Memory Lane: Ricki Lake

The 90's, you know what - it was quite an interesting decade. Great for many biased reasons which I won't go into. But from my rosily tinted recollection the array of programmes were really good and kept a younger me thoroughly entertained.

Like, for instance, the burgeoning growth of talk shows from the US. How they fascinated us often bewildered Brits. You had that man with the incredible hooter, Jerry Springer. Jerry literally blew (not his nose) up over night in England with his super engrossing show of nonsensical anarchy. Then you had smooth Montel, dispensing soulful knowledge on mere mortals. And how could you forget Oprah, with her fluctuating weight, now that was a mammoth show, crikey! Undoubtedly stellar names within the talk show hall of fame.
 

Anyway, enough about that lot, I would prefer to reminisce on another show loved by my sister and I and our friends. Ricki Lake. Remember it? Now this was a show! We would come home from school, have some snacks and watch our programmes and then around 5-6pm Ricki Lake would come on. Yes, a young brunette woman hosting a show with more ethnic people than you could hurl a fried drumstick at (or tortilla wrap). The audience members were literally the embodiment of "ghetto," rowdy African Americans, a dollop of saucy Latinos and a sprinkling of white folk to boot. Usually the type that looked as though they loved mingling within those cultures or were there just for the "experience." 

Whatever the reasons for the amalgamation of this audience it sure made for a super, colourful vibrant show. Ricki, from what I recall was a nice, relaxed affable host, who seemed to love her gig. The assortment of people who would come on to air their grubby laundry, however, were in the main absurd, but nevertheless funny, (even when they were being particularly un PC). You had them all; the typical two weighty African American women with questionable weaves arguing over "they" man. And when the cocksure man came on invariably he would look like a no good "brother," (usually lighter skinned with a slim build).  Of course this man would try to pacify the arguing women with silky lines such as, "you know I got mad love for you both," Well... as this was the Ricki Lake show - anything sounding remotely dubious would be food and drink to the delirious audience who would mock boo and laugh at the ridiculous spectacle that would usually unravel on stage.

Also, the audience always, always loved it when  the door bell rang, and Ricki (acting like she wouldn't have known) would say, "Oh oh, who's that?" Well we didn't know - so we would be in bated breath on the edge of our sofa like attentive mere cats waiting. We should have expected it, really, as it was usually another disgruntled "baby moma" who had come out of woodwork moaning (or hollering) that this same (no good, trifling) sad excuse of a man hadn't paid a nickle towards little "Jaquan." And she be taking him (and the George Foreman grill) to Cleveland to live with her moms! Cue utter pandemonium as the crowd would behave like wild chimps - whilst a smiling Ricky would attempt to calm then down so she could then try and impart her reasonably sounding advice, it was mental, I tell you! And all of this was amidst a backdrop of a brightly coloured studio. (This certainly wasn't a show for those suffering with epilepsy).

I have to say that the most popular guests on the Ricki Lake show were excellent at demonstrating all of the terrible cliched stereotypes that, say, (some) African Americans can be known for: Terrible grammar, bundles of attitude, aggression, narcissism and, erm, basically poor education.* But, oh boy! This made for enthralling TV! 

My sister and I would be laughing at the sheer stupidity that we loved to watch. It was always better to watch Ricki Lake with our friends from Cantsfield street. With our parents shaking their judgemental heads with disapproval at some of the scenarios served up. But secretly I know they also enjoyed a dose of: "Go Ricky! Go Ricky!" Ah... what a show, and what an education into the crazy world of how the other half lived. We sure have many memories of a time when TV was unashamedly foolish but oh so much fun.

 

 

Demola, TCC

* Note, not all African Americans adhere to these negative connotations.