Reality TV’s Insatiable Problem
“Schadenfreude noun. A feeling of pleasure or satisfaction when something bad happens to someone else.” Cambridge Dictionary 2026.
As the autumn leaves arrived on September 4th, I indulged my addictions and cosied up with a steaming mug of tea, readying my brain to enter peaceful passivity. Earle Meets World, finally! The four-day break between Love Is BlindUK’s reunion and Earle’s premiere episode was just long enough to hit the bliss point. Like salt-and-vinegar crisps, I fell into a dopamine trap. My summer of love had ended, but Autumn brought colder weather and a new season of celebreality docu-soap. I love reality TV. I love turning my brain off. I love wallowing in gossip, keeping my real problems at a wonderful distance. Meditation, from my sofa.
“I could never do reality-TV”, I smile superiorly.
I watched Hulu’s latest attempt to reinvent reality’s royal family. Keeping Up with the Kardashians, the biblical genesis of the docu-style show. The untouchable god of entertainment economies, Kim Kardashian has arguably pioneered the creator economy boom to be worth $310 billion. Goldman Sachsproject that by 2030, this number will rise to over $1 trillion. Economic wealth is now created by its siblings – social and cultural capital. Money is best made when other people get to decide who you are.
The show introduces itself by being refreshingly honest. Alix’s eight familial co-stars take an obvious whack at being 2026’s perfectly dysfunctional blended family. Kris Jenner transforms into Thomas “TJ” Earle. The momager gender-switches as TJ managers Alix and her sister. Similarly, TJ too has been at the centre of his own marital drama. This makes Earle’s show stand out in a problematically intoxicating way. There is something about real-life scandal that makes good reality television. As a self-proclaimed “Bravoholic”, I sit unsatisfied knowing I’ll never know the truth behind Kyle Richards and LisaVanderpump’s breakup. Tom Sandoval’s 2023 affair with Vanderpump Rules co-star was revealed through chronological press releases – an explosive scandal injected with media-trained lorazepam. But… Robert had OJ Simpson, Kris hadTodd Waterman and TJ, well, he has Ashley Dupre.
Ashley Dupre reached y2k fame for her role as “Kristin” in the Eliot Spitzerprostitution scandal, leading to the resignation of Spitzer as Governor of NewYork and Lily Van der Woodsen’s iconic line from Gossip Girl: “When you revise the seating chart, don’t forget to place Mr Spitzer as far away from Serena’s table as possible”. Marrying TJ in 2013, Ashley reprised her Lilith role, having started their relationship whilst he was still married to Alix’s mother, Alisa. How deliciously scandalous!
I got to play detective and enjoy some real emotion. I know what’s erupted within this family because I can just google it. The Roman gladiator games were insatiable because these bread and circuses were all factually documented.
Stuffed in synergistically was shameless self-promotion. Ghosts of Kardashiansre-appear through plugs for “Reale Actives”, Alix’s skincare line. The launch was filmed in the final episode, reminding me of Kylie Cosmetics’ first on-air launch. The script was the same, documenting sold-out traffic and bloated monologues of how successful and incredible Alix was. Of course, Alix’s appearance on Dancing With the Stars was mentioned. Cross-promotion and proof of cultural relevance = perfect television.
Perhaps my excitement for Earle’s new show was motivated by my disappointment with the summertime’s praise for misogyny. Love Island’s Lorenzo Alessi was able to evade serious allegations of sexism because he was“just Lorenzo”. Dating became strategic and transactional as Alessi’s golden retriever aesthetic framed locker-room patriarchy as entertainment. “No coffee before love” masked emotional unavailability. I couldn’t help but wonder… If Simba Kudyiwa said his ideal woman would “have skinny arms”, might he have been propagated like Alessi?
Deep-rooted sexism is a given with reality TV. Gloria Steinem – whose death at 92 was sadly announced last week – cited and embraced female rage as the most important catalyst for igniting social change. However, for the entertainment industry, female anger is a commodified tool for engagement. Love Island’sLorenzo continuously left his partner, Julia Mayska, alone in her conflict with the other female islanders, encouraging it as both deflection and omniscient knowing that it would guarantee his season views.
Switching between channels, Netflix in late August one-upped couple status with marriage. Let’s Marry Harry premiered. The personal wasn’t political, but entertainment. 22 women became disposable objects, reverted to their historical social value, being a wife. Production companies know that the devaluing of female friendship makes money, subsequently pitting the array of successful women against each other. This reminded me of the second-wavefeminism movement, and how the “scarcity culture” concept treated the ultimate space (Harry’s wife) as a limited position for only the most elite woman. Amber Mozo, the winner of Harry, brought her subsequent rage to the reunion episode. Lied to, cheated on, and made to hide, a year’s worth of scandal unfolded in the reunion episode. We watched how Amber was abused by Harry and production “for good TV” (Let’s Marry Harry The Reunion), whilst munching on dinner and checking Twitter to make sure our opinions aligned with the rest of the world.
Alex Cooper, founder of the infamous Call Her Daddy podcast and coincidental producer on Let’s Marry Harry, appeared in Episode 7, giving the title man advice on how to “treat” the two fiancée finalists. Cooper also vaguely appeared in Earle’s new show, yet this time was painted as a villain rather than a hero. The two women have been publicly feuding since 2025, when Cooper allegedly mistreated the seeming heir to her podcast empire. As a listener of Cooper’s and a watcher of Earle’s, I found myself at a crossroads – Alix vs Alex, whose side am I on? I remembered Steinem. Just like Let’s Marry Harry, Earle Meets World relied on ‘one woman syndrome’. Alix and Alex can’t both just be successes; as women,they must transform into character archetypes and only one can come out on top.
Sipping the dregs of my tea, eyes glued to my new show, I thought back to the Kardashians. Jordan vs Khloe (S16); Kim vs Kourtney (S18); the entire female clan vs Blac Chyna (S12). The reality behind these rifts is anything but petty spectacle. Today, Love Island UK garners attention annually from organisations such as Women’s Aid. Red pill content, as proved by Theroux’s Inside the Manosphere, is more normalised than ever in short-form online content. ‘Alessis’and ‘Jowseys’ rebrand traditional toxicity through game-tactics and in this sense, Earle Meets World does the same.
Alix’s show revolves around two main plot lines – the “blonde vs blonde” trope and the protagonist’s recent breakup. An outdated gender trope, the show and family verge on shaming Alix for her decision to leave a seemingly perfect relationship with the perfect man, Braxton Berrios. Ashtin Earle, the second-oldest sibling, is a standout anomaly with refreshingly grounded confidence in her singlehood. However, the show, ruled by mainstream status quo, colouredAshtin’s storyline with anxious blind dates and family pressure to find a man. I could dive deeper into the internalized misogyny beneath Ashley’s admission that “men wouldn’t stop cheating on her”, prompting her decision to be the woman cheated with. I prefer to think men aren’t inherently unfaithful, but perhaps I’m an optimist.
“You’re gonna see everything on this show”, I was assured in the opening voiceover. My only real conclusion boils down to three clear points. Men continue to be ubiquitous storylines. Reality can’t work without female rage. Entertainment has become a “carrot and stick” when viewers can’t be satisfied if life appears “too” happy.
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