On Television, Part II: Reality TV Competitions

Everyone’s got a guilty pleasure: something they’re ashamed to admit they really like because it’s regarded as either socially unacceptable or too mainstream. Mine is reality TV competitions.

The first reality TV competition I ever regularly watched was American Idol, a singing show that has been running for 17 seasons now. When I started watching Idol, the show was already on its 7th season and had jumpstarted the careers of several talented performers, including Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood.

American Idol played directly into the romantic vision of the American Dream, and I think that’s what I liked most about it at first. The show emphasized how hard work and perseverance could turn someone like a nameless bartender or a stay-at-home parent into a celebrity adored by millions. Being a first-generation immigrant myself, this message really resonated with me; everything my parents had told me about the opportunities for success that existed in the U.S. was echoed by the charismatic show host Ryan Seacrest. I got to see a cohort of contestants learn, grow, and challenge themselves, and I lived vicariously through them as they chased a dream that the star-struck ten-year-old me also had (it was too bad that, unlike the contestants, I couldn’t actually sing on-key).

American Idol was my first foray into the reality TV genre, but it was far from my last. Soon, I began watching So You Think You Can Dance and MasterChef, which were essentially American Idol for dancing and cooking, respectively. My mom really liked the channel TLC, and I would sometimes watch Project Runway, a fashion-design competition, with her, as well. One summer, I binge watched multiple seasons of America’s Next Top Model, a competition for aspiring fashion models, and another summer I fell upon The Glee Project, in which contestants vied for a role on the TV drama Glee (oddly enough, I never actually watched Glee itself).

These shows intrigued me, in part, because of the elimination format they used. Each week, a contestant is cut from the show for performing poorly until one winner is ultimately crowned. While watching, I felt such second-hand anxiety for the contestants, who could be sent “home” at any moment. Following along to see who survived each week’s cut was an addictive activity. At the same time, these shows also sparked my early passion for statistics. I could spend hours analyzing elimination rosters to make predictions on how upcoming rounds would play out. The actual results often kept me on my toes nonetheless; a fan-favorite could be eliminated, or someone who screwed up badly could be spared in favor of sending home a more mediocre contestant.

I stayed up until 2 AM one night a few weeks ago making this roster to track progress on one of my favorite reality competitions this summer, Are You The One?

The elimination style of these shows has another significant effect, though. It allows producers to market some contestants as underdogs: individuals who continue to survive elimination week-after-week, despite being thought to have little chance of winning the competition. Underdogs add an element of surprise to the shows. How are they still in the competition? viewers ask. Will this be the week they finally go home?

There’s an interesting psychological basis to how we perceive underdogs. In a recent Harvard Gazette interview, Harvard Business School lecturer Jill Avery explained that people naturally tend to think of themselves as underdogs, even when they “’rationally shouldn’t.’” She cited that, in a recent study, most HBS students perceived themselves to be underdogs, despite the fact that they attend a top-tier graduate school and are working toward high-paying careers. People who think they are underdogs are attracted to other underdogs, Avery argues, explaining why so many ads feature the underdog archetype. This phenomenon is likely also what draws such large fan bases to reality TV competitions. Indeed, two of my own all-time favorite American Idol contestants, season 7’s Syesha Mercado and season 11’s Hollie Cavanagh, used to hold the record for most number of weeks among the bottom two or three vote-getters.

In Part I of this series, I wrote about how television can be educational, citing benefits for language learning. Though reality TV competitions are hardly the first shows that come to mind when you think of educational programming, I believe some of the better ones do have educational value. For example, So You Think You Can Dance instilled in me an appreciation for the history and technique of dance, while also teaching me the names of different styles. Gordon Ramsay, renowned chef and judge on MasterChef, certainly helped me increase my food literacy, and his technique for making scrambled eggs—one he regularly asks contestants to replicate—is still my go-to recipe (pro tip: add crème fraîche in the last 5 minutes of cooking for a softer texture). I only wish I had paid more attention to America’s Next Top Model back when I watched it—my smize isn’t very good.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUP7U5vTMM0

Gordan Ramsay’s scrambled eggs recipe

Additionally, reality TV competitions can also be platforms for meaningful social change. I’ve never really been into dating shows like The Bachelor, but this summer a friend convinced me to watch MTV’s Are You The One? The premise is that a group of contestants are sent off to an island, where they have two months to find their “perfect match,” the other contestant with whom matchmakers have determined they are most romantically compatible. If they’re successful, the contestants win not only love, but also one million dollars to split. This season’s twist is that the entire cast is bisexual, so men are not necessarily paired with women as perfect matches. This is important because it provides visibility to a community that is often overlooked and misunderstood. It gives a voice for contestants to talk about experiences that are rarely portrayed on television. The reality nature of the show means viewers get to see the contestants’ triumphs and mistakes in a (more-or-less) unscripted and genuine manner. Of note, the show also provides numerous resources on its website, both for people struggling with their sexuality and for those who want to be better allies to the LGBTQ+ community.

The show has played a big role in changing my own perceptions of gender and sexuality. I was explaining the show to a friend a few weeks ago when she asked me whether the contestants were mainly forming same-gender or different-gender relationships. I realized I had a hard time answering her question because, after a few episodes, I stopped actively paying attention to the characters’ genders. The show emphasizes human connection at its forefront and that’s become what I care most about week-to-week, too. Of course, the show has plenty of flaws—not the least of which is the validity of its match-making algorithms—but I believe it serves as a compelling example of reality TV’s better side.

The season 8 cast of Are You The One? Image found here.

I would be remiss, though, if I didn’t explain some of the general negative trends in reality TV competitions. For one, I remember an educator talking to us in middle school about how the format of voting a contestant “off the island” on shows such as the archetypal reality competition Survivor can promote bullying behavior among adolescents. Moreover, while elimination is a necessary element of most competitions, reality TV exacerbates contestant stress, between aggressive remarks from judges and dramatic pauses or commercial breaks before announcing results. This sometimes leaves me wondering whether contestants are actually getting to learn and grow, or whether they’d benefit from a more nurturing environment. Though reality TV often relies on principles of psychology, it’s also important to recognize that it is not subject to the same strict ethical guidelines that actual psychologists obey. As a result, some shows ask contestants to perform terrible, unethical tasks, some of which are even modeled after infamous psychology experiments.

As with all media, reality TV competitions can be fascinating, educational, and socially conscious, but they can also be addictive, unnecessarily cruel, and even outright unethical. Recognizing this dichotomy has been an important step in finding shows that espouse values important to me—guilty pleasure watches that I don’t have to feel as guilty about.