the first time an Australian court treated an Aboriginal person as an equal - overturned the conviction and freed Dhakiyarr. He disappeared the same day and his body has never been found.
The documentary was a masterpiece of storytelling, as Dhakiyarr's descendants spoke eloquently to the camera, and came face to face with the family of the constable who had been killed by him, meeting at the Supreme Court in Darwin in 2003 to "break the spear" that flew between the two families.
The programme was nominated for a grand jury prize at the Sundance Film Festival in 2005, and you could see why. It was TV at its very best.
Meanwhile, over on One, Jason Gunn was shouting on about lists and making a quick buck. Next thing Rick Ellis will be saying The Rich List has Maori content.
