The Reality Television Machine

Ian Smalley
CCTP-669: Cultural Politics of Television

Reality television as a genre has grown exponentially since it first gained

popularity in the 1990s with shows like MTV’s “The Real World”. Through the years

scores of shows have come and gone, mere blips on the overall pop culture radar. There

are many reasons to explain the popularity and growth of this genre; voyeuristic interest,

economic feasibility, its dumbed-down, easy to watch nature, the possibility of fame that

it teases up within the viewer - but one thing that many people don’t recognize is the

negative cultural effects that reality television is having on our nation. At its core, reality

TV is a machine drawing from an endless pool of anxious and eager talent, exploiting

these zealous competitors and subjects, and casting them aside when it is done. At a

deeper level the genre perpetuates a multitude of deleterious social ideals that permeate

throughout our society. Reality TV programming maintains an emphasis on physical

beauty, reinforces class stratification, encourages change through material consumption,

and downplays the serious risks involved with surgeries on makeover programs. Since it

is often conceived as a light, non-serious, and fun type of programming, people will miss

the myriad ways that reality TV is reinforcing negative stereotypes and ideals that are

imbedded within our culture.

There is no doubt that typical conventions of beauty are considered of utmost

importance within American culture. This fixation upon physical appearance is

constantly reinforced in the media, both in scripted and reality programming, but one

type of show places a particularly strong emphasis on beauty: the makeover show. These

reality shows take scrubby, overweight, unattractive, and otherwise socially undesirable

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subjects and transform them through the wonders of new clothes, hair, make-up, and in

extreme cases, surgeries. On the surface this may seem like a Good Samaritan-esque

flourish of charity on the part of the reality programmers, but in reality they are merely

perpetuating the negative societal stereotypes of beauty that have infested our set of

cultural norms and made this type of program necessary.

Americans often see beauty as the key to unlock all of life’s doors. Those who

are physically attractive seem to garner more respect, become more successful, and

generally live better lives. “Culture also links beauty to happiness and fulfillment, and

unattractiveness is sometimes seen as an obstacle to realizing one’s potential” (Meltzer

2). These morally sickening, yet socially accepted ideals, are hardly even questioned any

more. We are constantly inundated with images of beautiful and successful celebrities,

and as we unconsciously link their wealth and success with their physical attractiveness it

becomes imbedded into out national psyche. Reality programming is perpetuating these

stereotypes, and pushing them past the select upper echelon of celebrity, and onto the

common person. As a result, “the natural and being a regular-looking person are

devalued, and looking like a celebrity is prized above all else” (Meltzer 18).

If you take a step back and examine the notion that an unattractive person will

inherently be unhappy and unable to fully realize their potential, it is both preposterous

and dangerously inaccurate. Yet reality programming, and makeover shows especially,

choose to sustain and bolster this ideal by convincing viewers that the “makeover” is the

way to change their life and make them a better worker, a more desirable mate, and an all

around happier and more productive person. They offer up absurd rationalizations,

among them “the portrayal of candidates as good people who are unlucky in the looks

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department, the need for reconciliation of the discrepancy between candidates’ inner

selves and physical appearances, and as part of this, that outer changes can actually

change the inner self too” (Meltzer 11). Using these justifications they suggest that these

people will only find true happiness and fulfillment by acquiescing to society’s traditional

picture of beauty, and that a change in their appearance is the only way to fully realize

their potential. There are deep underlying societal problems regarding the importance

and perception of beauty that need to be thoroughly addressed in our culture, and

unfortunately it is these exact societal norms that both drive the creation of these shows,

and are perpetuated by their existence.

