The reality shows thriving on feelgood vibes

At first glance, there is nothing out of the ordinary about new reality series The Piano. Ostensibly a TV talent show played out in public spaces, it sets out to find Britain’s best amateur pianists using instruments strategically installed in UK rail stations. While participants, who span all ages and backgrounds, perform everything from Prokofiev’s “Dance of the Knights” to TLC’s “No Scrubs”, host Claudia Winkleman cheers from the sidelines and passers-by stop to film them on their phones.

What the performers don’t know is that they are being watched from behind the scenes by British-American pop star Mika and celebrated Chinese classical pianist Lang Lang, who together deliver exceedingly kindly critique. At the end of each episode, all come together for a jam session, during which the two judges pick one person to perform at a special end-of-series concert at London’s Royal Festival Hall.

What sets The Piano apart is that it is resolutely not about the winning. Ruthlessness and a rush to judgment, whether from the voting public or a panel of “experts”, have long been part and parcel of the reality TV experience, from The X Factor and Strictly Come Dancing to I’m a Celebrity . . . Get Me Out of Here! and Love Island — that and the naked ambition of contestants hungry for fame and prize money. Whether through assigned tasks or clever editing, these shows habitually manipulate situations to manufacture conflict, create victims and villains or simply set contestants up for mass ridicule. It’s little wonder that, in 2020, the UK regulator Ofcom saw fit to issue new guidelines to protect the wellbeing of those taking part.

By contrast, The Piano is all about feelgood vibes, making it closer in spirit to The Great British Bake Off or The Great Pottery Throwdown, wholesome competitions notable for their warmth and camaraderie where the joy is as much in the making as the triumphing. There is a reason why performers aren’t told about the presence of Mika and Lang Lang, and that is so they can be entirely themselves, free of anxiety about how they might be judged. At the end of each episode, when the pianist who will be performing at the concert is named, it is done without the customary drumrolls and drawn-out pauses, all of which ensures that no one is left feeling like a loser.

Central to the series’ success is what we glean about its participants, for whom the piano represents so much more than a hobby, and whose stories yield many lump-in-the-throat moments. We meet Jay, an ex-raver and former drug user from the Isle of Wight who has “seen a lot of people die” and has found solace and a path out of his self-destructiveness through music, and Harry, a 93-year-old who met his wife, Patricia, 50 years ago while playing piano in a bar in Aberdeen. Harry is now a carer for Patricia, who has dementia and doesn’t always know who he is. The piano provides rare moments of connection as she taps along to Harry’s playing. It also offers respite from his caring duties: “You can’t play the piano if you’re thinking about something else,” he says. “It’s like going on holiday.”

And there’s 13-year-old Lucy who is blind and neurodivergent. When she was young and in hospital, she was given a toy piano on which she learnt to play “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” so well that the nurses thought it was a recording. For Lucy, who cannot maintain a verbal conversation, music has become a means of communication. And so we watch her being led to the piano by her teacher, and delivering a performance of Chopin’s Nocturne in B flat minor so flawless and beautiful that it leaves Mika and Lang Lang speechless, and much of the assembled crowd in tears.

If all this makes The Piano sound unashamedly sentimental, it absolutely is. The manipulation levels are turned up high as the pianists with the most unusual or unhappy backstories are given maximum prominence. That many are filmed at home with their families indicates that, far from being plucked at random and asked to bash out a tune on the spot, each of the participants has been carefully selected by producers. But none of this detracts from a series that is less a regular talent show than a heart-warming patchwork of human stories and a paean to the therapeutic properties of the piano. It would take a heart of stone not to fall for its charms.

On Wednesdays at 9pm on Channel 4 and on All4 now