The emotional ‘journey’ to Strictly’s glitterball begins

I felt a pang. Time was when I, too, would have been watching Strictly Come Dancing, the staple of Saturday night entertainment that brings people together around the flickering light of the glitterball. But not any more. I have fallen out of love with it. I dip in and out, but for me it is no longer the must-watch that did so much to popularise dance and was a firm appointment each weekend for all the family as my sons grew up.

My disaffection is not unique, but it barely troubles the BBC’s viewing figures. Last year’s final, which saw comedian Chris McCausland, who is blind, lift the trophy with his professional dancing partner Dianne Buswell, was watched by 8.6 million people at its peak. It was slightly down on the previous year’s 8.8 million but not enough to worry rating-conscious bosses.

What is extraordinary is that the series sails serenely on, untroubled – apparently – by the scandals. In its 22 seasons, with the 23rd starting on Saturday night, it has survived accusations of abuse against the professionals’ training regimes, inappropriate comments by contestants and multiple love affairs, some successful and some failed.

Still, 15 new celebrities stepped on to the dance floor, ready to improve their health, their coordination and – hopefully – their public profile. Most controversial is Apprentice contestant Thomas Skinner, famous for his friendship with US vice-president JD Vance. But there are also actors (Alex Kingston, Stefan Dennis, Balvinder Sopal, Lewis Cope), reality TV stars (Dani Dyer, Vicky Pattison), sports personalities (Chris Robshaw, Karen Carney, Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink), TV presenters (Ross King) and YouTuber George Clarke. Then there’s Ellie Goldstein, a model and actor with Down’s syndrome, Drag Race star Chris Dennis (aka La Voix), and Nitro from Gladiators (aka Harry Aikines-Aryeetey).

One of them will go on a fascinating, emotional “journey” to claim the top prize, overcoming difficulty and proving their talent in the process. And there’s the rub. When Strictly Come Dancing began in the dark ages of 2004, it was a dancing show featuring celebrities. The judges – the first panel was led by the late Len Goodman, with Arlene Phillips, Craig Revel Horwood and Bruno Tonioli – judged the contestants on how they danced and how they learned, not on the strength of their back story.

The show held that balance beautifully for a long time. It is still successful at coaxing performances out of people who thought they could never dance; McCausland’s routines were remarkable because Buswell managed to find a way of teaching him that meant he could achieve an extraordinary amount. Layer the emotion of his triumph in doing something he feared impossible over that physical skill and he was a worthy winner.

There is a lot still to like in the series. But the essential innocence at the heart of it – the pleasure of watching people learning to do a difficult thing very well – seems to have lessened. Perhaps it is a victim of its own success. The format is seen in 60 other countries. The media coverage generated by each cohort of celebrities generates a hysteria that engulfs the show. Everything is bigger, brighter, more outrageous. The special weeks – Film Week, Halloween, Blackpool – are overblown and constantly trailed.

The judges – now led by Shirley Ballas, with Motsi Mabuse, Anton du Beke and Revel Horwood – start their marking high and go higher. Revel Horwood, who still talks a lot of sense, is cast in the role of pantomime villain and booed if he makes a negative comment. The word "journey" does an enormous amount of heavy lifting.

It's still entertaining, but dance has become the sideshow, not the purpose. Mind you, having seen Peg’s snack basket, I might just give it a go next weekend.

Photograph by Guy Levy/BBC