But if the proliferation of watch parties is any indication, those scandals have only increased audience interest.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never really understood sports bars before,\u201d my 25-year-old daughter told me. \u201cNow I do.\u201d<\/p>\n
For a watch-party neophyte, it was more than a little strange to see tables full of people set aside their watermelon margaritas and mozzarella sticks to applaud the sexual consummation of strangers. But under those sheets cavorted current fan-favorite Amaya \u201cPapaya\u201d Espinal with her current partner Bryan Arenales, which explains the crowd\u2019s voyeuristic joy. On \u201cLove Island,\u201d the couple perceived as the strongest wins the $100,000 prize (and, presumably, romantic bliss).<\/p>\n
So the approving roar was, in part, driven by relief and hope for a team Amaya Papaya win.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Amaya \u201cPapaya\u201d Espinal and Bryan Arenales in Tuesday\u2019s episode of \u201cLove Island USA.\u201d<\/p>\n
(Peacock)<\/p>\n
It was also the sound of the latest attempt to revive the smoldering embers of the electronic hearth and save linear television.<\/p>\n
You don\u2019t have to love \u201cLove Island,\u201d with its appalling candy-colored villa in Fiji, unapologetic emphasis on \u201chotness\u201d and endless dramatic pauses to appreciate the fact that in the increasingly fractured and isolated viewership experience of modern television, it is drawing people together, physically, and in real time.<\/p>\n
The platform may be NBCUniversal\u2018s streaming service Peacock, but \u201cLove Island\u201d is returning TV to its roots.<\/p>\n
Frankly, that\u2019s much more startling than the sight and sound of people devouring the messy drama of competitive intercourse along with their happy-hour priced drinks and bites.<\/p>\n
Twenty years ago, reality television was viewed by many as a threat to traditional TV. Yes, there had always been daytime game shows, but after \u201cAmerican Idol\u201d and \u201cSurvivor\u201d became prime-time hits and the Kardashians began their empire building, the reality craze spread like kudzu through broadcast and cable. Cheap to make, reality series didn\u2019t need huge audiences to be successful. Network executives couldn\u2019t green-light them fast enough, and for a few years, it seemed that scripted programming would become the exception, found mostly on subscription-based platforms like HBO and Showtime.<\/p>\n
That isn\u2019t what happened, of course. Beginning with AMC, a wide variety of cable networks began producing original scripted series, followed closely by Netflix, Prime Video and other streamers. Reality TV remained popular, but there was a new cultural phenomenon in town \u2014 the prestige dramas and comedies of what some called the new Golden Age of television. For a few glorious years, highly produced scripted series were watched, and then discussed, together and in real time. A thousand recap blogs bloomed, and whether it was \u201cBreaking Bad\u201d or \u201cDownton Abbey,\u201d all anyone talked about was television.<\/p>\n
Alas, as is so often the case, bust followed boom. The proliferation of platforms and shows splintered the audience and ad revenues. Streaming, with its binge model and personal-device availability, made viewing increasingly less about a family or group of friends gathering around a flat-screen and more about everyone balancing their laptop on their stomachs or hunching over their phones. Since no one knew who was watching what and when, watercooler chat and even many recap blogs spluttered out.<\/p>\n