I’d argue no other television genre is as simultaneously popular and maligned as Reality TV. At best, Reality TV is considered “lite entertainment” – harmless if uninspired – and at worst, its detractors refer to it as “trash TV.” The genre is blamed for encouraging schadenfreude, the German for delighting in watching another’s humiliation and pain. Little wonder, as Reality TV participants are often subjected to embarrassing games or expected to reveal intimate details on camera for mass entertainment.
So is Reality TV… monstrous?
While Reality TV formats like gameshows and talk shows are not quite as popular any more, both formats retain enormous cultural appeal. In 2024, two films proved that public fascination and anxiety with Reality TV has actually grown. Woman of the Hour (WOTH) and Late Night with the Devil (LNWTD) both revolve around Reality TV and the dangerous power the genre exhibits and extends. Interestingly, both films are set in the late 1970s – the glory days of both the game show and the talk show. The Reality TV shows in both films are sepia-toned tributes that are at once nostalgic and deeply unsettling.
WOTH depicts a dating gameshow inspired by true events. In 1978, Sheryl Bradshaw (Anna Kendrick) joined The Dating Game looking for fame (and maybe love), only to encounter serial murderer Rodney Alcala as Bachelor Number 3. Meanwhile, LNWTD is presented as “found footage” of the infamous Halloween episode of Night Owls with Jack Delroy. Amid armchair banter and comedy skits, host Jack Delroy and his guests summon the devil in front of a live studio audience.
A core theme resonating through both films is the power of the camera and how Reality TV exerts the camera’s gaze to command and possess those whom it captures. The camera, with its elongated and unblinking lens, is a phallic symbol, allowing the male host, director, and cameramen to frame others. Women in either film are made to perform for the viewing pleasure of others, be that the audience, a serial killer, or even a demon.
In WOTH, aspiring actress Sheryl Bradshaw encounters predatory gazes with every interaction. Casual misogyny flourishes in the industry that Sheryl dreams of working in. On The Dating Game, Sheryl contends with the gameshow host’s condescension and the bachelors’ open lust. The gameshow eventually leads to her near-fatal encounter with Rodney Alcala, who embodies monstrous toxic masculinity.
The brilliance and terror of WOTH comes in watching Sheryl navigate the complex minefield of Hollywood, where the female body is subjected to exploitation and the dangers that come with being made hyper-visible on camera. Gender-based violence lurks everywhere, and The Dating Game offered Alcala a public stage to toy with a victim in front of a national audience. To him, that must’ve been the ultimate erotic fantasy and power trip.
LNWTD is similarly about the dangerous power of Reality TV. To boost ratings, talk show host Jack Delroy invites child abuse survivor Lilly to commune with a demon. Right before the possession, Jack is warned to abort the demonstration as the girl has grown unpredictable. Jack insists on continuing because talk shows thrive on unpredictability. He’s after the money shot: a real-life and real-time demonic possession on network television.
A term from pornography, the money shot entails the scene of greatest excitement and monetary value for production: that moment of loss of bodily control. The sexual undertones are rife. Lilly is 12 and on the cusp of sexuality when she appears on Jack’s show to give her body and soul to a demon. Called Mr Wriggles, it offers the audience a real show, including projectile vomiting, levitation, and slaughter.
Tellingly, on each episode of his show, Jack thanks the audience for tuning in and “letting me into your living rooms.” The horrifying implication is that because the demon who possessed Lilly gains influence over anyone who watches the possession, the studio audience, as well as an entire nation of viewers, has effectively been infected by watching the broadcast. Money shot indeed.
The surge of interest in the horrors of Reality TV in films is undeniable. But are these fears unfounded? Recent developments in American politics suggest there’s a real basis for these anxieties. After all, the returning President is the golden boy of Reality TV. Ironically, while Trump constantly paints mainstream media as an adversary, it is television that gives his firebrand persona and performances their greatest outlet of expression and a direct line to our living rooms.
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