Too Hot To Handle is here, and we are already a few episodes in. It's a definite hit, thanks to the the classic formula of dropping attractive singles in paradise and just waiting for them to fall for each other. Basically, it’s escapist television at its finest, and is well worth your time, especially in the current climate. But, there’s one thing that its concept can’t escape from: it’s inherent tendency to slut shame.
Let me clarify. Too Hot To Handle sees ten contestants from around the world arrive on a tropical island. Participants are chosen via three key criteria, with the opening voiceover from comedian Desiree Burch stating that they have found the ‘hottest, horniest, commitment-phobic swipesters’. Then, the twist: if they have sex, kiss, or engage in any romantic or masturbatory physical activity, money will be knocked off the £100,000 prize.
It’s a fun idea. An original and inherently harmless way to advance the reality daring model. Watching ten erotically charged (yes, that term is borrowed from Friends and is ‘college talk for horny’) individuals quiver in lust as they sit across from someone who is equally desperate to get busy is endlessly entertaining. It’s like the Josh Hartnett film 40 Days And 40 Nights, but with nine other people. The problem is, though, that there is undoubtedly an implied judgement of those involved.
Even aside from an edit that paints them as undeniable, if loveable idiots, we are invited to quietly condemn their ways, to gasp at their lax approach to sex, their casual references to their numbers, and their quickness to cut to the chase.
Lana, a slightly phallic, Alexa-style gadget, announces the twist in the tail: ‘I will observe the guests and analyse their behaviour in order to help them on the path towards better relationships.’ But what is this ‘better’ relationship that Lana pertains to be pursuing? Later, she – or it – adds ‘deeper’ to the mix. Does it, mean ‘longer’? Sure, that could be achieved from abstaining for a while. Does it mean more emotionally fulfilling? Maybe, although waiting to have sex is surely not the best way of obtaining a mature, symbiotic partnership. Choosing ‘better’, rather than ‘longer’ or, simply ‘different’, the show’s narrative is clear: these ten participants need to be taught that their ways of casual sex are inferior to long-term dating. It’s a lesson they didn’t ask to learn. Unlike Love Island, they were recruited via subterfuge.
As the show continues, there are occasional sprinklings of condescension. ‘I’m amazed they’re not horizontal already!’, balks Desiree on day one. Later, when the group plays a game that will see them guess who is touching them, she asks ‘why not? Seems like the perfect icebreaker for a bunch of people who met nine hours ago.’ Of course they’re horny: they thought they’d signed up for a televised orgy. Judging highly sexed people for rejecting real love isn’t really fair when you’ve specifically cast them for exactly that. A fondness for frequent, consensual casual sex is not something to be criticised. These people are entertaining enough without introducing jibes.
And to what end? Producers do not have lasting relationships on their mind, really. If they did, they would not have cast individuals from the US, Canada, the UK and Australia. Love Island alumna find it difficult enough to make romance last when they’ve all gone home and have a four hour drive down the motorway for their first, real date. Those who fall for each other in Too Hot To Handle are, realistically, never going to see each other again.
Too Hot To Handle is a delight. It’s funny, binge-worthy and I adore most of those involved. But it normalises slut-shaming through its approach. I kept wishing they’d all just say ‘sod it’ and have a group session on the beach. It would have emptied the prize fund and ended the show early, of course. But it would have been a finger up to those judging from home.
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