Imagine, for the purposes of this article, that you are a prime-time TV host at the helm of a talent show called La Corrida. Your name is Amedeo Umberto Rita Sebastiani, which is a pretty striking name in its own right, but you’ve decided at some point in your long showbiz career to shorten it to a mononym – Amadeus. Your thinking on this front was probably something to do with brand recognition; you reasoned to yourself and anyone that would listen that by shedding the cocoon of Amedeo Umberto Rita Sebastiani and becoming the butterfly of Amadeus, you would become the Björk, the Prince, the Cher, of Italian trash television.
Did it work? Uh, what do you think? Do you even for a second believe Amadeus would’ve hosted years of Eurovision qualifiers, a reality show called The Heart of Mamma, and a smattering of TV beauty pageants if the people of Italy weren’t picking up what Amadeus was putting down? Dumb question. Next.
So in 2024, when the global TV production powerhouse Banijay was looking to revive the talent show La Corrida, there was only one guy they were calling to host the thing.
Sure, the format is roughly identical to every other talent show of its type the world around; a succession of seemingly normal people who have spent years honing the weird and wonderful skills that might get the audience going. Contortionists, magicians, singers, dancing pets; La Corrida would showcase the lot of them. Banijay’s vision, with you – the one and only Amadeus – at its helm, is a modern day freakshow. Its technicolour barrage is broadcast on the airwaves of NOVE, a channel already inclined to the more voyeuristic pleasures of programming (some of its other offerings: Chi diavolo ho sposato? (Who the (Bleep) Did I Marry?); Il mio gatto è indemoniato (My Cat from Hell); Prigionieri di viaggio (Banged Up Abroad); and Sex ER: tutta colpa del sesso (Sex Sent Me to the ER)).
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