So why do we all want to be millionaires?

Obviously, it's because having a million dollars would enable each of us to buy unlimited gin and hookers. I don't even think "buy" would be the right term; were you a millionaire, you could in theory buy a gin distillery and a whorehouse and just spend your days and nights slurping the juices from your profits.

"Is that your final answer?"

Gin and hookers--that's a given. The more pertinent question is why we all love watching Who Wants to Be A Millionaire. For the past week, the show has won in the ratings for every night on which it has appeared. That makes it easily the top-rated show in the country. In the process of generating tons of cash for ABC, it's also become a pop culture phenomenon. Regis Philbin beamed from a recent cover of Entertainment Weekly and his catch phrase on the show--"Is that your final answer?"--is quoted in everyday conversation, the latest in a long line of omnipresent phrases that form the pulse of popular interest. During the two weeks that Millionaire runs, it seems as though everybody watches it, and everybody who watches it loves to swap their favorite moments from each episode around the water cooler the next morning at work.

Why this show? Why a game show? You don't see CBS moving The Price is Right to prime time, and Wheel of Fortune has been the province of strictly senior citizens for years now. What makes Millionaire such brilliant television?

Maybe the secret lies in my favorite moments from the show, when Regis introduces the ten contestants who will compete for the open spot in that chair opposite him. He shouts out their names, the crowd cheers wildly, and ten regular schulbs from Anytown, U.S.A. get their fifteen seconds of fame on national television. You see the enthusiasm beaming from their faces, and you realize the most enduring aspect of the appeal in your average game show: the normal folk who get to win stuff. For a while, it looked like trashy talk shows had co-opted this priceless nugget from the game show world; instead of winning stuff on TV, normal folk wanted to reveal their innermost secrets and beat the crap out of each other on TV. Now a game show has returned to claim its trademark back, and all the regular schlubs can't get enough of it. That's one of the big reasons you can't get through on the 800 number you use to qualify for the show; everyone wants to be on TV.

Of course, everyone also wants to win tons of money, and that's the other big reason behind Millionaire's appeal. You qualify, you fly to New York and you could win a million dollars. But what makes that great television isn't just the joy of seeing folks win stuff, or the sense that any of us could make it to that spot. It's the battle each contestant wages with his or her greatest enemy: the self.

Unlike other game shows, there are no contestants to compete against on Millionaire. It's just you and fifteen questions to answer. Fifteen questions between you and a million dollars. Thinking about it at first, it seems so slight; just fifteen questions. It's more like a high-school pop quiz than a game show challenge. Thankfully, the editors and director of Millionaire do a tremendous job of making those fifteen questions seem like an eternity.

"They're gonna win a million dollars! They're gonna buy tons of gin and hookers!"

Those are the funnest moments to see on the show, watching the contestant do battle with his or herself. It's even more fun when you know the answer and the contestant doesn't. Usually, the contestant doesn't know becuase he or she has been lulled into a false sense of security by the ridiculously easy questions at the beginning of the run. (Oysters make PEARLS?! Wow, what a brain teaser!) Every one gets seduced by these simple questions. You can see the confidence building in their faces and their attitudes. This is when they usually start joking around with Regis like he's their old buddy.

Then the first chink in the armor shows. They hit a slightly tough question, so they reach for one of the three lifelines, usually the audience one. But they're not daunted. They can't be stopped. They're gonna win a million dollars! They're gonna buy tons of gin and hookers--nay, they will own gin and hookers! Waaa-hooo!

That lasts until all those lifelines are gone and they hit a truly difficult question near the end. There's nowhere to turn for help. There are no other contestants to beat, and there's no way to rationalize your loss by blaming any outside force. There's not even a time limit. You can only blame yourself if you fail. It's you and four answers. That's it.

Those tortured moments are the reason why Millionaire is such a phenomenon. We get to watch Regis schmooze for a half-hour, we get all that cheesy overdramatized music (can we hope for a soundtrack CD very soon?), we get to thrill when a contestant does well and wins money. But best of all, we get to watch our fellow Americans fuck up every evening on national television, and because it's them and not us, we love it. If that isn't reality-based TV, I don't know what is.