Reality and rumour spark unscripted drama as TV cameras turn on village

Until a few weeks ago, the hottest topic of debate among the residents of Grassington was whether they would make it into the record books.

To mark the 30th anniversary of the village's two-week long arts and music festival, it was decided they would attempt to stitch together the longest stretch of bunting ever. It was approached with military precision. There was even a centre of operations known as Bunting HQ.

However, by the time the flags were strung earlier this week, talk had already turned to a much more contentious issue – a new TV show called The Village. The brief sounds harmless enough. Twelve families,

desperate to escape the rat race, compete to win a house in a rural idyll and transform their lives. Commissioned by Channel 4, production company Studio Lambert has been researching possible sites across Britain for months and recently Grassington emerged as the front runner.

It was, they said, a real coup for Wharfedale and confirmation for the villagers that they live in one of the prettiest parts of the country. However, in some quarters the flattery has fallen flat.

Ever since the announcement, rumours have been circulating in

Grassington about the intentions of the production crew and the effect national attention will have on the close-knit community.

There's been talk that the dozen contestants will include a recently-released prisoner from Liverpool and an Asbo family currently living Birmingham. The latest rumour was the line-up would include a paedophile.

Tempers have begun to fray and, after a recent heated session of the parish council, representatives from Studio Lambert agreed to hold a public meeting. They kept their word and this week, the hundreds who filed into Grassington's Town Hall were told by Michael Rooze, chairman of the parish council, not to feel shy about asking questions. This was, he said, their chance to be heard.

The words of encouragement were unnecessary. Many of Grassington's 1,390 population had already taken their seats, and holding back wasn't on anyone's agenda.

One woman hinted at concerns a handful of villagers may profit from the programme, while the rest will probably end up looking like fools. Another questioned the ethics of the auditioning process. All wanted to hear what Studio Lambert have to say for themselves.

"We have no intention of disrupting the law and order of Grassington," said Jamie Isaacs, the company's executive producer and creative director. His frustration at what he described as Chinese whispers was obvious. "Anyone who has been on television before, or who has a criminal record will not be considered. Please be assured, we work under such a high level of scrutiny and we don't want to cheapen the village. These are rumours completely without foundation.

"We are looking for people for whom moving here would transform their lives, but who also have something to contribute to village life and who can support themselves if they win. This is not about someone coming here to take someone else's job.

"We are not coming here to make specific individuals wealthy and no-one is being paid to take part. Personally, I think it's better that we buy a house and get someone to live in it, than it ends up as a second home."

Each week the villagers will be balloted as to who stays and who goes. Studio Lambert prefer the term "documentary" to "reality TV", but that may be splitting hairs. In the hope perhaps of convincing the gathered throng he is not some devil incarnate, Isaacs alludes to his previous programmes, which have included The Choir and Garrow's Law. He neglects to mention he was also behind the arguably more combative Brat Camp and that the company produced Wife Swap. He describes The Village as an "interesting adventure", but as he talked of giving away a house in a "wonderful aspirational community" the mumblings of discontent turned into something much more audible.

One retired teacher complained that they have been kept in the dark about the selection process. Another resident is worried that with the programme scheduled to be screened after the watershed, it will give the production team a licence to be salacious. Amid the tea shops and quaint cobbled streets, vulgarity is not something that sits well in Grassington.

"We intend to have a much lower profile than that small regional film crew," says Isaacs, referring to an outside broadcast truck he had seen earlier that day filming the record-breaking bunting. "We want to be part of the community. People have every right not to be involved in what we are doing. Yes, there will be times when we are filming in public areas, but when we are we will make our presence known. There will be no reality TV-style fixed cameras, no live feeds to websites.

"I'm sorry if people don't feel they have been informed about what we are doing, but we have tried to be completely transparent."

He may yet regret publicly announcing that if anyone has a problem with the show they can call him direct. Many want to know why the original plan to film the series in the Scottish village of Aberdour were pulled. Isaacs insists it was because they failed to find a suitable house, and those hoping that Grassington may be similarly saved from the spotlight are likely to be disappointed. The Village is almost a done deal. An offer has been placed on a house which will be given to the eventual winner, the sourcing of contestants is underway and filming, set to last eight weeks, is due to begin at the end of August.

"I'm not the only one who thought this whole project was still up for discussion," says one woman, declining the offer of a microphone and insisting that even from the back of the hall she will have no problem making herself heard.

"It seems from what you're saying tonight that's not the case. We have very serious concerns about the damage this programme may do to our community."

The nerves are understandable. Given the freak show nature of much reality TV, including Channel 4's own Big Brother, the bubbling sense of unease is to be expected.

"We have great pride in our work," says Isaacs. "We are not here to

drop a bomb on your community and then walk away.

"I would like everyone to come on board, but I know that probably won't happen. In reality we need between eight and 10 residents who are keen to work with us as mentors to those families who take part.

"I want people to watch it and think, 'I would love to live in Grassington'. I want to show it as it is, an aspirational place, with a high standard of living and interesting characters who are prepared to speak their mind."

The irony is not lost on Isaacs as another group of residents express their displeasure. But just as he could have been forgiven for waving the white flag, the tide unexpectedly turns.

From the back of the hall, one of the residents behind a petition to stop the show speaks. Rosie works at the Devonshire Hotel on the market square and in recent days she's had a change of heart.

"People know I was against the idea at the start, but I've spoken to the production team and I have changed my mind. We now all need to get behind this programme, we need to stick together and let everyone else know that this is the best bloody village in England."

Isaacs resists running the length of the hall to give her a hug, and others who have begun to wonder what all the fuss is about begin to

find their voice.

"When we moved her 13 years ago we had a big mortgage and an empty diary," says Michael, who runs a guest house with his wife Sandra.

"Some people seem to have very short memories, they've seem to have forgotten how difficult life was here when foot and mouth hit. The village was like a ghost town and the reality is that the businesses in Grassington couldn't survive solely on the money spent by villagers. We need tourism and if anything helps raise our profile and get people coming here, then it has to be a good thing."

A couple of off-cumdens, (the North Yorkshire name for incomers) call for the same warm welcome they found to be extended to the new families and the mood finally begins to soften.

"I bumped into an old friend the other day," adds one man, whose family ties to Grassington date back to 1346.

"He said his father had gone to the dentist in Skipton. I thought he must have toothache. No, they said, the TV people are coming, he's gone to get a new pair of dentures."

Isaacs and his team are no doubt hoping they will put a similar smile on the faces all the residents when the finished programme is aired next year.