Prohibition Grille morphs "overnight" into Prohibition Gastropub. How do they do that? Cornichon's behind-the-scenes look at the upcoming Everett episode of Kitchen Nightmares continues.
Producing an episode of Kitchen Nightmares is a logistical challenge. First, of course, comes the selection of a victim; fortunately, there's no shortage of candidates who volunteer their desultory diners and greasy spoons. The program's executive producers have their own criteria; it's not enough to be a "failing restaurant." The usual drama is generational: a mom & pop with a cantankerous owner and antsy kids.
That was clearly the case at Yanni, in the Phinney Ridge neighborhood, visited by the KN crew on the same December foray to the Seattle area. Rebekah Denn has a masterful description of the restaurant's roller-coaster week in the spotlight in the Seattle Times.
Not everyone comes away happy. The owner of a Nashville restaurant, Chappy's on Church, claims Ramsay "ruined his business" after a makeover last year.
Once the restaurant has agreed to the stringent rules of reality television (perfected by platoons of Hollywood entertainment lawyers), the production team moves in, led by the show's executive producers, Arthur Smith and Kent Weed , and their co-exec producer, Lindsay Kugler. Plus a platoon of production assistants, runners, gaffers, riggers, shooters and sound men. The ubiquitous lights are powered by portable generators; there's no mooching off the city grid. A local catering service is hired to feed everyone.
It's a military operation: between 40 and 50 crew members rig remote-controlled cameras, lights and microphones. Nine channels of closed circuit audio (sound techs normally talk only to sound techs, but producers can talk to the shooters, who roam the set to capture the raised eyebrow or curling lip.
Ahem, it may be naïve to ask, but would a producer ever suggest a line or instigate an action that might be considered rude or provocative? Cornichon put the question to a veteran of similar shows. "Sure! It's television, that's what producers do! But, to be fair, if you're on a reality show, you're not innocent. You want to be on camera. You want to play ball. The contestants aren't innocent, they want to be on television. The producer is their partner to getting the biggest bang for their buck."
The format of Kitchen Nightmares adheres to the rigid formula of a Chekhov drama: the exposition of Act One, in which the characters are introduced and the audience can glimpse the disaster ahead. The conflict erupts in Act Two, with personalities clashing, people yelling furiously and throwing things, until the action reaches a climax. Act Three is the "reveal," the resolution and the redemption. A new decor is unveiled, a new menu trotted out, a consultant introduced, and the cantankerous characters reconciled.
It's a formula, one quickly realizes, a formula which depends on Ramsay's onscreen persona (kinda dickish) and quick wit, followed by the producers' expert editing.
As for the food? How to transform ingredients into dinner? Don't be silly. Nobody watches for that. Kitchen Nightmares is a program about family drama, not cooking. it's all about the shouting.
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