95
Reality Bites Back, critic Jennifer L.
Pozner called it “the most sadistic reality
series of the decade.”
Gentler makeover stuck around lon-
ger. TLC stalwart What Not to Wear, in
which hosts Stacy London and Clinton
Kelly cheerfully upgraded the ward-
robes of the sartorially clueless, lim-
ited cosmetic intervention to hair and
makeup. But the show still fed on the
mostly female participants’ insecurities,
implying that any woman who failed to
conform to external beauty standards
must want to change. London revamped
her approach for 2015’s Love, Lust or
Run. “I’m not out to change them,” she
told HuffPost of her subjects. “I don’t
want them to blend in; they aren’t nec-
essarily meant to look conventional.”
Network executives also found new
ways to cash in on Americans’ obsession
with weight loss. NBC’s long- running
hit The Biggest Loser tantalized view-
ers with the opportunity to watch obese
people dramatically transform their
bodies through a hellish program of
calorie restrictions and hours of daily
much flakier. Efron’s alternately goofy
and philosophical narration creates the
impression that he’s just as sanguine
about the possibility that water from
Lourdes’ famous spring can cure cancer
as he is about the promise of geothermal
energy. Paltrow has come under fire for
selling women expensive products that
could hurt them. (In 2019, a woman
sustained second-degree burns from
vaginal steaming, a treatment Goop had
endorsed.) And her show
fails to meaningfully dis-
tinguish between research-
supported science and for-
ays into ridiculous topics
like psychic mediumship.
Lost Resort, for its part,
blurs the line between
nonjudgmental therapy
and mean-spirited en-
tertainment. The show
professes to care about
its participants; some
of them, like a woman who can’t stop
mourning her stillborn baby, do evoke
empathy. Others are edited to fit the
contours of classic reality-TV villains.
And it’s hard to know how seriously
we’re supposed to take the healers.
Oneika, who teaches meditation to in-
carcerated people, seems pretty legit.
But the retreat’s leader is a woman
named Chrissie Fire Mane, an expert
in “shamanic psychotherapy” with a
fondness for finger cymbals. Benjamin
doesn’t exactly refute the viewer’s sus-
picion that the show cast healers based
on appearance. “Your body is your tem-
ple,” he opines. “I was blessed to have
a temple that’s 6 ft. 4 and has nice hair
and develops muscles well.” Set pieces
like the rage ritual land more as manu-
factured drama than as effective treat-
ments for cast members whose issues
range from anger management to de-
tachment from emotions.
Wellness is a complicated topic. Gen-
teel framing aside, the shoddy science
and subliminal lifestyle marketing that
underlie so many wellness shows could
be more dangerous than the transforma-
tion porn of makeover programs. And
while reality TV might sometimes edu-
cate us or inspire empathy, its chief func-
tion will always be to entertain. Anyone
who says differently probably has some
snake oil to sell you. •exercise. Under the supervision of train-
ers, many contestants would lose up-
wards of 100 lb. in a few months. Hospi-
talizations, horror stories and a chorus
of criticism from medical professionals
suggested the show was exploiting its
casts more than helping them. Loser dis-
appeared in 2016, after a widely pub-
licized study found contestants were
regaining pounds because rapid weight
loss had slowed their metabolisms.
This winter, the show
resurfaced on USA, amid
a TV landscape that’s rav-
enous for content but
starved for ideas. The con-
trite Loser promised to
focus on sustainable life-
style changes, incorporat-
ing therapy and nutrition.
Though critics didn’t all
agree that this makeover
was extreme enough, USA
and Syfy networks head
Chris McCumber touted Loser 2.0 as a
“holistic, 360-degree look at wellness.”The wellness show is, on its scrupu-
lously moisturized face, more humane
than the makeover show. It often in-
volves celebrities who would never en-
danger their reputations by airing out
their homeliest undergarments on TV,
because wellness culture is a magnet
for people whose livelihoods depend
on staying youthful and attractive. The
stated aim of these shows is to help peo-
ple, not humiliate them. Watching this
stuff is supposed to feel good, not dirty.
Unfortunately, the effectiveness—
and safety—of many disciplines that fall
under the enormous umbrella of well-
ness varies widely. Wellness culture in-
cludes such research- backed practices
as yoga and meditation; it also encom-
passes alternative therapies like crystal
healing, whose utility is limited to the
placebo effect. At its fringes are harm-
ful, demonstrably false beliefs like those
promoted by the antivaccine move-
ment. But even legitimate corners of the
wellness world can be cultish, hyper-
commercialized, emptily aspirational.
Wellness shows reflect that range.
Sleeping With Friends is pretty care-
ful, offering time-tested wisdom like
avoiding screens before bed. Series like
Goop Lab and Down to Earth can be‘All you have to
do is be your
being. That’s
really what I’m
trying to bring.’
BENJAMIN,
a wellness coach,
in the series premiere
of Lost Resort