Channel Nine certainly hit the jackpot with Australian Ninja Warrior. The obstacle-course athletics competition that's strong on spectacle, suspense and family appeal attracted more than two weeks of phenomenal ratings. As an added bonus, it premiered at a time when it could act as a promotional platform for a bunch of shows that the network is poised to launch: a new bout of The Block, more episodes of True Story with Hamish and Andy, Doctor Doctor and Karl Stefanovic's latest shot at prime time, This Time Next Year.
To further sweeten the success, Ninja's arrival triggered an attack of heartburn for Ten's MasterChef as it headed into its finals and prompted Seven to make some hasty changes in order to avoid putting some of some of its new babies up against the ratings powerhouse. So, high fives all round at Nine.
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Australian Ninja Warrior: Fred's run
No one finished the course, but green and gold ninja Fred got the best result. Vision courtesy Channel Nine
Ninja Warrior loudly and proudly displayed many of the attributes that free-to-air TV desperately craves. It offered broad audience appeal and invited social media engagement, demanding to be viewed live because it was a contest: waiting until the next day to find out who made it up the Warped Wall wasn't an option. Unlike other, comparable breakout ratings hits – say, My Kitchen Rules – it didn't drag on for what seemed like an eternity, creating the sour impression that the network was cynically exploiting a valuable commodity until the last soggy noodle was served. Ninja was short, sharp and sensational: a few high-impact weeks and it was over, before the novelty began to fade and the experience started to feel repetitive.
Based on a 20-year-old Japanese format that's subsequently been adapted in 18 countries, Ninja inspired two justifiable, yet opposing, views prior to its debut. The first, the negative or incredulous option, predicted that it would be a noisy and expensive misfire. It was destined to join the motley list of short-lived and largely unlamented shows in the oddball novelty-variety genre, productions that often require elements of physical competition and in which people push themselves, individually or in teams, to sometimes silly extremes. That decidedly mixed bag includes It's a Knockout, Wipeout, Fear Factor, Gladiators, You're Back in the Room, Celebrity Splash! and my own personal favourite, SlideShow (although its brief run suggests that I was part of a miniscule minority that appreciated its wacky appeal).
But then there's the other, more positive and optimistic point of view, and the one that, happily for Nine, proved accurate. It argued that TV, for all the riches of the "Peak TV" era, is lacking in spectacle. And that, as a consequence of the domination of reality-TV contests on prime-time commercial FTA, "spectacle" now equates to people nervously frying fish, belting out power ballads or frantically painting walls.
Yet something that network broadcasters can do, with their relatively substantial resources compared to those of niche channels, is stage major events. And Ninja, based on an island in the middle of Sydney Harbour and stacked with imposing challenges such as the Bridge of Blades, the Spinning Log and the Chimney Climb, delivers an impressive sense of scale. The course also gets longer and harder as the contest continues, so a level of viewer boredom with the repetition is anticipated and addressed.
Ninja had other notable assets. It was genuinely suspenseful, with one watching the often-extraordinary skill, strength, athleticism and sheer grit of the contestants, and wondering who might make it through without tumbling into the water waiting below.
As might be expected in a period that's made an art form of casting for reality-TV, the contestants selected from the thousands of applicants were a cleverly curated bunch boasting an array of inspirational back-stories. There were Olympians, tradies and firemen, parkour-expert twins, people who have battled to overcome potentially crippling injuries, and mums and dads who just wanted to make their kids proud and show them what they can accomplish if they put their minds to it.
![Lee Cossey in the Australian Ninja Warrior grand finale.](http://web.archive.org./web/20170727121340im_/https://www.fairfaxstatic.com.au/content/dam/images/g/x/j/4/h/l/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.gxhdkk.png/1501045734729.jpg)
There was also an appreciable nod to gender equality. Male and female contestants faced the same course and, although few women made it through, at least there was no embarrassing tokenistic concession made to them.
A similar mindset was evident in regard to the presenter trio: Rebecca Maddern co-hosting with Ben Fordham, and Freddie Flintoff acting as boundary rider. Maddern was a key contributor, front and centre, her role not reduced, as it once might have been, to the equivalent of barrel girl or scoreboard announcer.
![One of Australian Ninja Warrior's favourites, Ashlin Herbert.](http://web.archive.org./web/20170727121340im_/https://www.fairfaxstatic.com.au/content/dam/images/g/x/j/4/h/f/image.related.articleLeadNarrow.300x0.gxhdkk.png/1501045734729.jpg)
So there's a range of reasons why Ninja became the kind of hit that broadcasters dream about. Adrian Swift, Nine's head of content production and development, has said that he wants to develop shows that "capture the public imagination".
"We're going for mass audiences . . . when we commission a show, how do we get a million people to turn up in one place at one time?"
![Ben Cossey came tumbling down in grand final of Australian Ninja Warrior.](http://web.archive.org./web/20170727121340im_/https://www.fairfaxstatic.com.au/content/dam/images/g/x/j/4/h/k/image.related.articleLeadNarrow.300x0.gxhdkk.png/1501045734729.jpg)
Mission accomplished.
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