On a more physical level of negative effects, the depiction of the cosmetic

surgeries performed on makeover shows like “Extreme Makeover” can be misleading and

downplay the serious risks associated with the procedures. Any show that uses cosmetic

surgery as a makeover tactic to improve someone’s life is obligated to mention the risks

inherent in the surgery, but “these come in the form of a mention that is quickly glossed

over and pales in emphasis in comparison to the glorification of the results of the

surgery” (Meltzer 15). Although the surgeries can be dangerous, long, and complicated,

and the recovery time even longer, and extremely painful, the shows often choose to

show only brief shots of the procedures and recovery periods. They instead choose to

show the final product, albeit a product that took a great deal of pain and months to

produce. By emphasizing the final results and skimming over the emotionally and

physically painful process that precedes that final product they are misrepresenting the

whole procedure, and making it seem a lot easier than it actually is. The use of cosmetic

surgery to alter one’s appearance is a serious decision, and these shows’ treatment of the

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procedures belies the significant risks and consequences that need to be thoroughly

analyzed and explained.

Another of the negative effects that reality television engenders is a reinforcing of

class stratification. Looking again at “Extreme Makeover” we can see that most of the

candidates are white, female, and working class. Left to their own devices it is unlikely

that they would be able to afford the expensive cosmetic surgeries used to complete their

makeovers. Cosmetic surgery is regarded as a private activity, and the best surgical work

leaves the patient looking better while remaining unnoticeable to most people.

Celebrities often slip clandestinely in and out of cosmetic surgery clinics, hiding in their

mansions until all the swelling and pain have subsided, finally emerging fresh-faced and

looking better. It could be said that “it is the privilege of the affluent to undergo surgery

in private without others knowing until the final product is ready to be revealed” (Meltzer

8). The subjects of “Extreme Makeover”, because of their lower class status are not

afforded these rights of privacy and forced to undergo the painfully intimate procedures

on national television if they want them at all. By forcing the subjects to go through the

surgeries in front of the world these reality makeover programs are fortifying and

strengthening class stratification; consciously delineating between those of the higher

class who are fortunate and wealthy enough to be granted privacy and those of the lower

classes who must suffer through the indignities of being sliced open and recovering on

national television in order to have any chance of having the procedures done.

Male participants are not free from the reinforcements of class structure in reality

television either. On “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” the subjects are “men, usually

young and lower-middle class, who have failed to produce an adult self able to function

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in the world of heterosexual romance” (Sender 140). These men are usually schlubby,

slovenly, with poor hygiene and cheap living conditions. All these physical and material

characteristics contribute towards their perception of low-class individuals. The Fab Five

(the show’s cultural experts) parade into the subject’s life and proceed to tear apart

everything about his appearance and life. The sense of shame that is imparted upon the

participant is done so with a conscious effort. Sender suggests that “shame is feeling bad

about who one is, with an attendant anxiety about rejection as a whole person” (Sender

143). By fostering these feelings within the subject, the show is mobilizing class shame

in order to spur upward class mobility. Felski, quoted in Sender’s (2006) article “Queens

for a Day: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and the Neoliberal Project” posits that lower

classes have always been “driven by the fear of shame, tortured by a constant struggle to

keep up appearance on a low income” (143). Ostensibly the Fab Five’s mission is to help

the man out, but by belittling him and his possessions they are evoking that sense of class

shame, and situating him and people like him, securely within the lower tier of class

structure.

It is interesting to note that one of the main factors that reality shows employ to

prompt upward class mobility within its participants is an increase in consumption. This

idea of consumption as being of paramount importance in facilitating positive change is

another negative cultural ideal that reality television sustains. All the way back in 1899,

Thorstein Verblen, in his seminal work The Theory of the Leisure Class, identified the

idea of conspicuous consumption as a signifier of class. Indeed, “the utility of

consumption as an evidence of wealth” remains as prevalent of a social norm as it was

over a century ago (Verblen 69). In order to exhibit one’s class and social status the

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conspicuous consumption of specific goods (those identified as part of the upper-class

canon) necessarily situates the individual within the upper class; his consumption being

an indicator of his wealth. Conversely, “the failure to consume in due quantity and

quality becomes a mark of inferiority and demerit” (Verblen 74). On shows like “Queer

Eye” the subjects are mocked for their home décor and possessions. Their failure to

properly consume is a mark of inferiority in the eyes of the hosts and viewing public.

