I Am the Ambassador: Nothing’s rotten in Denmark

I Am the Ambassador: Nothing’s rotten in Denmark

If the key to a successful reality show is a bickering cast and manufactured drama, Denmark did not get the memo.

Originally produced as a Danish slice-of-life style reality series, “I Am the Ambassador” follows the daily routine of Rufus Gifford, the current US ambassador stationed in Denmark.

Gifford is noteworthy in the US because he is an openly gay ambassador, making him a rare commodity. As far as the Danish producers and film crew care, though, he’s simply a cool dude to hang out with.

While smash hit reality TV here at home relies almost entirely on producers getting pitiful excuses for adults to either have sex or whine at each other for having too little sex, this import does nothing but show a charming man living an impossibly happy 40th birthday.

Gifford’s ambassadorial accomplishments in the pilot episode include borrowing a C-130 cargo plane from the Danish military to aid in the fight against ISIL, going to the gym and hosting a screening of “True Detective” on his lawn (for some reason).

Beyond that Gifford shows off his adorable old dog, drinks wine with old friends, has a heartfelt reunion with his partner and attends a large party arranged by said partner.

The closest thing to conflict the show approaches is dedicating a scant ten percent of the already short run-time to an American journalist being beheaded by ISIL, which even then turns into Gifford discussing the situation with calm, quiet consideration and respect.

Basically, there’s nothing wrong with Gifford’s life beyond all of his friends living in the US while he’s stationed in Denmark. Even then, a lot of them seem to have no problem hopping the Atlantic on occasion.

In the end, “Ambassador” is an anomaly. Created for a different cultural palette, this show can only exist in the magical land of online streaming.

There is no conflict, there is no drama. One simply watches for the pleasure of watching an attractive man talk to other attractive people, occasionally stopping to either laugh, cry, or have a heartfelt moment with an attractive loved one.

In the same way one has nothing to gain from watching a Michael Bay film, one has nothing to gain from “I Am an Ambassador.”

It’s the television form of air-popped popcorn: not bad for one’s health, but just bland enough to not keep one’s attention the whole time.