Before reality TV became a steppingstone for burgeoning influencers, TikTok followers, and brand deals, it was something else entirely. Cast your mind back to the early 2010s. You flip through the channels; you see middle-aged women throwing tables during a dinner party, a group of New Jersey Italians teasing their hair and going to a club (which, for the record, looks way cooler than any club you’ve ever been to!), or even a mean dance teacher yelling at her students while their mothers sit idly by. The options seem to be endless. Fast-forward to today. You turn on your preferred streaming service, and aside from a few exceptions, the luxury of choice has disappeared. It has become crystal clear that the golden age of reality television has come and gone. But why?
There is no series that showcases this phenomenon quite as heavily as Vanderpump Rules. The show initially existed as a spinoff of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and it chronicles star Lisa Vanderpump’s restaurant, SUR, and her employees – a gang of 20-something, sexy misfits trying to make it big in Hollywood. While the show itself lasted about a decade (11 seasons, 2013 – 2024), it encapsulated several different versions of society. It starts almost as a time capsule of Obama-era “millennial optimism,” and through the rise of social media, a variety of questionable fashion trends, and an even more questionable presidential run, we see the show reach its final form: a bleak, post-COVID exploration of our once-wild cast as they’ve traded their coke for benzos and their wild city existence for quiet suburbia. Although this is a natural progression for most, it feels deeply wrong for this group. This is not due to age itself (Real Housewives fans, anyone?) but social media. The once-carefree group of frenemies, who would do and say whatever (and do whoever) they wanted, has now become hyper-aware of their image.
This is true of reality TV as a whole nowadays. The fourth wall has broken, and not in a fun way. If a show lasts long enough, the characters either begin to become parodies of themselves, desperate to create “good TV” and relive their long-gone glory days, or they become so focused on being liked that they align themselves with castmates and storylines they believe will catapult their screen time or please their fanbase – both of which come across just as inauthentic as they sound.
Before social media, reality TV existed as a microcosm. There were those in the know, and there was the rest of the world. When a show wrapped filming, participants simply returned to their lives. Sure, they might get recognized once in a while and have a few extra “0”s added to their monthly paycheck, but they returned to relative anonymity. Today, that is not the case. Say a reality star says something mildly offensive. Fifteen years ago, that social blunder would be forgotten in time for the next scandal. Now, that clip will go viral across platforms and likely become a permanent stain on their career. After all, the internet has a much better memory than the average viewer.
One of the great joys of reality TV is the quintessential villain. In order to make an ensemble truly excellent, there needs to be someone who unites the audience. No matter which “it girl” you prefer or which couple you “ship,” there is always one thing everybody can agree on: the character you love to hate. Once upon a time, there was a willingness to take on this role. People such as Lisa Rinna or Jax Taylor are considered some of the “reality TV greats” because they didn’t mind being messy. However, as social media became more prevalent, the general consensus changed. Messiness was no longer rewarded; it was ridiculed. From a moral perspective, this is likely a positive thing. From an entertainment perspective, however, it is not.
This shift is both undeniable and irreversible. The appeal of “trash TV” – raw, unpredictable, and messy human interactions – has been replaced by a much more calculated and risk-averse counterpart. We are left only with nostalgia and (thankfully) endless rewatches of our favorite shows: a reminder of an era when television was truly fun.