A Rotten Apple Dipped In Gold, Can Nothing Stop Our Obsession With Toxic Reality Tv?
Big Brother, the show that launched a thousand other reality TV shows, is making a comeback. It was announced during the Love Island final that the OG of reality TV is returning in 2023. Given the astounding popularity of Love Island, is it really a shock that ITV wants to try and cash in on this golden age of reality television?
Well, maybe it should be. The timing is a little uneasy, following a number of suicides of reality TV contestants over the past decade. Can we morally justify locking people up in fabricated environments for weeks and inviting the public to watch on, as though they are animals in a zoo?
This debate has become a bit of a hot topic, with documentaries and podcasts made about the aftermath for contestants and charting the horrific impact it can have on their lives. Ovie Soko, a former Love Island contestant, presented a documentary on the dark side of fame, describing the format of the reality TV show as “a rotten apple dipped in gold’. However, despite all the trauma that it has caused, nothing seems to be stopping reality TV from being commissioned.
Why? Because we, the public, the people watching the shows, are addicted to them. They are designed to be addictive. Just like video games and online casino games, where the format and design of the games is such that players keep playing and wanting more, reality TV keeps people watching.
Fans of these reality shows know that they’re bad, they understand exactly why they are bad, yet the promise of the endorphin hit every night is enough to keep coaxing them back, to justify watching it again and again. The format and the narrative of the show that the producers manufacture is clever: not only does it keep viewers watching, but it encourages them to react, whether that be to tweet, google, or discuss with friends. The public cannot help getting involved. And once invested in the show, they cannot become un-invested.
Some argue that contestants surely know what they are getting themselves into when they sign up to be on these shows – it is their choice to participate after all. But the lure of fame and fortune can cloud judgment, and they may feel that they are mentally strong enough and likeable enough to leave a good impression. However, nothing can prepare them for the impact. And nothing can prepare them for the manipulation of their character by the producers, who have the power to make the public love or hate a cast member by manufacturing what the public sees.
Recently there have been calls for these reality shows to protect their casts better. There are now therapists on set to protect the mental health of those on camera, as well as support beyond the show, when they enter the ‘real’ world again. Love Island uses psychological tests and screening before casting to ensure that their contestants are ‘mentally stable’. But is this enough? They may appear stable before they sign up, but once the cameras start rolling and once the cameras then stop rolling, can they ever be fully prepared for the impact it will have on their lives?
It is impossible to consume reality TV in a way that is responsible – because the format itself is not responsible. And while we may have fond memories of past series of Big Brother and some of the lovable cast members, our nostalgic pleasure at the return of the show should not come at the cost of the well-being of the vulnerable people who get picked to participate in the programs.
