It’s going to be a long, hot summer for the makers of Love Island – and not entirely in the way they would have liked. What had been, at least for the first couple of seasons, the ultimate carefree televisual experience, has recently had the heat turned on it: do the contestants present unrealistic and unattainable body images (at least one study by a mental health charity believes so)? Has the show failed to provide enough diversity (the creative director put his foot in it by implying that doing so might stop contestants fancying each other)? And did the show’s format and any lack of adequate aftercare contribute to the deaths of the former contestants Sophie Gradon and Mike Thalassitis? Suddenly the guilty part of the show’s “guilty pleasure” appeal became rather more concerning. The fact that the first male contestant on the show – Anton Danyluk – has been criticised for an unearthed photograph showing him blacked up as Mr T won’t exactly have settled nerves.
ITV has announced a series of behind-the-scenes measures to look after this season’s contestants but, from the second the opening credits roll, you wouldn’t know anything had changed. The villa is the same. The format is the same. There is more ethnic diversity, and one self-proclaimed “curvy” contestant, but they are all still tanned and toned and apparently allergic to any kind of fabric.
The girls arrive – a scientist! A cabin crew member! Someone who believes that surfing can be an entire personality! – and once the women have lined up by the pool, the lads arrive for their perusal. “I bet you didn’t expect a Scottish accent to be coming out of this?” grins Danyluk as he struts up to be evaluated. Out of what? A human who has been shaved smoother than an eel? His wipe-clean legs actually put most of the ladies off and so he partners up with Amy, the only woman willing to step forward for a bit of “this”. She is a lucky lady – Danyluk has only been on the show for 30 minutes and we already know that he has a wandering eye and his mum shaves his bum for him.
Next up is Sherif, who does what is known in the industry as a “Dr Alex” – being soundly rejected by all the women in the villa. “It is what it is,” he says. He has to impose himself on geordie Amber, who maybe needs to work on her tact: “I don’t actually hate you,” she says as he hovers nervously in her vicinity. Five minutes later and she has ditched him for Callum. “It is what it is,” notes Sherif again, glumly.
Surfer Lucie is looking for another surfer to surf with because she really likes surfing. But there are no surfers, so she plumps for scouse firefighter Michael instead. Sadly for Michael, the next person to walk in is Joe, who looks marginally more like a surfer, so she jumps ship. Michael is forced to summon up a phrase to encapsulate his heartbreak: “It is what it is,” he sniffs.
Michael ends up left to pair up with Yewande (and while there is no legislating for who fancies who, it doesn’t exactly look great that two black contestants are the ones left on the shelf). The show’s makers are keen to let you know that Irish Yewande is a scientist – she is shown in the intro clip playing with brightlycoloured test tubes, like all scientists do shortly before ripping off their lab coats to reveal their cleavage. Yewande and Michael don’t seem to fancy each other, but later on they break the ice over biotechnology – one hell of a pay day if you put any money on that – and the first seeds of romance seem to be blossoming.
The same seems true of Sherif and Anna, who didn’t want to pair up but find a bond in the fact he has followed her on Instagram for a year. (Who said old-fashioned courtship is dead?) Sadly, the same can’t be said for Amber and Callum, whose initial attraction seems to have faltered thanks to the inconvenient fact that they have to actually speak to each other. Amber doesn’t recognise the name of Callum’s Welsh home town, so he tells her it is near Cardiff. Sadly, shehas never heard of that, either. “It’s a place in Wales,” he explains patiently, probably deciding it is best not to ask whether or not she has heard of that. Later, they discuss their ages. She is 21 and he is 28. “Oh, so you’re old then?” she says.
This won’t end well, but probably better than for Amy and her shaven Anton, who is already promoting himself as the island’s chief love rat by going after Lucie the surfer girl, despite the fact that he doesn’t surf, or look like he surfs, and so is therefore utterly unattractive to her. The season is but one episode old and Anton is already telling barefaced lies to his partner (“I know people would say this, but I would have picked you anyway,” he tells Amy), while trying to crack on with Lucie under her and Joe’s noses.
Drama will ensue – which suggests Love Island hasn’t dulled its edges in the face of criticism. Viewers should strap themselves in for more of the same. It is, after all, what it is.
