TV

Did This Week's UnREAL Go Too Far?

UnREAL, Lifetime's new drama about a devious young television producer working on a fictionalised version of The Bachelor, was renewed for a second season earlier this week on the back of a wave of critical adoration. The show has managed to find traction with a much younger audience than the network's typical output, while the performances of Shiri Appleby and Constance Zimmer have attracted awards buzz. In other words, the show is giving Lifetime the reach, attention and respectability it has rarely enjoyed before, all while staying true to its essential remit of producing compelling women-oriented television.

Where that might typically mean the schlocky silliness epitomised by Kristen Wiig and Will Ferrell's parody, A Deadly Adoption, which the network gamely aired earlier this year, UnREAL isn't without its soapy plot twists but grounds them with a cast of complex characters whose moral compromises provide much of the show's real tension. The setting, a barely-disguised riff on The Bachelor entitled Everlasting, is its own little slice of brilliance, allowing the writers to employ the over-the-top melodrama so typical of reality TV, with the caveat that such contrivances exist because the characters are working overtime to make them happen. It's an inspired conceit, for which creators Marti Noxon and Sarah Gertrude Shapiro deserve great credit. It's no surprise that Shapiro is herself a Bachelor veteran, while Noxon previously worked on Buffy and Mad Men, perhaps explaining why the show has managed to balance its discordant elements so effectively to date. Spoilers, unsurprisingly, follow.

I say to date because the episode which aired last Monday night, entitled 'Fly', pushed the show's credibility and moral shading further than it ever has before, perhaps reaching a tipping point whereby that essential balance between soap and pseudo-realist drama was critically undermined. The episode revolved primarily around Ashley Scott's Mary, an older contestant and single mother, designated the show's MILF, whom show creator Chet deems to have outstayed her welcome. Chet makes a bet with Quinn (Zimmer), one of the show's senior producers, that she'll be sent home by the episode's end. Quinn, with the help of Appleby's Rachel, decides to create additional drama by bringing Mary's abusive ex onto the show, thereby forcing the show's bachelor (British playboy, Adam, played by Freddie Stroma) to step in as her white knight and making it almost impossible for him to later send her home without looking heartless and hypocritical.

Domestic abuse is one of those topics that is difficult to handle correctly in drama without coming across as exploitative and tacky. The climax of 'Fly', in which Mary is manipulated by her ex into committing suicide, could be generously described as coming perilously close to crossing that line. This is not to suggest the topic itself should be taboo: my personal belief is that nothing should be off-limits for artistic presentation, as art and entertainment provide an essential means through which important or difficult topics can be explored and presented to people who might otherwise be unaware of the complexity of the issues at hand. Nor do these topics always have to be handled in a certain way: the recent furore surrounding the presentation of rape on-screen, for instance, is not so much an issue with it being used in drama at all, or even its use in an exploitative or shorthanded capacity. It is that it is so rarely used in any other capacity, with few to no current examples of sexual abuse depicting the long-term physical and psychological effects on the victim. That in turn is corrupting the perception and discussion of rape in popular opinion and therefore urgently needs to be addressed. Personally, I would also extend those concerns to the presentation of torture, which has remained firmly lodged in Bush-era celebration since the inglory days of 24.

There are certainly elements to UnREAL's depiction of domestic abuse which feel like they could make a positive, if challenging, addition to the cultural conversation. The most impactful is the scene in which Mary goes to confront her ex, Kirk, in the trailer where he has been locked up, only for him to turn the tables and slowly, coldly convince her that the trauma she and her daughter suffered at his hands was her fault. This is horrifyingly close to the way real abusers often operate in real life, getting inside their victims' heads to keep them under their control and feeling helpless and alone. Considering how often the question comes up of why abuse victims don't simply leave their abusers, having such an unflinchingly precise depiction play out on screen, no matter how nasty to watch, can surely only be a positive both for those who do not fully grasp how psychological abuse can be just as dangerous, if not moreso, than physical abuse. It might even be helpful for victims themselves, in possibly allowing them to better understand their situation by seeing it played out in a fictional setting.

The problem is what it leads up to, Mary's suicide by jumping off the roof of the Everlasting mansion. Depictions of abuse, rape and torture do not need to end triumphantly: indeed, a negative ending is perhaps more valuable for forcing home the brutal ramifications of such situations rather than reducing them to a test of strength which risks making real-life victims feel weak for their inability to escape them in the same way as their fictionalised equivalents. They do, however, need to feel genuine, which is where the problems come in for 'Fly'. Everything in the episode felt like it was specifically engineered to get Mary onto that rooftop, as opposed to being the natural outcome of a series of ugly events and histories. Rachel and Quinn have severely compromised their morals before - one of the show's greatest strengths is its depiction of female characters in increasingly dark shades of grey when fictional women are still too often slotted into minor variations on the 'saint' or 'superbitch' tropes - but had those tendencies slightly alleviated by small traces of decency demonstrated elsewhere. It's hard to believe that even they, who high-fived over the idea of 'girl power' earlier in the episode, could ever be so blind as to think bringing an abusive ex onto the show could ever be seen as 'empowering', doubly so when the daughter whose arm he broke also happened to be visiting the set.

Not only does Shiri Appleby's Rachel go along with it, but stands idly by when Kirk goes into a violent fury again, reacting only when she herself is threatened. When Kirk is eventually restrained by a camera operator - because not only did they invite the long-time physical abuser of one of their contestants onto the show, they also didn't think to have any security around - the show presents it as though we're supposed to be relieved that the visibly shocked Rachel did not get hurt, even though she showed no concern for Mary or her daughter only seconds earlier. No-one deserves to be the victim of violence, no matter how reprehensible their actions, but to try and cast Rachel as the sympathetic one was a staggering misjudgment. Even Shia, the producer whose actions in swapping out Mary's bipolar meds with a placebo are directly linked to the episode's outcome - another problem, as it suggests Kirk's psychological abuse is only effective due to Mary not being on her medication, when perfectly healthy people are no less susceptible in real life - objects to the plan, albeit perhaps on the basis that she knows her actions have already compromised Mary's mental state.

Even for a show where characters rarely come off as decent or caring people, everyone seems unnaturally blasé about the horror that Mary is being put through. Adam takes a punch to his perfect face for stepping in to protect her, yet seems more amused than concerned when he pieces together how Rachel has been manipulating events to endanger a woman he at the very least has otherwise been presented as friendly towards. When Mary does eventually end up on the roof, preparing to jump in a slightly too twee pure white dress, Quinn's only real concern is that she doesn't have a camera nearby. For all the slow-motion running to Mary's side when she eventually jumps, there's no sense that any of the three characters present are even slightly concerned that they were directly responsible for someone's death - a much nastier version of a plotline from an earlier episode, in which Quinn and Rachel opted not to tell a contestant about her father's heart attack - so much as their inability to get it all on camera.

It will certainly be interesting to see where UnREAL goes from here, because as heartless as the Everlasting producers may be, it's nigh-on impossible to believe that the show wouldn't be immediately shut down by its network and investigated as a result of a contestant committing suicide, especially after forcing her to confront her abusive ex. That the next episode is entitled 'Savior' doesn't bode well for a realistic outcome, especially with only six of the nine episode order having played out to date. These ridiculous contrivances undermine what good the show could have done with a realistic exploration of domestic violence, instead turning potentially impactful drama into a plot point seemingly devised for shock value alone. In other words, it's the sort of thing that might have been expected from the Lifetime of old, but which until now UnREAL had stood above. A shame.

by Xander Markham