Remote Patrol

With Jerry Springer and Oprah Winfrey ruling the syndicated talk-show ratings, it was only a matter of time before someone tried to combine the two: Take Jerry's formula of turning people's personal squabbles into entertainment and put an Oprah-like happy face on it. This fall, two syndicated shows — Change of Heart and Forgive or Forget — are attempting just such a hybrid, with surprising success. The new Hollywood Squares and The Roseanne Show might have gotten all the hype, but Change and Forgive are creating genuine buzz.

The latest brainchild of Studs creator Scott St. John, Change is another twist on the dating-game genre: Unmarried couples are set up with strangers picked to fill needs their partners aren't meeting (e.g., a woman who complains that her boyfriend is obsessed with porn gets fixed up with a clean-cut kindergarten teacher). As the significant other gazes on jealously, the guests describe their date in drooling detail. Then both decide if they want to stay together or have a ''change of heart'' (hence the title, repeated ad nauseam).

Paired with a wan new Love Connection, Change is targeted for late-night slots but is thriving in New York City at 10 a.m., between showings of Jerry. Despite the mutual airing of guests' dirty laundry, St. John feels the two shows don't have much in common: ''We have a lighter sense of humor. We're not hitting anybody with a chair.''

Change is undeniably fun, although you get the feeling some couples are being broken up prematurely (''the relationships that end are the ones that weren't that strong to begin with,'' St. John rationalizes). But, like Studs, Change's central gimmick could wear thin quickly — especially if the show can't find a more engaging emcee than Dallas DJ Chris Jagger, who resembles a cross between John Tesh and a fish.

The host of Forgive, on the other hand, provides the show's greatest strength. As her stage alias implies, Mother Love (the stand-up comic- turned-talk-radio maven refuses to reveal her real name) radiates a soothing warmth. Her program's concept, however, is a bit more problematic. Guests who've wronged someone tape an apology, and we watch as the abused party views the video. The penitents then stand by a door, which opens to reveal either the one they've mistreated (meaning they've been forgiven) or no one (meaning they can forget it). The potential for public humiliation is huge, yet even as it exploits people's pain (''Were you responsible for someone's death?'' asked an on-air promo for a future episode. ''Then you could be a guest!''), Forgive makes for queasily compelling television.

But at least it offers the possibility of a happy ending, which is more than can be said for some other shows. ''Jerry Springer and I have very little in common,'' says Mother Love. ''We heal here, not hurt.'' Like Oprah (whom she recently beat in New York City), Mother Love is a true TV star, capable of dishing out both tough love and sincere sympathy. ''On this show, it's okay to cry,'' says the host, who often weeps openly. She's a larger-than-life figure ripe for an SNL parody (Tracy Morgan could reuse his Star Jones wig from the View skits).