Netflix knew exactly what it was doing with the title Dated & Related, so let me put your mind at ease: This is not a dating show about incestuous siblings. That said, the streamer’s latest foray into the reality dating genre is exquisitely awkward—and not in a good way. This drawn-out drag of a series showcases the biggest flaw in the influencers-as-reality-contestants equation: Some of these gorgeous wannabe C-listers might be entertaining, but far too many are painfully uninteresting.
Here, pairs of siblings from around the world descend on a luxury beachside villa in the South of France in the hopes of falling in love and winning $100,000. In spite of the family-centric pitch, however, the money does not go to the siblings who most successfully talk each other up. Instead, contestants must choose in the end who they consider the strongest and most deserving couple.
A fun, sexy, free beachside romp sounds like just the ticket for the ultra-humid dregs of summer, especially as Netflix’s hot reality streak continues. But there’s something utterly lifeless about this show—a hollowness of concept and a staggering lack of charisma that no amount of muscle definition can overcome.
Dated & Related feels a lot like Too Hot to Handle, another Netflix series with a vexingly contrived premise. In Too Hot to Handle’s case, we’re expected to believe that a group of people can’t keep their hands to themselves for one month in order to win a cash prize because they’re so hot and horny. (Really, it seems like they just don’t need the money that much.) Dated & Related, meanwhile, insists that siblings going on superficial double dates simply must be so awkward—even as its contestants drop that act after a couple days.
Coincidentally, Dated & Related host Melinda Berry appeared as a contestant on Too Hot to Handle Season 2. (Netflix’s effort to promote its reality programming via cross-casting continues apace!) As someone with 14 siblings, Melinda reckons she knows a lot about sibling bonds. Unfortunately, this new show feels more like a parody of a Netflix dating show than one anyone can actually be expected to watch. Even visually, there’s a lot to be desired; the villa looks expensive, but the decor lacks any real aesthetic sensibility. Ironically, for a show that should be all about hooking up, Dated & Related’s most boner-killing design choices were made in the bedrooms, where all the siblings sleep in side-by-side, pod-like bunk beds.
It’s not just that almost all of the contestants are instantly forgettable. (Although, to be clear, they are—apart from the delightfully playful Bishop brothers, Kaz and Kieran, pretty much everyone will disappear from your memory the moment the show ends.) It’s not even the number of times cast members scream about nothing in exaggerated excitement during their in-the-moment interviews with producers, or the aggressively generic music. It’s that for all the hours we spend observing the players of Dated & Related, the show struggles to capture compelling connections among any of them.
The presence of siblings might actually be part of the problem here; beyond all the faulty romances, Dated & Related also misses out on the accelerated friendships that can form among strangers on other reality TV shows because these contestants tend to lean on their siblings more than anyone else.
Given that this is a dating show, however, the lukewarm relationships are a far greater offense. The only couples with any real heat form early on and overtake the season, leaving the stragglers to scramble in their wake. Unlike Love Island or Bachelor in Paradise, however, the shuffling doesn’t create much intrigue; instead, the proceedings feel stagnant and, too often, futile. There would need to be way more people living in this villa for the show’s concept to work. And it doesn’t help that throughout the season, there also seem to be way more dudes than women.
Most pernicious, however, is the regressive streak that runs throughout the series—from puffed-up brothers vowing to “protect” their sisters, to a scene in which a pack of bros discuss how hopeless it is to understand what women want. “It’s impossible to read minds—especially girls,” a contestant named Jason informs us while seemingly quoting a stale stand-up set from some sweaty guy in the 1990s. “Because they look one way, but they feel a different way. … It’s just like, ‘Yeah, go out tonight, have fun.’ What they really mean is, ‘Stay here.’” Yawn.
At this point, Netflix’s dating shows tend to fall into one of two buckets: sincere ventures that rely on careful casting—like Dating Around, Love on the Spectrum, and Indian Matchmaking—and wackier formats that rely on over-the-top concepts. Some of the latter shows, like Love Is Blind and The Ultimatum, succeed thanks to savvy production choices (like picking the surprisingly excellent hosting duo of Vanessa and Nick Lachey for Love Is Blind) and their easy-to-love (to hate) participants. Others, like Sexy Beasts, start to feel a bit like brain rot. But hey, at least no one on this show is wearing a haunting animal mask.