Suggesting that buying new clothes and better furnishings will improve their

lives, “Queer Eye trains its candidates in a life of responsible and fulfilling citizenship

through consumption” (Sender 137). According to this culture of consumption that

reality TV promotes, the key to becoming a better person is not surrounding yourself with

good people, or changing bad habits, and trying harder in life, but rather throwing out that

old ratty couch and buying a new living room set from the one of the ubiquitous product

placements incorporated into the show. Shows like “Queer Eye” postulate that the

consumption of new possessions will make the subjects more efficient workers, better

family members, more marriageable, and all around better parts of society. This idea of

upward social mobility through consumption is an injurious one because it places a

dangerous emphasis on the acquisition of goods. We are a society obsessed with material

objects, and reality television is feeding this unhealthy addiction. By identifying and

accentuating class differences that are apparently only changeable through consumption,

reality television is reinforcing pernicious social norms under the guise of helping the

subjects “realize their potential”.

To change gears for a moment, and step back from the cultural norms rhetoric,

there is also the issue of the way that reality television treats its so-called “stars”. The

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reality TV genre is basically one giant media market machine, rolling along, scooping up

its “stars” from an unending pool of awaiting talent, sucking them dry of their relative

worth to the show and discarding them on the side of the road. “[R]eality TV’s promise

to democratize celebrity” is definitely one of the reasons that it has become so popular

(Collins 88). The traditional highly stratified celebrity hierarchy is extremely selective,

and very few ever get to enjoy fame. Reality television, through its constant cycling of

casts and sheer number of shows, offers a way for normal people to enjoy a fleeting

moment of the fame that they crave. Unfortunately they are being exploited for profit by

the studios that run the shows and cast aside when they can no longer bring something to

the table.

With reality programming studios are able to take less of a risk and cut down on

expenses when creating a show. Instead of paying an established star millions of dollars

to appear in a highly expensive and overproduced scripted series, they can pick any Joe

off the street and try and turn them into what Sue Collins calls a “dispensable celebrity”.

Dispensable celebrities are a category that “generates novelty out of audience self-

reflexivity with minimal risk and temporal flexibility” (Collins 89). Viewers like to see

people like themselves on television, because they can see themselves in a similar

situation, and if the character doesn’t pan out it won’t cost the studio much since they

were cheap labor in the first place. Indeed, “the field for ordinary, untalented people

vying for potential fame is virtually inexhaustible, and the production of short-term,

nonskilled, nonunion celebrity generates novelty with minimal financial risk and greater

control” (Collins 97).

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 The promise of celebrity keeps the masses knocking at the doors for auditions,

and no matter how many cautionary tales they see on E! or in the tabloids, they will

continue to crave that fame. Unfortunately for the few reality stars that do enjoy some

level of celebrity it is fleeting at most. Despite their tenacious efforts to hold onto that

fame at any cost, “most of these reality vets find that in the sixteenth minute, they are not

absorbed into the celebrity system; rather, their celebrity currency runs out and they are

channeled back into obscurity” (Collins 88). Try as they might, it is the same quality that

got them on the reality program – the fact they are not a “real” actor, and can represent

the public as a whole – that prevents them from ever ascending into the upper echelons of

celebrity stratification. Once their relative novelty has been tapped and drained by the

reality television machine they are no longer useful and are cast aside like refuse.

Even more frightening than the trail of discarded reality stars that the genre leaves

in its wake is the way that they can control the very select few who last beyond their

fifteenth minute. Due to the stringent contracts that most participants have to sign before

being allowed on the shows, any possible profit that can come from their resulting fame

is controlled by the studios. Debora Halbert, in Collins’ article “Making the Most out of

15 Minutes: Reality TV’s Dispensable Celebrity”, explains the level of control that CBS

has over contractually obligated contestants, even after they get off the show:

Essentially, CBS controls their ability to appear in public and in what

type of venue, their ability to talk about the show, and their life stories.

