OH 'BROTHER' - PASS THE REMOTE.

Byline: David Kronke TV Critic

``Privacy is a form of opacity, and opacity has its values. We need more shades and more blinds and more virtual curtains.''

- Jeffrey Rosen, ``The Unwanted Gaze''

The only thing shocking so far about CBS' new reality series ``Big Brother'' is how they almost frittered away the whole franchise with Wednesday's stultifyingly dull debut. I say vote host (and soon-to-be-former journalist) Julie Chen, she of the insanely fluttering hands, and ``reporter'' Ian O'Malley, whose transparent phoniness should automatically strip the show of its ``reality'' moniker, off the series first, and tout de suite.

That idiotic caravan of houseguests - and their first shameless product placement, for SUVs - galumphed along so endlessly it felt like they were driving in from Arizona. The profiles made the houseguests seem as hopelessly bland as New Age musicians - what kind of battles could these Yawnis get into?

These guys, however, started mixing it up almost immediately, with William trying to turn the bedrooms coed - they were trying a little too hard at this point, it seems, to provoke one another. Were they able to read this, I'd have reminded them: It's a marathon, guys, not a sprint; ease up.

Then came Friday's episode, filled with tedious discourse and kooky makeovers and embarrassing chicken dances, and I was hungering for caged deathmatches. If that's the best they can manage for prime time, how dull must the live Internet streams be?

It's a little hard, initially, to define what CBS saw in this bunch. For one thing, casting not one, but two film/TV college majors - Eddie and Jordan - seems a touch of mediacentric overkill - this show will be painfully self-reflexive enough without these two deconstructing everything. Scratch them from the scorecard, on the other hand, and you lose two major TV archetypes: Guy who surmounted his handicap; stripper desperately trying to justify shedding her knickers for pathetic drunks.

Julie, the chipmunk-voiced, purported brainiac who looks like a descendant of Rondo Hatton (prediction: The winner will be the first to give her an unnecessary tracheotomy), and the inevitably named Brittany, whose belabored quirkiness is as rebellious as a Tommy Hilfiger wardrobe, will clearly become tiresome quickly.

Curtis, the born-again attorney, is a walking contradiction and still dull. William has appointed himself the role of provocateur/mac daddy; if he gets voted off, things will get really dull really quickly. And the less said about the lachrymose fortysomething parents who constantly weep about abandoning their children, the better: If these sniveling fogies can't seize responsibility meaningfully for their kids, how can they be expected to contribute usefully to this household?

The show's battle royale at this point is between Karen and her husband, and he's not even on the show; if the guy isn't contacting a divorce attorney today after her Saturday brutal slagfest of him, he's even more brittle than she said he was.

But for those who think this represents the penultimate, wheezing gasps of our tattered culture, relax: The number of people who seriously considered venturing into the house is lower than, for example, the number of murderers in this country. Those in the house are therefore merely a statistical anomaly, and the houseguests who could be most damaged by their decision to do this - i.e., the parents - were the ones who most should have been smart enough not to do this (well, their kids are no doubt already embarrassed by their parents' antics).

Those who feel these shows diminish the concept of celebrity - who grouse these guys haven't worked hard enough to deserve the attention being heaped upon them - haven't bothered to notice how much celebrity has already been cheapened by the Monica Lewinskys of the world.

The only people for whom this show represents a legitimate pain in the side are TV critics, who have to churn out think pieces about reality TV and skirt what they really think, which is, people who get addicted to this stuff are idiots. Most of us will tune in from time to time for a guilty glimpse and walk away, sated and relieved that our own privacy still exists, no matter how nominally. No one will be forced to watch it, so there's no need to pummel it too much; though, admittedly, you do have to read a lot about it in the Daily News.

The facts

--The show: ``Big Brother''

--What: You know by now

--Where: CBS (Channel 2)

--When: The show airs for a half-hour Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays, and for an hour Thursday (when it's live) and Saturday (when it basically recaps the week)

--Our rating: Two stars.

CAPTION(S):

2 photos

Photo: ``Big Brother'' hosts Julie Chen and Ian O'Malley are best heard on mute, along with the rest of the show's cast.

Guilty pleasure will be the only thing prompting most to tune in to watch the dozing adventures on ``Big Brother.''

Monte Brinton/CBS