“Outside perspective, this seems nuts and crazy and people are probably wondering what the hell we’re doing. And I feel the same way.” While these could be the regretful words of any American voter in the aftermath of November’s election, they originate from a more bewildering source, if you can believe it.
This is how “Temptation Island” participant Ashley Moore attempts to rationalize why letting her boyfriend of one and a half years join three other committed but not engaged men in a villa stacked with single women cavorting in bikinis is a fine idea.
Ashley’s partner Grant Larson has cheated on her before, but this time will be different, he swears before the rolling cameras. “I love you. I want to be with you,” Grant tells Ashley, adding, “I hope that we get through this.”
In that moment, it looks like Ashley believes he means what he’s saying. Maybe she’s forgotten which show she’s on . . . and who she’s with.
Shanté Glover, Tyler Breshears, Grant Larsen, Ashley Moore and Alexa Santamaria in “Temptation Island” (Courtesy of Netflix)
Much has been written about how our culture-wide demise of critical thinking skills accelerated the spread of disinformation and the fracturing of reality. Arm in arm with this, and less discussed, is the death of deductive logic, the ability to understand cause and effect by composing simple conditional arguments with an antecedent and a consequent.
One prevalent question never changes: Why on Earth would anyone agree to this?
We recognize this has the simple mapping tool of if/then. If a felonious politician tells you that he will be a dictator, then he will behave like one if you elect him. If his allies have a meticulous plan to consolidate power among the few to the detriment of the rest of the world, then we should assume they will follow it to the letter when given the chance.
“Temptation Island” shrinks disastrous outcomes to a manageable size, limiting the inhumanity to a few pairs of lovers stubbornly ignoring enough warning flares to turn the skies scarlet.
If a man confesses/brags in front of the woman he’s betrayed, “I’ve had multiple women in my life before. I’ve had threesomes. I’ve done it all,” then burying that man in boobs and twerking yams will likely lead to tears faster than the altar. And then I will watch all of it to feel better about society’s oil-slicked slide from the eighth circle of hell into the ninth.
Jaded viewers are right to wonder why “Temptation Island” keeps cycling back into circulation, especially in an era that’s already lousy with spinoffs of “The Bachelor,” international editions of “Love Is Blind” and nutty fare like “Too Hot to Handle.”
“Temptation Island,” an EPA Superfund site among trashy romance competition shows, predates all of these. But somehow, apart from its first season in pre-9/11 2001, it meets the moment without changing many of its methods.
In every season, the consenting couples are split into separate villas where they’re surrounded by single members of the opposite sex. Cameras are everywhere, including inside bathrooms. Every so often each group gathers at bonfires to watch selectively edited clips showing what their partners are saying or who they’re doing while they’re not around. They’re informed that these clips don’t tell the whole story, but are designed to inform them and evoke an emotional response.
If a person is going to betray their partner, the bonfires have a way of lighting that wick and exploding seasons into chaos. Since this ninth season is on Netflix, the standards and practices aren’t as strict as on Fox or USA, where the show aired previously. This also means we’re subjected to captions we will never unsee (hello, “rhythmic wet slapping”) leaving no questions about what’s taking place in the dark. Tears are shed. Regrettable behavior escalates. Everybody is on a journey!
Brion Whitley and a “Temptress” in “Temptation Island” (Courtesy of Netflix)
Some of the transgressors try to gaslight the audience in their confessionals despite what they’ve recently burned into our eyes and ears. They sophomorically deceive the strangers they’re shacking up with, hoping the ones they want will ignore their manipulations. Sometimes it doesn’t work, but for the most part, it does.
A new addition tailored to our era’s cruelty is the “Temptation Havens,” glamping tents set up in each villa’s yards where the cameras aren’t allowed to go. The catch is that whenever someone enters, red lights blink on and off at their partners’ villa to alert them that someone is sticking a few appendages where they shouldn’t be. When it happens for the first time in Season 9, tears are shed, followed by retaliatory tent trips that transform the men’s aggressive disregard into regret once they realize how their partners must feel.
Otherwise, denial flows freely. That’s also true of the single participants, some of whom responded to the casting call without entirely understanding what they were signing up for. “I didn’t come here to play games, and that’s kind of what this is feeling like to me,” says one peeved competitor on this romance game show, “And it’s a little disappointing.”
Following a 15-year hiatus, “Temptation Island” revived smack in the middle of Donald Trump’s first administration. Back in January 2019, the president’s lies and attempts to shape reality with Sharpies were startling but feckless, to drop that era’s defining term.
In today’s depressing consequence, the show embodies another popularly used phrase: “Shocked but not surprised.”
Reading the news lately yields plenty of tales of people acting against their interests despite warnings from reasonable fellow adults.
Ashley and Grant, Tyler Breshears and Tayler Byrd, Brion Whitley and Shanté Glover and Alexa Santamaria and Lino Troisi all seem to have a grasp on reality as we all understand it. Although they profess to be in this screwy loyalty gauntlet for similar reasons, not everyone’s impetus is the same.
A few conversations reveal that diving into “Temptation” was Brion’s idea, not Shanté’s. Ditto for Grant, who brings along his acoustic guitar, a.k.a. the louche’s lyre. Whatever prima facie reasoning each couple scripts for being on this show is blown apart by the end of the first day and the 10th body shot.
Guiding everyone is the show’s host and relationship guru Mark L. Walberg, whose disconcertingly white smile doubles as a line of gravestones for all the ailing relationships his show has mercy killed. He is half Mr. Roarke from “Fantasy Island,” and half early aughts-edition Dr. Phil, in that he wants the best for everyone even if that means shattering their merry illusions.
Mark L. Walberg on “Temptation Island” (Courtesy of Netflix)
At each bonfire, he shows each man and woman footage of their partners banging out their worst nightmares, i.e. enacting the most predictable outcome. To the women, he offers support; to the men tough love.
The “Temptation Island” format is nearly 25 years old and has gone global. Only a few weeks ago, a contestant on the Spanish version, José Carlos Montoya, became a worldwide sensation. His bonfire revelation set him to sprinting down a moonlit beach to confront his girlfriend mid-grind with another man as the host helplessly cries out, “Montoya, por favor!”
Regardless of the language and cultural differences, one prevalent question never changes: Why on Earth would anyone agree to this? Montoya can at least claim to know the score, since he was a Spanish reality TV veteran before romantic distress transformed him into a heartsick Sonic the Hedgehog.
Nine American seasons of this show haven’t yielded an answer that makes any more sense than a toddler’s urge to stick a fork in an electrical socket. But reading the news lately yields plenty of tales of people acting against their interests despite warnings from reasonable fellow adults.
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Like scores of contenders over this show’s nine seasons and 24 years, more than 77 million voters effed around and now we’re all finding out.
With that being our reality, watching these struggling monogamists swim through the opposite sex’s bare skin and lower standards is a relief. This sounds judgmental because it is. Again, we’re talking about this show as an illustration of logic’s failure across genres, mediums and cultures. The federal worker who voted for a guy bent on dismantling the government while believing his job would be safe is as much of a wishful thinker as anyone on this show whether precariously coupled or inebriated and single.
Not everyone is unclear on the basics of syllogism, happily. If the option is to play stupid games, then tailoring our reactions accordingly is better than weeping over stupid prizes.
“I came for the margaritas, I drank a lot of margaritas,” one woman nonchalantly confesses as she exits the island. It’s good to know some people still get it.
“Temptation Island” is streaming on Netflix.
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