CBS owns their public identities and the rights to disclose their private

identities. CBS owns the telling of the experiences that made them

who they are. Everything a Survivor cast member could communicate

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 to the public might be construed as the property of CBS. Additionally,

CBS owns these rights throughout the universe forever. (Collins 98)

The amount of control the studios have is chilling, almost as if they are puppet-

masters, controlling the every move of the marionettes that they’ve created and made

famous. The show American Idol has a similar situation. Any contestant who makes it

down to the final few competitors is only allowed to sign a record contract with the

record label that the studio who runs the show owns. Despite the fact that they were

forced to sign, most artist’s records are simply shelved in order to place more media

attention on the eventual winner. They are also required to tour as a collective American

Idol show, and must complete a number of contractual stipulations before they are ever

allowed to break out and try and make it on their own.

Although the reality television genre is generally perceived as a light and fun type

of programming there are serious negative cultural forces at work that simmer beneath

the surface. Reality TV perpetuates a number of detrimental cultural norms that permeate

throughout our society. The American obsession with beauty is particularly personified

in the makeover show subgenre of reality TV. These shows suggest that beauty is the

key to happiness, and that unattractive people are inherently limited in their ability to

realize their true potential. We are a culture that is obsessed with physical appearance,

and these often cruel and dangerous social ideals are reinforced in this type of reality

programming. By convincing people that they can only achieve happiness through an

overhaul of their appearance the shows are strengthening injurious ideals about the

importance of beauty. These shows also downplay the serious medical risks that

accompany the surgical procedures performed. By glossing over the risky procedures

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and painful recoveries to emphasize the glamorous final product they are misrepresenting

the many hazards that can result from the surgeries.

Reality programming also reinforces class stratification. The subjects of most

makeover shows are lower class people who can often not afford the medical procedures,

wardrobe overhauls, or living arrangement makeovers on their own. Whereas wealthy

people are allowed privacy when going through makeover procedures, the lower class

subjects are forced to undergo embarrassing surgeries and makeovers on camera because

they cannot afford it on their own. In this way class lines are delineated and made

obvious. Class shame is mobilized and used to push the subjects towards upward class

mobility. To facilitate this upward class mobility reality programming preaches the word

of consumption. Conspicuous consumption has always been a signifier of class status,

and these shows promote the notion that the only way to move up in class and become a

better person is to purchase material objects. In a society already obsessed with material

possessions these shows perpetuate the negative ideal that happiness must be bought.

Finally, at its core, reality television is a heartless genre that exploits people under

the guise of offering the possibility of fame. The democratization of fame is a tantalizing

prospect that brings people flocking to auditions, hoping to become the next reality star.

In reality these people are nothing more than fodder for new shows; and inexhaustible

pool of talent that will be used and hurled to the side to fall back into obscurity. Reality

television isn’t trying to democratize fame; it is just capitalizing on the cheap labor that

practically begs to be exploited. They are more than happy to churn through the eagerly

awaiting talent like a kiln hungrily awaiting more fuel, and when they do find someone

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who enjoys a good deal of success through their reality stint they ensure that they can

control every aspect of that contestant’s post-show fame.

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 Works Cited

Collins, Sue. "Making the Most out of 15 Minutes: Reality TV's Dispensable Celebrity."

Television and New Media 9.2 (2008): 87-110.

Katherine, Sender. "Queens for a Day: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and the Neoliberal

Project." Critical Studies in Media Communication 23.2 (2006): 131-151.

Meltzer, Kimberly. "From the Outside In: The Rhetoric of Reality TV Extreme

Makeovers."

Veblen, Thorstein. The Theory of the Leisure Class. New York: Reprints of Economic

Classics, 1899.

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