Treasure Hunt was also a
game show in the U.S. between 1973 and 1977, and was revived as
the New Treasure Hunt for a short run in 1981. Produced by
Chuck Barris (of
The Gong Show fame), and based somewhat on a 1950s show by the same name, Treasure Hunt was one of the strangest
game shows to ever travel through our
troposphere.
The actual mechanics of the game were much simpler in operation than can be described: the studio audience would be asked to simultaneously open a box under their seat. 10 of these boxes contained a smaller box wrapped in gold foil. Those lucky 10 were asked to stand, and on the Host's signal, open the gold boxes. 3 of the 10 would find a number inside their box, and those three would be invited down to the stage, where 3 larger boxes sat. The audience member (now contestant) finding the number 1 in her gold box would choose first from the 3 larger boxes; the contestant with number 2 in her gold box chose second; and the contestant with number 3 got the remaining large box. Again, on cue, the three contestants would open the large box, and one of the contestans would find either flowers or a jack-in-the-box, indicating that they were the winner.
That winner would then go on the titular "Treasure Hunt," which consisted entirely of calling out the number of one of the 66 large and lavishly wrapped boxes set on risers downstage. (The set looked like a Macy's Christmas display without the tree.) A scantily-clad model would trundle up the stairs to the chosen box, and carry it back to the host. Then the real fun began. Each box had an envelope on the top that contained a small amount of money-- a few hundred dollars usually. The host would open the envelope and offer the contestant the opportunity to take the money and walk away without seeing the contents of the box. In doing so, the host would usually peek inside the box and taunt the contestant, shaking his head with a grim expression or suddenly shifting gears into meaningless small talk or pulling out a harmless trinket from the box with the implication that more remained, all to build tension and anticipation. After what seemed like an eternity, the host would reveal the contents of the box-- the contestants practically never took the money-- which in many cases was nothing more than a "klunk," a useless prize like an old wig or a butterfly net. Sometimes, the box contained a small prop or card (or a klunk) that hinted at a bigger prize, which would again allow the host to slowly torture the contestant as he revealed what she had really won, usually the typical game show booty of appliances, Turtle Wax, etc. And, on a few occasions, the contestant picked the box containing the Grand Prize, a $50,000 check (give or take-- the amount varied from show to show). The whole cycle was repeated twice per episode.
It wasn't the basic mechanics of the game-- which was little more than an overblown kids' birthday party activity-- that made it such a curious artifact. Rather, it was the abundance of weird design elements that made each episode such a surreal experience.
The show would begin with a shot of a shadowy figure standing amid the prize boxes, accompanied by a somber voice over stating "This bonded security agent has hidden a check for $50,000 inside one of these 66 surprise packages." Emil Arturi, the "security agent"-- dressed in a black suit and derby-- stood impassively onstage during the whole show. During each game cycle, the host would ask Emil to confirm that he had, in fact, hidden the check, to which Emil inevitably answered stoically "Yes, I did." Beyond that, he maintained the fixed stare and solemnity of a guard at Buckingham Palace, despite the Host's always unsuccessful attempts to make him smile or laugh.
The strange design of the show extended to the selection of the contestants themselves. The audience was, without exception, uniformly women (frequently obsese), as the producers allegedly believed that few men would tolerate the drawn-out process of revealing the prize. Based on their reactions onstage, the producers clearly selected only the most excitable and frantic women as contestants. Edwards was routinely manhandled by contestants anytime he revealed a big prize. More interestingly, there was always a surprisingly large percentage of black women in the audience. It's not clear whether they were selected based on stereotyped belief that they would be even more hysterical and emotional than white contestants, or whether the producers were simply being progressive in recruiting black contestants, but the cynical answer is probably the correct one.
The vast bulk of the show consisted of the drawn-out and bizzare ways the Host slowly revealed the final prize. Often, the Host and other cast members would devolve into some kind of scripted skit before the prize was ultimately revealed. For example, in one show, the Host revealed that the contestant had won "a two-year old girl" as a production assistant walked a small child onto ths stage towards the bewildered contestant, only to have another show staffer run out on stage to raise a (scripted) objection to using kids as prizes. Or, the Host would simply flat-out taunt the contestant, telling her she had won "TWENTY FIVE THOUSAND . . . coffee beans! {pulling a bag from the box and handing it to the disappointed contestant} . . . that you can take for a spin in YOUR BRAND NEW . . . coffee grinder!" etc. (The contestant subjected to this particular extended torture fainted onstage after finally learning that she had won a car, and was later interviewed by Mike Wallace of 60 Minutes for a piece about the "exploitative nature of game shows." She said that it was the best experience of her life.)
The entire process was simultaneously hilarious and exasperating, and the Host, game show veteran (and frequent alt.tv.game-shows denizen) Geoff Edwards, had a knack for keeping contestants on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Although most of the sketches were scripted, it was usually up to Edwards to ad-lib his way to the sketch opening, and since most boxes' contents were keyed to a separate sketch or other pre-written piece, Edwards had to memorize close to 60 different cues for each taping.
Treasure Hunt was such a departure from the usual game show conceit that some people consider it to be a sort of "anti-game show," much like Barris' other legacy, The Gong Show or Queen For a Day. In Treasure Hunt, the contestants were not required to demonstrate any skill whatsoever and the "game" was merely the drawn-out revelation of the prize itself. Arturi, the stoic "bonded security agent," was clearly a tweak of serious game shows that played up their stern security measures, like "prize vaults" or the ubiquitous "soundproof booth." The show wasn't trying to lure viewers who would imagine themselves in the contestants' places like the traditional game show. If anything, it wanted viewers to be glad they weren't the poor contestant being strung along interminably. Although some of the skits often made Edwards or another cast member the butt of the joke, the underlying attraction of Treasure Hunt was the cruelty of Edwards repeatedly raising and dashing the contestants' expecations.
It was clearly way ahead of its time in the 1970s, and would probably fit quite nicely alongside curent television game shows like The Weakest Link. I'm surprised no one has thought to bring it back.