'Til death, or cancellation, do us part

If reality television was not the go-to medium of our day, all of these people would be showcasing themselves in some way — be it providing webcam access to their boudoirs, penning tell-all books or, in days of yore, shocking the neighbors with nude trips to fetch the paper or hashing out domestic squabbles, street-side. Had Carmen and Dave not been famous enough to generate interest in “’Til Death Do Us Part,” they more than likely would have tried out for “Couples Fear Factor.”

Media junkies they may be, but there’s a beautiful naiveté to the idea that Electra and Navarro — both of whom have been involved in previous quickie marriages — would be willing to film their wedding preparations. They were presumably so in love that they were undeterred by the challenges of filmed matrimony. This, of course, is predicated on the assumption that no one would agree to film their marriage if they thought it was in danger of dissolving.

It’s possible that I’m underestimating the pull of the publicity. Endangering your marriage — or at least speeding its demise through lots of shameless publicity — can result in quite the career boost.  After all, Nick and Jessica’s “Newlyweds” show made them both famous.  Would their marriage have lasted longer had they not let the cameras in?  If so, does anyone think that they would give back their current stardom for an uninterrupted domestic life?

Reality used to be a friend of theirs
The truth is, the breakups of Dave and Carmen, or Nick and Jessica, should be reminders to us — not only of the folly of filming your marriage but of reality TV’s inherently brutal nature.  While Ty Pennington may occasionally fix up a house, and the “Queer Eye” guys may teach a schlub the wonders of exfoliation, these are the exception to the rule.

After all, reality TV is the medium that brought you “Survivor,” “Temptation Island” and, lest we forget, “Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire.”  Reality TV wasn’t created to affirm committed relationships, it was created to destroy bonds between friends, lovers and family members, all in the name of cheap entertainment.  A good reality show destroys its attention-starved participants in a way that allows average, lonely, disenfranchised, and otherwise unhappy members of the viewing public to watch and say, “Sure glad that’s not me.”  It’s no place for a marriage.

At least there are hints that some networks are recognizing reality TV’s incompatibility with long-term happiness.  Shannon Doherty is launching her new series, “Breaking up With Shannon Doherty,” in which she capitalizes on what she — and reality TV — do best: tearing down the ties that bind, giving another human being the old heave-ho, capturing embarrassment and rejection and pain without any sort of decency or concern.  Dave and Carmen, we hardly knew you, and while we wished you many years of midget strippers and morbid party invitations, “Til death do us part” seemed a bit of an overreach, even to the romantics among us. 

Paige Ferrari is a freelance writer in New York City. She blogs at make-you-hmmm.blogspot.com.

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