If you build it, they will come. By “they” we mean Home of the Year (RTÉ One, Tuesday, 8.30pm) and its judges, Hugh Wallace, Amanda Bone and Sara Cosgrove. They waft back into the schedules full of bonhomie and eager to praise. Hardly a minute goes by without someone saying something like, “This home is about perfection ... It’s a lesson in making a statement without forgetting the details.”
Home of the Year makes a bit of a statement itself. And that statement is that it’s the anti-Room to Improve. The Dermot Bannon blockbuster, which recently wrapped its latest season, surfs on jitters and conflict. There’s almost always a row about joisting; every episode can be counted on for a moment when Bannon, his long-suffering project manager, or the pair of them look as if they’re about to swallow their hard hats in frustration.
There’s none of that on Home of the Year. This is ambient TV with the temperature turned up to roaringly toasty. Homes are visited and compliments paid, and everyone scores at least seven out of 10. You’ll see more tooth-and-claw conflict on CBeebies Bedtime Stories.
This week the judging trio hopscotch between Dublin, Armagh and Meath. In each case they visit a home straight out of an urban-design brochure. First it’s Ciara McMahon and Richie Hannify and their expanded 1950s residence in the Dublin suburbs.
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“I get a bit excitable when it comes to interiors,” says Richie. The judges are almost as enthusiastic. They praise the decision to incorporate a wall into the kitchen extension rather than simply have acres of glass.
But Bone is triggered when she encounters a cupboard bristling with colourful wallpaper. Her jaw slackens, her eyes glitter darkly. It’s too much – and to prove the point she forces the other two judges in and shuts the door. It’s like the opening scene of an offbeat horror movie – Home of the Fear? “The patterns – they belong in there,” Bone says with a shudder. “I belong out here.”
Next it’s off to Northern Ireland for a restored rural cottage that looks like Bunratty folk village on growth hormones. “I’ve walked from a traditional cottage to a traditional American dream,” Wallace gasps as he goes from one room to another. “I even have a wagon wheel.”
Finally, in Meath, they visit a one-off house with a difference. The barn-like structure has been designed in sympathy with the landscape rather than hogging the horizon like the Dark Tower of Mordor, with 15 en suite bathrooms and a trampoline out the back for the Nazgûl. The judges are broadly approving, although Cosgrove is spooked by a work desk in the bedroom. “I’d struggle to relax here,” she says.
To crank up the tension the combined scores for the homes are not revealed until the final minutes. This week the Dublin house carries the day and so will go on to the next round. But it’s hard to imagine the losing households are too devastated. This is tickle-under-the-chin TV, where it’s about taking part rather than bragging rights.
If it were any more laid-back, Home of the Year would be pointing towards the floor. But, in an angry, overstimulated world, that’s a unique selling point, and the series exploits it to the maximum.
