MONTEREY, Calif. -- On a rainy Saturday morning, in a rented storefront a few yards from Cannery Row, a crew from the CBS series "Candid Camera" prepares for a long day. The "gag" they're attempting is deceptively simple: unwitting citizens who drop off film at a one-hour photo-developing shop will return to find that establishment inexplicably transformed into a dry cleaner. The shop's mock proprietor -- in both cases, Peter Funt, the show's executive producer and co-host (with sitcom-actress Suzanne Somers) -- will profess benign noncomprehension of his customers' quandary. Said customers' reactions will be secretly recorded by a hidden camera and microphone.
Since the segment is to be spontaneous and unscripted, almost nothing has been left to chance. The stunt has been discussed and planned for weeks, possible locations scouted, camera angles and lighting fine-tuned, camera moves repeatedly rehearsed. To insure and control the flow of subjects, the production company has set up a make-believe suite of offices, hired four temporary workers -- two for the morning and two for the afternoon -- assigned them busywork and carefully scheduled their photo-shop "errand."As a backup, a real photo-developing shop nearby has been paid to feign equipment failure and direct its customers to the trap.
It takes hours of hard work to erect a reversible set and dress the Fast Photo outlet to Funt's specifications. At midmorning comes discouraging news: only one of the morning temps has shown up for work, the temporary agency is closed for the weekend and rain has reduced foot traffic in the real photo shop to zero.
Funt sighs and orders the remaining temp dispatched. In a back room the camera and sound recorder are manned and the rest of the crew crouches silently. A few minutes later a serene-looking young woman named Andrea Montes arrives. She is taped dropping off a roll of film for her employer, being instructed to return in one hour and departing.
The instant she is out of sight the crew springs from its hiding place and turns Fast Photo into Mitchell's Cleaners in about 30 minutes. Funt changes into different clothing and stands nonchalantly behind the counter. Forty-five minutes later, Montes returns, passes back and forth several times in front of the store, then disappears up the street. Funt and his associates maintain their positions. And strict silence. Five minutes later Montes returns, enters and -- eyes flickering slightly with confusion -- approaches the counter.
"Do you have cleaning?" asks Funt.
"No," says Montes, nonplused.
For several minutes Funt maintains the charade, evoking several more brief expressions of puzzlement. Finally, Funt breaks character and informs Montes that she has been caught by "Candid Camera." Montes smiles shyly, signs a release form proffered by a waiting staff member and is on her way. This incident will yield roughly 30 seconds of footage.
To an invited guest, watching the action via a small backstage monitor, this seems a grueling and stomach-churning way to create TV comedy: more masochism then voyeurism, merry pranksterism laced with strict discipline.
Perhaps that's why "Candid Camera" -- at least a collateral precursor of such varied fin de siecle phenomena as "America's Funniest Home Videos," ATM surveillance cameras, nannycams, FBI sting operations, "The Truman Show" and Linda Tripp -- remains a beloved institution.
And undoubtedly this is why CBS has chosen to return to its roots and revive this 51-year-old franchise. Although rerun-drenched baby boomers might assume that the show had never left the air, "Candid Camera" had a 30-year hiatus, at least as a regular network series. Reintroduced as a half-hour series in February 1997, it promptly rewarded its CBS benefactors by turning in more than decent ratings, at considerably lower cost than a star-driven sitcom.
"This year to date, it's done around a 7.8 rating and a 15 share, and in this day and age, a 15 share means survival," says Bill Croasdale, executive vice president of Western International Media, a Los Angeles media management company. Croasdale adds that the show's audience "skews toward the older demographic" but that at 7:30 p.m. Friday, against ABC's teenager-oriented lineup, it does as well as or even better than could be expected.
Terry Botwick, CBS's senior vice president for specials and current programming, says: "It may feel a little retro, but that's OK. It's actually an American cultural icon. It says a lot about the strength of the show that it's remained at that level of stature even after long spells off the air."
"And everybody," adds Botwick, "knows the theme song."
According to Funt, the 51-year-old son of Allen Funt, "Candid Camera's" creator, the responsible use of hidden cameras -- a credo he says his show adheres to strictly -- entails a basic respect, even admiration, for the people being secretly taped. "I think the public is aware of the fact that we are on guard -- that they don't have to worry about being embarrassed uncomfortably. They don't have to worry about us invading people's privacy. It was very clear in my dad's work that he cared about people. And I feel the same way. I believe people are wonderful."
Of course, Funt adds, wonderful "Candid Camera" segments walk a fine line between humiliation and good-natured provocation, one that he maintains is never intentionally crossed.
This year's segments have included a dentist's office where patients in the waiting room are subjected to loud banging, groaning and cries of pain from the next room; a Halloween pumpkin patch with a free "all you can carry" offer; a toll booth installed on a New Hampshire hiking path; a bank teller selling counterfeit money at an attractive discount, and a movie theater manager who instructs arriving cineastes to line up in alphabetical order. All would have fit perfectly in many of the show's previous incarnations.
Allen Funt, who started "Candid Microphone" on radio in 1947, brought the concept to ABC's television division the following year. "Candid Camera" was broadcast on various networks and in various time slots until 1960, when it entered what must be considered its golden age.
Produced in New York, it became part of CBS's powerhouse Sunday night lineup, which included "Lassie," "The Ed Sullivan Show" and "What's My Line." The show was frequently in the Nielsen top 10; in 1962 it finished second, with a staggering 31.1 rating, to "The Beverly Hillbillies."
During most of the 1960s, Allen Funt was a national symbol of ingenious merriment; Peter, who first appeared on the show as a shoeshine boy at age 3, spent his summer vacations helping out on the set and appearing in gags, most notably as a spray-painted Roman statue who jabbed museumgoers with his spear when their backs were turned. The show was swept off the CBS schedule in 1967.
In 1987 Peter Funt joined his father ("He was getting older and it was a little bit tough for him," he says) to be co-host of the show's 40th-anniversary special, and from then on worked full time in the family business.
In 1993 Allen Funt suffered a disabling stroke that forced him into retirement. (He is now 84.)
Shortly afterward, says Peter Funt, he discovered that his overseas distributor had been withholding royalties and letting the show's archival material disintegrate. A long legal battle ensued, during which time network programmers, with memories of a failed syndicated version in the '70s still fresh, were not interested in "Candid Camera." Funt says, "That was a very bad period."
In 1997, however, CBS ordered a 50th-anniversary special, which won surprisingly high ratings when shown opposite "Friends" on NBC. Several more specials followed, then a network pickup.
Understandably, Funt sees no reason to tinker with the age-old formula, especially the meticulous attention to detail and -- truly astounding in these days of mace, lawsuits and million-dollar-per-episode performers -- the practice of ambushing ordinary citizens, letting them make mild fools of themselves, then paying them $30 to appear on national TV.
Virtually no one, says Funt, refuses to sign his waiver. "Well, people are basically good-natured about it," he explains.