Remembering 'Popstars': Sophie Monk’s Television Break Out

Sophie Monk's current reign as reality TV queen and national icon as the latest series of The Bachelorette has been heartwarming.

In 2000, things were a little different. Then, Monk was just another fresh-faced, 19-year-old hopeful on music talent contest Popstars. Living with her parents on the Gold Coast, and working as a Marilyn Monroe impersonator at Movie World, Monk drove nine hours overnight to make the TV show's audition round in Sydney, impressing the judges with her rendition of Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On".

Popstars began in New Zealand 1999. The creation of local TV producer Jonathan Dowling, the show would create and chart the formation of TrueBliss, New Zealand's own all-girl pop group, following contestants through open-call auditions and harsh elimination rounds. When a final five girls were selected, they'd win a record deal, with the show further chronicling the recording and release of their debut single. This may seem trite in 2017, when competitive-based, talent-driven shows are the mainstay of reality TV. But when Popstars originally aired, it was the first of its kind. The show spawned a global franchise launched in 50 different countries, inspired hundreds of knock-off shows such as The X-Factor, the Idol franchise, and The Voice, and laid the foundations for contemporary reality television.

The first Australian season launched in 2000 and thousands of young women turned up to audition in major cities, vying for the chance at pop stardom. Donning crop tops and thinly plucked eyebrows, girls belted out (and often butchered) songs like "Ain't No Sunshine" in front of a judging panel that included radio host Jackie O, Warner music's Chris Moss, and music manager Michael Napthali.

It makes sense that a show of this kind first found its footing on New Zealand and Australia's screens. Geographically isolated and far removed from entertainment epicenters, cracking into the pop industry was near-impossible for Aussie musicians in 2000. Singers didn't have the luxury of Soundcloud, Youtube or even Myspace. Being discovered out-of-the-blue was unfathomable.

There was also a nationalistic element at play. With so much of pop culture imported from America and the UK, it was obvious that the show's target audience of young girls would gravitate towards local, relatable pop artists that looked and talked like them. We took pride in taking ownership over "our Kylie", and it seemed obvious we'd love our own version of the Spice Girls too.

Watching the first series of the Australian show now, what's most striking is how unglamorous it all appears; a contrast to the more glitzy, star-studded and polished modern-day variations of the show. The women go to Sydney, not Hollywood. The practice and audition spaces look like high school gyms and cheap hotels. There are long grueling hours at recording studios. When the final five girls are selected to form a band – called Bardot - they move into an old Sydney terrace house together.

There are no wild characters, or seething tensions, or notable bust-ups. Maybe I've become so accustomed the callousness and cruelty of conflict depicted on reality TV today, but the women on the show seem pretty tame in comparison. Even Sophie Monk, known for her boisterous and funny personality, appears relatively mild-mannered. Even when the show strikes reality TV gold, Popstars' producers choose to look the other way. When 19-year-old Bardot member Chantelle Barry is expelled from the band after being caught stealing cash from Monk, the show chose to leave the drama to the tabloids, instead citing Barry's booting as a departure due to personal matters.

The music of the band feels like an afterthought; a saccharine slice of gummy pop that is formulaic and way less fun than the Spice Girls. And yet I admire the band's full-embrace of their plasticity. Even the album art on their debut LP seems like a nod to their constructed image. The girls' bodies are contorted in awkward, stilted positions, making the band look like a bunch of blow-up dolls, with band member Kati Underwood appearing to be pissing out of a latex bodysuit onto a robotic dog (what is the discourse supposed to be here? That they're bitches? That the band are marking their territory? Unknown artistic director of this LP cover: please contact me).

Cultivating a sustainable career after the cameras stop rolling has been an issue for many acts that have emerged out of reality TV, something Bardot was not immune to. After the show wrapped up, the band was riding high off the coattails of the series. Their single, "Poison" was #1, as was their debut record. They performed at the Arias. They made Westfield shopping mall appearances to thousands of fans. But as quick as their ascent had been, so was their slip into obscurity. A few months after Popstars aired, Bardot's New Zealand tour was cancelled due to poor ticket sales. Their second record fell quickly out of the charts. Just over two and a half years after Bardot had formed, the band would announce they were over for good.

It seems fitting that Monk - after numerous stints on radio and in film - finds herself back where it began: reality television. While programs like Popstars and The Bachelorette may have different outcomes - one promises to turn young nobodies into music stars, the other to provide contestants with a chance at love - the audiences watch for the same reasons: to see the drama unfold and to revel in the novelty of all-Australian celebrity. And as much as we hate to admit it, a lot of the appeal comes not in seeing people succeed, but in being a voyeur to failure and finding perverse pleasure in other's misery and emotional turmoil. The product these shows produce, be it recording artists or romantic couples, is secondary to watching the messy journeys unfurl on TV and in tabloids.

Popstars would only last two more seasons before ending in 2002, right before Australian Idol would come to dominate the genre. Despite it's short run, it's influence on what we now watch is undeniable. It can also be seen as a time-capsule, capturing a much kinder, gentler period of reality TV history, where producers weren't hell-bent on cultivating villainy and conflict. Plus, it produced Sophie Monk, something we can all be thankful for.

Isabella Trimboli is a co-editor and co-founder of Gusher. Follow her on Twitter.