Reality shows push the limits: which is easier—performing a stunt on a reality TV show or insuring the show? Which would you rather do—eat maggots to win $100,000 or insure a reality TV show?

Risk & Insurance, Sept 15, 2004 by Susan Gurevitz

Blame it on "Survivor." At least that's the TV show that most people point to as the originator of today's reality TV programming. And when it hit the airwaves in the summer of 2000, who knew it would not only become an instant, profitable hit for CBS, but also spawn a new category of TV shows--from "Fear Factor" to "The Apprentice" to "Who Wants to Marry A Multimillionaire" and, yes, even "Wife Swap." At the same time, reality TV has opened up a new avenue of entertainment insurance that only a few have chosen to travel because how exactly would you offset the risk of an average person jumping out of an airplane without a parachute?

"There's so much unknown associated with it [reality TV]," says Wendy Diaz, executive underwriter for Fireman's Fund in its Universal City, Calif. office. "You've got the public, so-called normal or average people, doing things they're not used to doing. Hidden cameras are the worst," she says. That's why Fireman's Fund--even though it's one of the largest entertainment underwriters in Hollywood--has taken a pass on the reality shows that are based upon outrageous stunts and scary situations, like people jumping off cliffs or running through a flaming house.

UNDERWRITING JOHN Q. PUBLIC

Unlike standard TV comedies and dramas that employ professional actors, participants in reality shows are simply unpredictable. "When you're dealing with John Q. Public and riot SAG actors, that alone presents uncertainty and risk," points out Brian Kingman, senior vice president of Aon/ Albert G. Ruben, the leading entertainment broker that places about 75 percent of the business. That fickleness is probably the trickiest part of underwriting any of the hundreds of reality shows that have exploded from Hollywood's creative minds, and are airing on the major networks--CBS, NBC, ABC, Fox--and the myriad of cable channels. Plus, the participants are contestants in the show, not employees of the production company or network, so they don't fall trader any of the employment practices policies, such as workers' comp.

In general, entertainment insurance costs account for 3 percent to 5 percent of a production's total costs as a starting point, and then escalate based upon the risk involved and the level of exposure. As Aon/Albert G. Ruben's senior vice president Paul Jones explains, a stunt-based program like "Fear Factor" would probably pay considerably more for its coverage than a dating show, such as "Who Wants to Marry My Dad?" which would fall at the lower end of the scale. Coverage for a program like "Survivor" would probably run somewhere between a dating and a stunt show. Compared with TV dramas and comedies, insurance for reality programs can run as much as 50 percent higher, but the producers are willing, and able, to pay the price.

The majority of these unscripted programs focus on adventures, marriages and dating, dangerous stunts and anything else that your imaginations can muster, or seemingly would appeal to three-year-olds who don't know any better than to put wiggly things in their mouths, and then some. And, therein lies the insurance rub. How do you evaluate all the risks, identify all the possible exposures and put controls in place so that no one gets hurt, either physically or psychologically, and slaps the production companies and networks with astronomical claims?

STRAPPING INTO A "HARNESS OF PAIN"

"Working with the producers and developers [of the shows] upfront, we can vet the concepts and talk about the risks, so we can be aware of them ahead of time," explains Jonathan Anschell, partner with White, O'Connor, Curry & Avanzado, a Los Angeles-based law firm where entertainment and media work accounts for roughly 80 percent of its client business. That's the right way to do it. He notes that just a few years ago he didn't hear from the reality show producers until a problem erupted. Indeed, for a genre that's only a few years old, it's already seen its share of claims and lawsuits, thanks to some reality producers who pushed the envelope so far that it, well, like a reality show plot, fell off a cliff. For example, ever hear of a stunt-based reality show called "Culture Shock?" No? That's because it never aired. During the filming of the pilot, one of the contestants, Jill Mouser, was injured while strapped into the "harness of pain" contraption and is suing the producers, Rocket Science Laboratories (that's really their name) and CBS for a laundry list of damages.

For a stunt-based show, what frequently happens is a producer and the creative team submit to the insurance company a list of feats they want the participants to perform. "We get the application that tells us who's involved, and the storyboard that describes the challenges and stunts, and also the caveats by the stunt people," explains Jonathan Paulsen, assistant vice president of underwriting for national programs at St. Paul Travelers, which is the largest underwriter of entertainment insurance for this market.

In general, all stunts are tested by the show's own people. Stunt professionals must have already performed any dangerous acts planned for the show and installed the necessary safeguards. "We don't want to put people in harm's way," Paulsen says. His barometer? "If my nine-year-old son thinks it's cool and would do it, and I would let him do it, then it's ok," he says. The point, of course, is he has to feel comfortable with the stunt.