Is reality TV in trouble?

Last weekend I had the flu. It wasn’t fun, but it did give me a lot of time to catch up on what I think is one of the most fascinating shows on TV right now: The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, on Bravo. I don’t need to explain this show for you. At this point, the archetype of Bravo Housewife is etched into all of our collective consciousness: the nonsensical drama, the over-the-top outfits and accents, the endless competition for attention and meme-ry. It’s all such delectable trash.

In about two days, I binged an entire season-and-a-half, as well as a three-part reunion special. The show didn’t disappoint (it almost never does), but I finished my marathon viewing session with a big question: How long can this keep going? Not just the Real Housewives, but all of reality TV. Increasingly, it feels like the limits of reality television just don’t exist. There seems to be some new reality show concept every week. Dating while naked. Or being a Mormon TikTok influencer while also becoming a reality star, or making a new reality show that brings old reality show stars together to perform Big Brother-esque vote-’em-out-of-the-house reality TV. There are reality shows about marrying former felons and marrying for greencards. There are reality shows about cooking well, and others about cooking badly. There are reality shows about doctors behaving badly. There’s even a scripted drama about a fake reality show. It came out ten years ago.

But if you look past the sheer abundance of reality TV, there are signs that the entire genre might be in trouble. Former juggernauts that used to dominate the ratings and the culture are now pulling in fractions of their old viewership. Survivor used to get 40 or 50 million viewers a week. Now it averages about four million. The Bachelor franchise? Down to just 3 or 4 million viewers a week as well, a sliver of its ratings peak. And within the industry, reality TV production jobs are dwindling, as networks either move production out of the US to save money, or shorten filming schedules for the same reason. And as TV moves from the world of cable to the world of streaming, new reality shows are just in less demand, as the big streamers would rather take bets on shows that already have a large back catalogue. It’s a totally different equation from the heyday of cable, when networks like TLC had almost limitless screentime to broadcast hours upon hours of new reality TV on the cheap.

I care about this enough that I convened a panel this week on my show to make sense of this looming reality TV crisis. I was joined by Rachel Lindsay, the first Black Bachelorette, and Ryan Bailey, host of the pop culture podcast So Bad It’s Good. They both agreed that the genre may be in trouble. It's oversaturated. It’s harder for any show to really grab hold of the culture these days. And it’s been years since reality TV has created a bona fide star who becomes a household name, like NeNe Leakes.

The genre also seems to be out of good ideas. The latest reality hit, Peacock’s The Traitors, just repackages former reality stars in another tried and true reality conceit: voting people out of the house. And the latest reality disaster proves the genre might have reached a new low: Alec and Hilaria Baldwin’s new show, The Baldwins, tried to humanize the two parents of seven while also currying favor for Alec as he dealt with the aftermath of an involuntary manslaughter trial over his involvement in a fatal shooting on a movie set in 2021. The series premiere was one of the least tasteful things on television I’ve seen in years. And I watch a LOT of television.

There is a world in which the fate of reality TV doesn’t matter at all. But that’s not my world. From its conception, reality TV has always shaken up television. When sitcoms were in a rut, shows like American Idol and Survivor fully changed what people thought TV could do, and reinvented television's relationship with viewers. At its best, reality TV pushes all of television forward and out of the box. And when it fires on all cylinders, it creates moments you could never write into a script. Take the latest season of the Salt Lake City Housewives.

There was a moment about three quarters into this latest season — its fifth — when things took a very serious turn. Housewife Mary Cosby confronted her 18-year-old son, Robert, over his increasingly erratic behavior. Eventually, on camera, Robert confessed his drug use and suicidal thoughts to his mother, while she comfroted him and urged him to enter rehab. The moment was tearful, emotional, and incredibly real. At one point, Robert described his drug use in a most creative way.

“Sometimes I feel like life is like, just chicken unseasoned,” he told Mary. “But when I get high, it’s like adding seasoning.” Seeing these words as text doesn’t do it justice. Onscreen, it was a moment of specific poignancy, made even more visceral by the clunky word choice. You couldn’t help but turn into a puddle of tears watching it happen in real time.

In the reunion for the season, the other housewives thanked Mary and Robert for having the moment, because it helped them have conversations with their own children about drug use and abuse. It was beautiful, healing, unscripted, and real. It’s the kind of moment that makes someone like me hold out hope for reality TV.

Check out this week’s episode if you want to hear more about reality TV’s looming existential crisis. You can also hear me make a pitch for a show that could turn the entire genre around. (It involves toddlers, and maybe Adele.) Write me back with your thoughts on reality TV’s troubles, if you have any. Is it really in crisis? And does it matter if it is? Interested to hear your takes.

Till next week,

Sam

Check out the latest episodes of The Sam Sanders Show here.