I could say I watch to star gaze/gawk. Who doesn't wanna see deaf actress Marlee Matlin face the music and dance? Heck, it's cheap fun just imagining hulking cynic neo-hipster Penn Jillette attempting to fox-trot.

But it's more than that. There's something that sets "DWTS" apart - above - other reality competitions. Actually, there are several:

We already know the characters - or think we do. No setup necessary here, none of that tedious who's who that fills the premiere of other reality competitions. The recognition factor of "DWTS" is proclaimed by its title, though a few competitors seem more like guest stars. (Stacy Keibler? Shandi Finnessey?) So this show doesn't get to define cast personalities the way others can position competitors as The Gay Guy, The Pageant Babe or The Gravedigger. We already know who these individuals are. Yet we also learn how wrong our assumptions can be.



These contestants have something to lose. The dancing stars can come off smarter or nicer than we thought. Or dumber and meaner. Where regular folks stand to gain from their competition stints, performers who've already accomplished such things are putting themselves on the line, very publicly - and vulnerably.



We see the stars without makeup. Sometimes figuratively, but also literally, and in high-definition. While the stars get the full Hollywood treatment for onstage performances, they're fairly naked in both grooming and emotion in that casual footage shot during training sessions. We can assume the producers do them some favors in editing, but they can't be on guard every second while struggling to master an ability that's foreign to them.



They have to learn a real skill, out of their comfort zone. Sure, some stars seem to have had previous dancing experience. (Yes, you, Mario Lopez.) But most really are truly challenged by something more difficult than they'd expected and over which they have little command. Watch them being dressed down by their professional partners. Stars are generally control freaks, because people let them be, and here they're so absolutely not in charge that it's fascinating psychology. "Dancing With the Stars" isn't about strategy, for the most part, or cunning, or back-stabbing. It's about hard work. Now there's some reality.

They're at our mercy. Of course the stars do play (pander) to the audience. (Yes, you, Marie Osmond.) They have to win our votes. They can't stand on previous fame/accomplishments, or rely on pure talent/improvement. They need us to like them, root for them, phone for them. The power!



That's entertainment. "DWTS" is a textbook example of savvy production construction. First, there's great casting. Gushy but frank American babe Carrie Ann Inaba. Stern British grandfather/taskmaster Len Goodman. Bubbly Italian language-mangler Bruno Tonioli. Host Tom Bergeron makes the ideal referee/commentator - relaxed, warm, witty, sometimes even cutting. He feels like one of us, making the optimum host for this sort of semi-campy show. (And grinny co-host Samantha Harris? We love mocking the eye candy, too.)

But the whole show is smartly designed, from the cheesy ballroom with the rear stage steps, to the glitzy ice-skating-spectacular costumes, to the whooping live audience stocked with star pals, to the backstage interview pit with fellow contestants perched on sofas as a forced-smile backdrop. There's a delirious retro feel, akin to a variety/game/ talkfest mashup. Bergeron even introduces the bandleader weekly, in his own Johnny Carson-Doc Severinsen flashback.

What's not to love? And that's the point. Where so many reality shows are mean-spirited, product-pushing, shamelessly tear-jerking or designed to elicit bad behavior, "Dancing With the Stars" is one big gleeful crowd-pleaser. It's competitive, yes, but not cutthroat. It's delightful rather than down-and-dirty.

It's just great TV. And that's my biggest weakness of all.