My Roman Empire is burning

If you have been anywhere on the internet in the last few weeks, this may be the 500^th article you have seen on the demise of The Secret of Mormon Wives (SLOMW).

Only 2 years since its premiere, the main star, Taylor Frankie Paul, has landed in such dark controversy that the show is likely in jeopardy. Though the circumstances are more serious than anyone could have foreseen (so much so that I will not be getting into them here), the audience has known since the pilot that this show was not built to last.

For the record, I think the premise is genius. Combining influencer culture with the tradition and patriarchal values embedded in the Mormon church delivers a show of contradictions that mirrors (a highly glamorised version of) the complexity of religion in the modern era, with stunning lighting and imagery of Utah, naturally.

SLOMW is successful because it is not made for Mormons, but rather for the rest of us. It intrigues us with the absurdity of rules we never had to follow, entertains us with stunning and multi-faceted women, and explores something more universal than Mormonism – shame.

Since the release of season one, we’ve seen the women be condemned by the Mormon church for being immodest, berated by their partners for having careers outside of motherhood, and work through deeply traumatic histories of sexual abuse. You don’t have to be Mormon to relate to that shame, you just have to be a woman – although being raised with religion helps.

The audience loves the show because the women reject this shame, and we’ve seen them catapult to a level of fame and financial opportunity as a result, with the cast coming back each season with more opportunities, more money, and more excitement for their careers.

The conflict this creates in their lives and relationships makes great TV and clearly good money for the people bringing it to our screens. So, for 2 years, we have been spoiled with 2 seasons a year, a spin off at Vanderpump Villa, Dancing with the Stars, and (until it got canned), the Bachelorette.

By the time we sat down to watch season 4, the cast were at the peak of their fame and hypothetically, should have been at the peak of their happiness, but after the first episode, it becomes increasingly obvious that this is not the case. Not necessarily because of the fame, but because of the demands of the show and the way it has bled into their lives and relationships.

In the first episode we are forced to endure the chronic cringe of watching the cast’s male partners insist on the growth of ‘DadTok’ by capitalising on the business they used to make fun of their wives for creating and investing in.

Not only does their ‘leader’ insist they are ‘funnier than MomTok,’ he also feels the need to prove that their wives ‘don’t have a monopoly on social media,’ without any acknowledgement that their livelihoods (and followers) are reliant on those women. The prominence they are granted over the actual Mormon wives suggests the show has fallen, perhaps unintentionally, into the trap the women set out to escape – the centring of men.

The show digs itself further into the trap by focusing much of the season on the toxic dynamic between Taylor and her ex-partner, Dakota Mortensen. This takes precedent over many arguably more deserving stories about motherhood and careers, such as postpartum experiences and the celebration of the other women’s achievements.

In the weeks since season 4’s release, the cast has complained about their book tours, businesses or hosting opportunities being cut from the final edit in favour of DadTok or Taylor and Dakota.

When we do hear from the other women, a common theme of exhaustion runs through every opportunity they have from the demands of filming, running other businesses and raising young children. We want to be happy for their success, but instead can’t help but feel sorry for their fatigue.

The strategy of production and the network has clearly been to pump out as much content on these women as humanly possible while the show maintains success. They are likely paid well and enjoy the opportunities, but I’m sure most of us would also start to unravel in one way or another under such demands. Oh, and did I mention 3 of them are freshly postpartum? No maternity leave?

Though this has worked financially for a little while, recent weeks has brought into question how sustainable it is for the wellbeing of the cast and the longevity of the franchise, as the viewing experience becomes more vulnerable, uncomfortable and at times, intrusive.

The release of season 4 seems to confirm what the viewers have been warning about for a while now; we are just seeing too much of these women.

The show has been built on the over-exposure of the cast’s lives with high financial rewards, at great personal cost. The fatigue and blatant misogyny that lingered over season 4 was undoubtably a match struck on this show, but the controversies of recent weeks is likely the gasoline.