The British twist on this franchise sticks to the US formula, down to the gold goblets. But given the show’s track record, surely we know the premise doesn’t work?
In the opening episode of Love Is Blind: UK, the residents of the “male living quarters” – overcome by the imminent possibility of meeting their future wives, the testosterone surging through the air like Ambi Pur: Homme – break into a spontaneous rendition of Craig David’s 7 Days. It is a nod to the UK “flava” of this new adaptation of Netflix’s hit dating show and the whirlwind romances they are about to embark on: only slightly more protracted than David’s week-long tryst and with much higher stakes.
After six seasons of the US Love Is Blind, the format is now well established: men and women, confined to separate pods, go on a series of dates, getting to know each other from opposite sides of a wall. In 10 days or fewer, they choose one of their dates to get engaged to. Only then do they lay eyes on them and test their connection in “the real world”, before deciding at the altar, a month later, whether they wish to go ahead with the marriage. It all makes David’s packed schedule look rather restrained.
Since its debut in February 2020, Love Is Blind has become one of Netflix’s most popular titles, inspiring adaptations for Japan, Brazil, Sweden and Germany. Its outlandish premise is persistently justified as an “experiment” seeking to test whether romance can bloom better without such distasteful distractions as physical attraction and lust. Ollie – one of the UK contestants, who has been chided for his tendency “to date with my eyes” – hypothesises that the absence of visual inputs will lead to “all my other senses [being] heightened”.
Of course, it being TV, everyone involved is conventionally attractive and, in many cases, indisputably smokin’. But although this “experiment” may lack crucial controls, after six US seasons, audiences can feel quietly confident of the outcome. The entertainment news site Vulture crunched the numbers and found that, from 178 participants, Love Is Blind has resulted in 11 marriages; of those, two couples are divorced. The odds aren’t good, even if, like the participants, you can overlook the associated baggage of doing it all on TV.
This UK version sticks to the US formula, down to the gold goblets (reportedly for ensuring continuity in the edit) and the husband and wife hosts. Emma and Matt Willis are a good match for Nick and Vanessa Lachey’s star power, even if they don’t share the American couple’s supreme ease with the undertaking. It is, after all, essentially un-British to talk about your feelings, which all Love Is Blind participants are obliged to do constantly.
The biggest difference between the UK and US shows is the presence of God, who is often thanked in the original for bringing soulmates together. Instead of religion, the UK daters have football teams. An Arsenal fan’s mid-date discovery that there is a Spurs fan on the other side of the wall is met with mutual dismay: “This isn’t gonna work!”
Faith may not be a factor in Love Is Blind UK, but a fundamental conservatism shines through. “I want to come out with a husband,” says Catherine, a dental nurse from Jersey, who claims men objectify her as abs and long hair. Steven, a CrossFit gym owner, talking about his desire for children, says he wants “a little mini-me, that is part of my DNA”.
There is some frank discussion of fertility issues and family planning, which is refreshing and relatable as the number of older singles grows. But the melancholy music that plays when Sabrina, a marketing director from Belfast, speaks about her ambivalence about kids makes the show’s values clear. And, of course, there is a sacrificial lamb in Demi, a sweet school safeguarding and attendance officer, struggling with her self-esteem as a bigger girl surrounded by six-pack physiques. The explicit competition for dates within the “female dating quarters” doesn’t help.
Love Is Blind claims to counter a superficial modern dating culture, but it is certainly present in the pods. The obvious villain of this UK series is Sam, a product design manager and self-described “smooth talker” who complains of women failing to see past his shirtless selfies to the fun-loving scamp beneath. “That’s who I am: I’m Peter Pan,” says Sam, 31.
That may not register as a red flag to him, but it does to many of his dates, who call him out on his pat answers and skittish energy. Love Is Blind: UK may also be able to claim the series’ first ally in Benaiah, a sensitive and spiritual structural landscaper, who steps in to warn a woman whom Sam is dating about his conduct behind the scenes. But it doesn’t stop her from booking a one-way ticket to Neverland.
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The pods, equally, are a fantasyland and the injection of reality – in the form of sex, friends, family and finances – hits hard. Only four episodes of Love Is Blind: UK were available for review, just enough to see the engaged couples released from their quarters, but it is already clear that there are unhappy endings in store.
What makes the show hard to dismiss as mindless entertainment is some contestants’ high hopes for the “experiment” and the vulnerability they display in the process. Where Love Island is explicitly gamified, Love Is Blind bills itself as a path to a lasting partnership, even though the results are in: love isn’t blind. You have to wonder how long we will be expected to keep watching.
Love is Blind UK is on Netflix
