There was once a time when Love Island was screened on projectors in pubs around the country, the final would bring in crowds akin to the World Cup and people from all walks of life would gather to discuss their favourite couples. This year there's been a shift; the chatter has grown quiet, the viewings have gone down and pubs would be better off showing the darts. Outside of the Twittersphere between 9pm and 10pm, you barely hear anyone talking about Love Island.
This series has seen the lowest viewing figures in five years, with the opening episode pulling in just 1.4 million viewers – one million people less than last summer’s series. Maybe it’s because it’s cold and we only have hot water bottles and clubcard biscuits for company, or maybe this shift has been bubbling under the surface for years.
The format is tired
In Pandora Sykes and Sirin Kale's podcast 'Unreal: A Critical History of Reality TV', they discuss the cultural impact and subsequent rise and fall of different reality TV shows – and the series ends with two episodes about Love Island. The pair discuss how the format has grown tired after so many series' and has become little more than 'an influencer sausage factory'. The host, the villa and the aesthetic of the day beds can all change, but the format has largely remained the same since its conception. We had high hopes for the shake up this year, and Maya Jama has been holding down the fort, but no concept can last forever.
We know exactly what's coming when they shout 'got a TEEXXXT!', that heads turn in Casa Amor and that the baby episode is really annoying to watch. The host (supposedly to reduce carbon footprint) barely features beyond hosting Aftersun on a Sunday night, and some would argue Iain Sterling's jokes have aged like a bag of kale from Aldi. There's no game of truth or dare, night in the hideaway or avocado toast shaped like a heart that we haven't seen before. Sadly for the cast of series nine, the show just isn't what it used to be.
We also know that while many contestants launch successful social media careers after appearing on the show, many of them struggle with the barrage of abuse they face online. Tragically, two contestants and the former host Caroline Flack have taken their own lives. It's increasingly difficult to watch people get bullied on and off the TV, while still enjoying it as a light-hearted reality show. Only recently, Ofcom received 197 complaints for Zara Lackenby-Brown's treatment on the show.
The stock characters
Love Island may have peaked in popularity last year, with 3.4 million people tuning in for the final, but the magic formula of throwing in an Ekin-Su or an Ovie Soko hasn't seemed to work this year. Although it's not their fault that we're a bit bored after eight long years of Love Island dominating our screens, the contestants know too well what they're signing up for.
Many people have even pointed out that most islanders fit into cookie cutter moulds of those who came before them. We've got the Essex boy, the Welsh brunette, the fiery blonde and the 'nice guy' – the list goes on and on. People go on the show knowing which personalities go down well with the public, how to play the game to stay in long enough to secure a brand deal, and that worst case scenario they can start, if not feature on, a podcast as soon as they leave.
From eggs in one basket, turning heads and trips to the salon, to pulling someone for a chat or mugging them off, the Love Island lexicon is also passed on from one series to the next like a relay baton. While this builds familiarity and helps viewers feel nostalgic each time the show returns, it strips each cohort of the ability to feel original. If they all look the same, speak the same and act the same, how long before get so bored that we just stop watching?
An antidote to Love Island is, of course, the smash-hit series The Traitors, which aired towards the end of 2022. The gameshow cast was made up of ordinary people (who weren't already slightly famous) who had no idea what to expect from the format, how the game worked or what type of people they'd be playing with. That's one of the crucial reasons why it was so popular – and popular it was. It has been described as a 'word of mouth shocker', and the final brought in 3.2 million viewers on its first ever run. The Traitors proves that fame should be a byproduct of a successful reality show, not a prerequisite for going on one.
Our heads keep turning
Gone are the days when we'd invite our friends over for a Saturday night takeaway so we could watch One Direction on The X Factor at 8pm on ITV1. Our viewing has never been so individualised – we can watch what we want whenever we want it. And with the established domination of streaming services, it's rare that any show can force us to tune in at the same time, let alone the same day. Love Island used to do that, but it doesn't anymore.
To be honest, it's a lot to ask of people to sustain an interest in a relatively boring group of people for an hour every evening, six nights a week. It often feels like if you miss a few episodes in a row then there's either too much to catch up on or so little to catch up on that you don't even bother.
Maybe this style of viewing lends itself better to warm summer evenings when we wish we were lying around in a bikini too, we'll have to wait and see when the show is back on again in a few months time... But in the winter, not so much. Not only do we have multiple near-identical alternatives to Love Island on various viewing platforms – if dating shows are your bag – but we are constantly being recommended new shows that people can't stop talking about. From The Traitors to The White Lotus, Happy Valley and The Last of Us, we have never been so spoilt for choice. So after a strong eight-year reign, enough influencers to populate a small country and many happy memories, can we be blamed for finally turning our heads?