Not long into watching Let’s Marry Harry, Netflix’s knock-off version of The Bachelor in which 20 women compete for the “privilege” of getting hitched to Australian reality star Harry Jowsey, I realise that what I’m seeing might just be the most uniquely toxic show on telly. Don’t get me wrong – I love my trash TV, especially if it involves love or dating. I’m not above mindlessly binging my way through Love is Blind, Perfect Match, The Ultimatum (the “queer love” versions are the only ones worth your time) and Too Hot to Handle, where Jowsey, now a TV “personality” and social media sensation in his own right with an inexplicable 4.8 million Instagram followers, first made his name.
Even back in his debut, I baulked at Jowsey’s supposed appeal. This, I surmised, amounted to little more than the fact he was over-confident and tall (6ft 5in, the exact height made popularised by the infamous “6ft 5in man in finance” ideal). Aside from that, the underwhelming Aussie had a baby face like an overgrown schoolboy and a juvenile temperament to match, ranging from won’t-grow-up Peter Pan lost boy to sullen, petulant teenager.
This behaviour was excusable only because, back then, he was in his early twenties. But in the six years since, as he’s appeared in the full stable of busted Netflix reality formats, little has changed. Jowsey earned himself a reputation as a playboy after tearing through an endless roster of certified hot girls with Kardashian-worthy enhancements, then losing interest and discarding them as quickly as a toddler getting bored with his toys.
This latest vehicle is meant to present Jowsey in a different light. At the ripe old age of 29, and after the death of his father brought him new perspective and clarity, Jowsey is, he says, ready to settle down as a husband and father. The natural way to accomplish this, of course, is to round up a bevy of attractive, accomplished and uniformly slim young women (presumably looking to launch their own reality careers), bundle them into a house together for six weeks, and make them vie for your affections while filming their every move – with the promise of marrying one of them at the end.
If you haven’t seen it – and I pray, for your sake, that you haven’t – the women all start “betrothed” to Jowsey, a man they have never met, before being forced to remove their engagement rings and leave the show as they get eliminated in batches, initially by a trio of Jowsey’s inner circle comprising two old friends and an ex-girlfriend (Georgia Hassarati, another Too Hot to Handle alum). The whole show feels like an inherently patriarchal, right-wing throwback Over the course of eight tedious episodes, the field is whittled down to three women. One of these, Sam, wisely decides to eject herself from the whole ghastly experiment without even wishing Jowsey goodbye, leaving the two finalists to travel with him to New Zealand, meet his whole family, buy wedding dresses and get ready for their impending nuptials, only for one of them to be cruelly jilted on the big day itself.
This week, the no-doubt chaotic reunion episode, a stalwart feature of any Netflix reality series these days, will air to spill all the “behind-the-scenes tea”. New subscribers only. £9.99/mo. after free trial. Plan auto-renews until cancelled.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
