The grotesque appeal of MAFS
I know it’s wrong, but I’m like an addict who knows their drug of choice isn’t healthy, writes former counsellor
Ihave an embarrassing confession to make. I started viewing Married at First Sight 2021 (Australia) and became hooked. What possessed me? I never watch horror or fantasy shows.
I’m one of millions. National productions of MAFS screen every year in 15 countries, including in New Zealand. Reality TV? It’s more soap opera, dripping with drama, sentiment, sex and suspense. Guardian writer Alexandra Spring called it ‘‘grotesque escapism’’.
Even while I recognise the manipulation, I record the next episode like the addict who knows their drug of choice is not healthy.
Counselling couples was my business for 40 years. I believed that people seeking help to start or save an intimate relationship want their privacy and dignity protected. That’s only one of the ethical principles that professionals are bound to uphold. At the very least we’re required to do no harm.
Audiences are familiar with shows that end with ‘‘no animal has been harmed in the making of this programme’’. What about human beings?
Of course the humans in this case are adults; 10 men and 10 women, plus extras on the bench ready to come on as replacements. (They don’t have to wait long.)
The chosen ones, selected from a reported 10,000 applicants, take a leap into the glaring lights. They could easily find the statistics on the outcomes of joining Married at First Sight (Australia). Of the total number of ‘‘marriages’’ performed through the seven series so far, 5.5 per cent stayed together.
Perhaps hope gets in their eyes. They might just find the perfect match. At least they could be celebrities in front of a
million viewers, attracting large numbers of fans and possible suitors. I doubt they are fully prepared, though, for the tough and often brutal judgments from other participants, viewers, media commentators and even their own families.
The tough feedback should be directed not at the participants, whom I will not name as my feeble gesture to avoid shaming them further, but at the panel of experts: John Aiken, Mel Schilling (both qualified in psychology) and clinical sexologist Alessandra Rampola. They must know that ethical principles and reputations are at stake.
On camera, they present like celebrity hosts, speaking with well-rehearsed enthusiasm and emphasis. The panel matching meetings look fake, and some pairings suspiciously dubious. It took less than an hour after ‘‘first sight’’ for two of the brides to pick that they had been matched with an alien being.
Over the following weeks, the experts set tasks and exercises in letters sent to each couple, with no warning of risk; no principle of ‘‘informed consent’’.
One early exercise required each bride and groom to rank the other opposite sex participants in order of attraction. In another, partners were directed to stand facing each other and to hold the other’s genitals.
The couples are on camera in their rooms to manage these and other provocative communication exercises. If they get stuck, or argue until one or both are hurt, no-one appears to intervene. In one scene only, an ailing couple met one of the experts, who offered some constructive guidance.
There are many pitfalls in intimate relationships. When Elizabeth Barrett Browning asked ‘‘How do I love thee. Let me count the ways’’, she didn’t mention counting the innumerable ways I could harm thee. I could avoid you, criticise you, compare you, control you, expose you, lie to you, cheat on you, reject you and leave you.
These ways are illustrated throughout the series. A few participants are vulnerable, apologetic or insightful and mature enough to heal the injuries without help. The rest are left to flounder, to blame or defend and walk out. It’s like watching a wrestling match with no rules, no referee, and no paramedics on hand to treat the wounds.
Some of the marriages end early in the season, with both partners electing to leave. Big sigh of relief. New pairs take their place. A minority of the total cast are in relationships that show any promise of stability.
I can only hope the disappointed participants recover and emerge a little wiser, with greater strength or enough support to face the future. Some might even seek confidential help from real professionals.
I know public outrage, protests and petitions have been delivered to the producers on their failure to uphold a duty of care. The TV channels would probably defend the programme simply because it attracts millions of viewers and hundreds of advertisers. I could express my protest in another way.
I could just turn it off and never watch again.