The Chris Coelen Extended Universe
This man has a lot to answer for
At the beginning of the Netflix dating show The Ultimatum we learn that hosts Nick and Vanessa Lachey took a monthlong break in dating after Vanessa gave Nick and ultimatum: they get married or they break up. They spent that month dating other people, giving Nick the space to come to the revelation that he did indeed want to marry Vanessa. He rushed back to her side and popped the question. They have been married since 2011 and have made that marriage the foundation for their careers as dating show hosts for such dubious creations as Love is Blind and The Ultimatum. The premise of The Ultimatum supposedly stems from this incident in their lives; the logic that this experience will translate if applied to other couples may not be strong, but the drama it creates is eminently bankable and impossible to ignore, like a bad car wreck.
The Lacheys also host Love is Blind, although there doesn’t appear to be any corresponding origin story for that show’s conceit. Singles are segregated from each other behind glowing blue walls and can talk to each other, but cannot meet until one of them proposes. This is somehow supposed to remove the confounding issues of both personal attraction and racism. So far, no one has made it to the engagement round on the show that isn’t conventionally attractive and there have been vanishingly few interracial couples, yet Love is Blind marches on, spouting pseudo-psych platitudes that remind one ever so much of being cornered by tipsy young men at grad school parties.
Both of these shows feature the Lacheys as hosts, but their involvement in both series feels increasingly unnecessary. They are barely there these days, merely popping up to give us prologue and epilogue. The person who really ties the vibe of these shows together is neither Nick nor Vanessa. It’s Chris. Longtime industry regular Chris Coelen produces both shows, along with two other Netflix chaos monsters: Perfect Match and Married at First Sight. The latter is the longest running of the four; there are currently 16 seasons of it. Its premise is pretty self-explanatory. Couples are matched up and meet at the altar, then we follow them to see if the marriage works (it doesn’t). I don’t know what inspired Coelen to subject people to these relationship-related tortures, but they’re wildly popular and likely to only multiply as Netflix and other streaming services lean more heavily on unscripted series.
I’m not exactly hiding my hand here. From my tone, I assume you’ve now inferred I don’t like this kind of television. I’ve watched many seasons of it, often sort of compulsively, but I always leave a season feeling a bit gross. Last summer, I wrote a similar post, in which I looked at reality television as a whole but through a more positive lens. I mentioned Love is Blind, but have been itching to say more about why it and its sister shows bother me so much. I’ll narrow it down to three main things: these shows exploit human weakness, take advantage of vulnerable people, and are incredibly cynical about love.
No season of either show exemplifies these so much as season five of Love is Blind, which premiered last Friday on Netflix and will drop new horrors this Friday. The show relies on the premise that you can find approximately ten human beings in a given metropolitan area who are willing to get engaged sight unseen in about a week, a truly insane thing to do. Over the seasons it has been clear that psychological manipulation is necessary to get people to that place. That manipulation has only become more pronounced over the seasons, to the point where Netflix is currently being sued over this show by one of its former contestants, who alleged that contestants are plied with far too much alcohol, denied sufficient water and food, and underpaid (and threatened with heavy financial penalties should they leave the show). Nick Hartwell, the contestant, claims he was sleep deprived as well, which rings true. In the background of most shots of the men’s and women’s common room are people who look thoroughly exhausted, many of them napping on the couches and floor. Contestants slur their words, react emotionally, and trauma bond with their companions. It’s a perfect recipe for bad decisions.
Very few people could get through sleep deprivation, heightened emotional circumstances, and the pressure to drink heavily without making some out of character choices, but I suspect there’s also a lack of scruples on the part of the contestant selection committee in terms of who makes it to the show. Every season there are multiple contestants who have clear emotional issues and although the series claims to provide therapeutic care, it also places vulnerable people in stressful situations in order to capitalize on their breakdowns. The incentives are clear: the more emotionally fragile the characters are, the more likely they are to cause drama, which is the lifeblood of the show. No one comes to the show looking for emotionally mature adults with no issues marrying similarly stable partners and living happily ever after. We’re here for the freakshow, whether we admit it or not. There are no unions for reality show contestants; sometimes criticism of a show’s practices leads to voluntary internal change (on Love Island, for instance), but there’s no one requiring those changes to happen. A similar lawsuit is apparently coming to Bravo alleging similar issues, but how successful they will be is hard to predict. It would take a strike, I think, but it’s hard to organize such a disparate and peripatetic group. It seems far more likely to me that it will take a viewers’ strike to affect real change, which feels impossible to imagine. For all my criticism, even I haven’t stopped watching.
The two issues outlined above would be enough, in my mind, to disrupt one’s enjoyment of these shows. But what do these shows actually think about human love? Does Chris Coelen and his cohort believe in soulmates? Clearly, no. Do they believe in couples therapy? Also clearly, no. Do they believe that a healthy relationship is based on deep and carefully built understanding between two people? Fuck no. What they seem to believe is that love blossoms from enforced proximity, trauma, and tunnel vision. Love comes from virtual solitary confinement with another person. There are no other people to interact with in these shows, no activities, no jobs. For the majority of the bonding time, potential couples have no choice but to focus solely on each other. Is this really the vision of healthy life partnership we as a society want to endorse? It bears far more in common with the arranged marriages of yesteryear (especially in Marriage at First Sight, which is literally that). Have we really come so far as to give women the ability to vote, work, and freely choose their sexual and romantic partners only to circle back around to the antiquated belief that an arranged marriage holds their best hope of future happiness?
Reality television has exploded in the last ten years. The pandemic was fertile ground for its blossoming and the ongoing strike means new reality television is likely to be the primary vehicle for new entertainment. It’s indeed a buzzkill move to ask everyone to think critically about their trashy guilty pleasure watches, but I think we’re in a moment where the ethical implications are becoming too bright to ignore. That’s not to say that contestants aren’t capable of choice, but what level of circumstantial pressures on those choices are we willing to accept before we acknowledge these are choices being made under duress? How cynical do our dating shows have to get before we decide that’s not actually the romantic values we want to celebrate? These series are fast becoming 21st century freak shows; it’s time we all tune out.