We just can’t look away

MAFS, Survivor and Real Housewives have us hooked. But what makes these shows so addictive? Hannah Vanderheide lifts the lid.

Whether it’s the champagne-fuelled chaos of Married at First Sight (MAFS), the mascara-streaked meltdowns of The Bachelor, or the Real Housewives flipping tables like Olympic athletes, most of us can’t seem to look away from reality television – no matter how messy it gets.

Almost all of us (92 per cent of Aussies, to be precise) have, at some stage, tuned in, and who could blame us when we do it so well? Most shows commissioned here are ‘unscripted’ and despite many originating overseas, the Aussie touch often makes them better. Our version of MasterChef takes the global ratings cake, and we’re ready to chuck our drink at anyone who suggests Australian Survivor wouldn’t outwit and outlast the original US series.

It seems we relish watching strangers get blindsided or dumped or, occasionally, find love (at least until the social media sponsorships kick in). And while there’s no doubt we’re all here for different reasons, some of them might be hard to admit.

Emily, a Sydney-based lawyer, loves how removed reality programs are from her often stressful work life. “My job requires analysing the worst things that happen to people,” she shares, so for her, reality TV is “low-stress TV for when my brain is absolutely cooked”. According to Associate Professor Lauren Rosewarne, a pop culture expert from Melbourne University, this kind of escapism is a key draw. She describes it as “distracting ourselves from our own issues by immersing in someone else’s”. And with our collective battery flashing red, it’s no wonder we’re seeking easy viewing.

For super-fan Casey from Melbourne, the draw is voyeurism or, as Rosewarne puts it, “Peeking at the lives and dramas of others, without getting mixed up in it.” And really, who could turn down a backstage pass into the unattainable lives of the social elite? Especially when they turn into a bit of a train wreck.

That’s what it’s about for Perth teacher, Samia, who admits watching MAFS makes her feel good about her own life. It’s what Rosewarne describes as ‘schadenfreude’: “Feeling better about yourself by watching the misfortune of others.”

It seems we relish watching strangers get blindsided or dumped or, occasionally, find love.
But Samia’s MAFS obsession has cultural roots, too. “I’m intrigued by the experiment because arranged marriage does work in our South Asian culture,” she says. This dimension of reality TV is often ignored – the chance to look at relationships, cultural practices and human behaviour, then discuss the issues raised with others in our social circles. And with recent controversy over an alleged wall-punching incident on MAFS, these are often conversations that need to be had.

Despite its obvious anthropological offerings, this genre of television still gets dismissed as frivolous. “You cannot discuss this with professional men,” says Emily, who’s had male lawyers in her office judge her viewing choices. “One barrister chastised me for watching Bake Off instead of sport.”

MAFS is the show that just keeps on giving. Image: Supplied
Jessica Ford, a media lecturer at the University of Adelaide, recently told research-based news and analysis platform, The Conversation, “It’s usually media aimed at women which ends up being labelled as ‘trashy’ or a ‘guilty pleasure’. Reality TV’s perceived lack of cultural value reflects a long history of classed, raced and gendered taste cultures.” These deeply biased assumptions should be voted off the island. Reality TV is modern mythology, anthropology and social lubricant, all rolled into one poorly lit, 45-minute confessional.

At the very least, there’s comfort knowing that no matter how chaotic life gets, at least you’re not thinly veiling disgust in a chocolate bathtub on national television (forever grateful, Richie Strahan). And besides, if watching people throw drinks at each other is wrong, do we really want to be right?