The Celebrity Circle review – 'catfishing Big Brother' is hard to quit

No series is more pandemic-ready, or more adaptable to a celebrity version, than The Circle (Channel 4), which made this Stand Up to Cancer special something of a winner before it even began. The non-celebrity Circle was a surprise hit, and I say surprise because a competitive reality show based on text messages doesn’t sound like a surefire smash. But what emerged was a gripping, garish format in which contestants could be themselves, or “catfish” their fellow competitors by pretending to be someone else. The Black Mirror connotations were noted by many.

Putting celebrities into this was, surely, inevitable, and I wonder if, in the same way that Celebrity Big Brother became the one to watch even when the regular series had grown tired, this will become the definitive Circle. Here, famous people are free to try to win over the other contestants with the force of their own personality, however genuine that really is; or they may think their star is not bright enough, and decide to play the game as someone else. All the while, they are cooped up in a block of flats in Salford, either completely alone or with another celebrity, which adds a nice micro-Big Brother flavour to the mix.

Things soon descend to a frankly bonkers spectacle, as someone from Towie and someone from Made in Chelsea team up to pretend to be Countdown’s Rachel Riley (someone, please, set them a maths puzzle) and two Loose Women presenters wonder whether Gemma Collins or Duncan from Blue soiled themselves on live television. Strap in: this is entertainment now.

Anyone who, like me, has an increasingly loose grasp on who is famous and what they might be famous for – a spiral exacerbated by the digital age – will be relieved that there are, at least, no TikTok celebrities here. There are few things more ageing than wondering why “sea shanty” or “feta pasta” have made someone notorious. But 20-year-old YouTuber Saffron Barker is on hand to represent the Gen-Z-ers. She may lack life experience, but she knows how to cast subtle shade on her competitors. She says she feels rude because she has no idea who Denise Van Outen or Duncan James are. “She’s actually the same age as my mum,” she later coos, of Van Outen.

There must be some guidelines about whom the catfishing celebrities can pretend to be. When Saffron wonders if she will end up speaking to Mary Berry pretending to be the Rock, there is a sense that she might need to dial down her expectations somewhat. Even Radio 1 DJs Rickie and Melvin seem to be pushing it as will.i.am. But watching the celebrities work out their strategies is fascinating, as is the reasoning behind it. Denise and Duncan think they’re personable enough to make it just the way they are, and this is sweet, and potentially naive. The drag queen Baga Chipz has chosen How Clean Is Your House presenter and reality veteran Kim Woodburn, in part because she knows her, and can turn out an impression that transcends mere messaging and tips into full method. Lady Leshurr decides to be Big Narstie, because “men usually win everything in life”. If linguistics students are not studying every moment of this show, then they are missing out on crucial research, not least in the parameters of “flanter” (flirty banter).

As with any reality/competition show, apart from MasterChef, the first episode is there to introduce people rather than ramp up the drama. Already, by its end, there is the promise of some real tension, as the two most popular “influencers” have to boot out one subpar performer. If they do so because something doesn’t ring true about an impersonation, then that’s all fair and reasonable, but if it ends up being one of the competitors appealing to humanity’s better nature by playing themselves with no embellishments, then it’s another sign that the new reality is curated and filtered and there’s nothing we can do about it.

It feels like the last gasp of fame as we know it, celebrity culture collapsing in on itself, but as Nadia Sawalha and Kaye Adams began to flounder over their fake Gemma Collins flantering with Big Narstie (“You are probably chatting up Edwina Currie”), I knew I was in it for the long haul, or at least for all six episodes. Can fake Big Narstie convince other fake celebrities that the real Big Narstie forgot he was afraid of fish? Circle, schedule “Celebrity Circle reminder” for the rest of the week.