Reality TV subverts comfortable narratives

My obsession with reality TV started when I was about 10 years old. Occasionally during Sunday family lunches at my grandmother’s house I would sneak upstairs and watch VH1 reality shows, namely Flavor of Love, Rock of Love and Charm School.  

I adored these shows, not because I bought into the artifice of finding true love on a reality TV show. Rather I loved them for how blatant they were in their depravity. I have a very specific memory of being shocked and awed when on Charm School two drunk women locked a fellow contestant in a bathroom and then shoved hot dogs underneath the door in case she got hungry. Ahh, the innocence of youth.

I followed the VH1 shows with the Real Housewives franchises, reality competition shows of all different types and MTV shows such as The Real World. Although each of these shows operates under a certain veneer — finding the best chef, documenting the lives of the wealthy, strangers living together — they all boil down to same scene: someone getting too drunk and saying something that angers someone else.

The artistry of these shows is how the editors superimpose a narrative on the footage in order for it to fit a cultural paradigm. The constant Italian music and subtle nods to the mafia in The Real Housewives of New Jersey; the constantly-fighting, constantly-drunk woman revealed to be a struggling single mom; the trash-talking villains only to face their comeuppance when they lose; etc.

Of course, many of these tropes are racist and misogynistic: the “Angry Black Woman,” the redeemed sex-worker trope, the asexual Asian nerd, and many more. Reality television (as with all mainstream media) reflects our white supremacist patriarchal society (one of the reasons I tend to automatically dismiss people when they say “reality television is trash” with no further analysis).

And yet I also remember people having conversations on reality television that were absent from other mainstream media. I remember seeing women talk about their abortions and eating disorders, people talk about their experience with AIDS, black people dealing with transracial adoption — things as a child I never saw discussed elsewhere except on reality TV. Sometimes these conversations were presented as exploitative, other times nuanced. Yet they were there. Because reality TV is expected to be depraved, conversations are allowed that the mainstream might deem as too controversial to be aired on other media.

Reality television is marketed on its artifice of authenticity and the consumption of media that is more “real” than other shows. Yet I reject the idea that this voyeuristic instinct is the main reason why reality TV is so compelling to me and others. Most adults understand that reality TV is hardly “reality”; tell-all books and behind-the-scenes revelations ripped off the emperor’s clothes long ago.

Even ignoring the editing process, most reality television shows are predicated on an artificial premise. It is not normal in “real” life for eight strangers to move into a house together in a new city, or for people to choose their soulmate from a selection of 20 contestants in a matter of weeks, and I do not believe most viewers accept these premises as “normal” or “real.”

Instead, reality television is so compelling because it holds up a mirror to society and comfortable narratives. As soon as the designated villain comes on screen, whether or not they have done anything to deserve that role, dramatic music will play, the camera will pan to less-than-friendly looks, and there will often be quick, sharp, jump cuts. Just based on musical cues and the style of cinematography, viewers will know exactly who to root for, who is the villain, who is the crazy one, who is the boring one, etc... hardly an exercise in authenticity. A story is being cobbled together right before our eyes, and it is a fascinating process to watch.

Reality TV lets us see the man behind the curtain, pulling the strings in real time. Authenticity is not being sold; the act of storytelling is. So while Game of Thrones and Breaking Bad are being hailed as the defining television shows of our time, I contend that most reality television shows make more insightful social commentary than either of those shows. Though often railed against as a voyeuristic genre, reality television does not simply present us with contestants and housewives. It turns the camera back on ourselves, laying bare our prejudices and triumphs for all to see.

Emeline Armitage is a junior International Studies major from Cleveland.