Let’s talk about the curious alchemy of television reality shows—the way they turn ordinary people into cultural phenomena, and then package that chaos into something that feels both predictable and thrilling. Dancing with the Stars, now in its 35th season, is a masterclass in this art. It’s not just about dance anymore; it’s about spectacle, nostalgia, and the unspoken pact between viewers and contestants: you’ll be humiliated, you’ll be celebrated, and you’ll make us feel something. This season’s cast reveal, which dropped on GMA, is a case study in how the show balances its legacy with the need to feel fresh. But what does that mean for us, the audience? Let’s unpack it with a side of skepticism and a dash of enthusiasm.
The return of familiar faces—Derek Hough, Carrie Ann Inaba, Bruno Tonioli, Julianne Hough, and Alfonso Ribeiro—feels like a comfort blanket for the show’s die-hard fans. But here’s the thing: comfort is a double-edged sword. When a show leans too hard on its past, it risks becoming a museum piece. Yet, the judges’ presence isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s a calculated move. These personalities have become brands in their own right. Their critiques, while occasionally harsh, are part of the show’s DNA. What makes this particularly fascinating is how their roles have evolved. Bruno Tonioli, for instance, has become a cultural touchstone for his unapologetic campiness, a trait that resonates in an era where authenticity often means leaning into eccentricity. But does that make the show more engaging, or does it just paper over the fact that the format has been done to death?
Sharna Burgess’s return after a five-year hiatus is a story of resilience, but it also raises questions about the show’s reliance on veteran pros. Her absence was notable, and her return feels like a strategic move to inject continuity into a season that’s otherwise full of new faces. But why does the show need her? Is it because the audience craves familiarity, or is it because the producers are terrified of risking their brand on unproven talent? Meanwhile, Adele Zaikman’s inclusion as a first-time pro from the spin-off, Dancing with the Stars: The Next Pro, is a gamble. It’s a sign that the show is trying to diversify its talent pool, but it also feels like a desperate attempt to stay relevant in a crowded reality TV landscape. What this really suggests is that the show is no longer just about dance—it’s about survival.
Now, let’s talk about the contestants. Maura Higgins, fresh off The Traitors, is a wildcard. Her journey on that show—where she was the last Faithful standing—positioned her as a survivor, a trait that could serve her well on the dance floor. But here’s the rub: The Traitors is a game of deception, while Dancing with the Stars is a game of vulnerability. Can Higgins transition from cunning to earnest? Or will her past performance as a strategist make her a target for criticism? I’m leaning toward the latter. The show loves its underdogs, but it also has a soft spot for people who can cry on cue. Higgins’s quote about manifesting her dream on a vision board is charming, but it also feels like a calculated PR move. It’s the kind of thing that makes viewers root for her, even if they’re not sure she’s the best fit.
Ciara Miller’s inclusion is another interesting case. Her recent drama with Summer House—specifically, the fallout over her best friend’s romance with her ex—has made her a household name, albeit one defined by controversy. Her excitement about joining the show is genuine, but it’s hard not to wonder if the producers are banking on her notoriety to boost ratings. The irony here is that Dancing with the Stars often positions itself as a redemption arc for its contestants, but Miller’s story is less about redemption and more about being the center of attention. If she can channel that energy into her dancing, she might just surprise everyone. If not, she’ll be another cautionary tale about fame’s fleeting nature.
Jackson Olson, the TikTok-savvy baseball player, represents a new wave of contestants: the social media natives. His quote about translating his moves from the field to the ballroom is both humble and slightly disingenuous. Baseball and ballroom dancing are worlds apart, but Olson’s appeal lies in his relatability. He’s the everyman who’s suddenly thrust into a world of sequins and stilettos, a narrative that resonates with viewers who see themselves in his struggle. Yet, there’s a risk here. Social media fame is fickle, and Olson’s success on the show could hinge on whether he can maintain that down-to-earth persona while dealing with the pressures of competition. It’s a tightrope walk, and I suspect the show will lean into it heavily.
Finally, Guillermo Rodriguez, Jimmy Kimmel’s lovable sidekick, brings a different kind of energy. His partnership with Witney Carson, the defending champion, is a match made in reality TV heaven. Carson’s experience and Rodriguez’s charm create a dynamic that’s both entertaining and reassuring. But let’s not forget that this pairing is also a strategic move. Rodriguez is a known quantity, and pairing him with a proven winner ensures that the show doesn’t take unnecessary risks. It’s a safe bet, but it also highlights the show’s reluctance to take chances in an era where unpredictability is king.
What does all this say about the state of reality TV? It says that Dancing with the Stars is still a ratings juggernaut, but it’s also a reflection of a broader trend: the commodification of personal struggle. The show thrives on the idea that anyone can be a star, but in reality, it’s only the most marketable who get the spotlight. This season’s cast is a microcosm of that tension. There’s potential for growth, for redemption, for spectacle—but there’s also the ever-present shadow of performative suffering. As I watch this season unfold, I’ll be keeping an eye on whether the show can evolve beyond its formula or if it’s doomed to repeat the same dance steps, forever chasing the applause of a tired audience.
