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New Netflix documentary about Jerry Springer reveals the highs and lows of reality TV

Jerry Springer rose to fame and fortune in the 1990s by presiding over a three-ring circus and a daytime television show, even surpassing reigning queen Oprah Winfrey in some ratings. While Oprah remains a cultural icon who needs no last name, I would argue that Springer casts a longer, if cheesier, shadow on the current state of media, public discourse, and even politics.

The kind of feud that arose between Springer’s show and Winfrey’s is among the most fascinating aspects of “Jerry Springer: Fights, Camera, Action,” a two-part Netflix documentary that delves deep into the primal mud that is “The Jerry Springer.” “Show” became a ratings sensation, with the enthusiastic audience chanting “Jerry!” Jerry!” Each time, the titular host strolled onto the stage.

“The Jerry Springer Show” anticipated a culture that packaged outlandish, boorish, and violent behavior as “reality” entertainment.

In a media environment that is now dominated by attention, the grainy highlights (or rather, lowlights) of “The Jerry Springer Show” are also reflected in the present. Members of Congress pick fights to create the viral moments that get them appearances on Fox News. Reality TV casts spill wine and argue during reunion specials (think “The Real Housewives” franchise).

Debuting in 1991, years before “Survivor” or “Big Brother” reached U.S. shores, “The Jerry Springer Show” anticipated a culture that packaged outlandish, boorish and violent behavior as “reality” entertainment. More than three decades later, America’s president-elect has built a huge following – and earned a lot of free media – by taking on a cartoonish and often antagonistic role.

Fights, Camera, Action reminds us that Springer’s not-so-secret recipe was modern gladiatorial combat. His favorite topics included infidelity of all stripes, incestuous relationships and oddities such as the man who “married” his Shetland pony. In interviews for the documentary, the producers admit that they encouraged guests to be as confrontational as possible, which regularly resulted in wild brawls in front of a gleefully cheering (or jeering) audience.

As “The Jerry Springer Show” climbed to the top of the syndicated TV rankings, Winfrey called the show “appalling,” an assessment that few media intelligentsia then or now would dispute. As The Hollywood Reporter’s Frank Scheck wrote when Springer died in 2023 (an event that drew more lamentation than the usual appreciation): “The show’s themes were a veritable smorgasbord of incest, pedophilia, adultery, hate groups, perversion and the worst of them Instincts of humanity.” general. Violence and nudity were commonplace.”

The year before his death, Springer apologized for what his show had caused, saying on a podcast that he had “ruined the culture” and then joking: “I just hope hell isn’t so hot, because I’m very burn easily.”

Admittedly, like most TV talent, Springer has taken too much credit – or in this case blame – for his show’s denigration of the public square. The documentary suggests that executive producer Richard Dominick’s “win at all costs” mentality was also a big motivator. Dominick once told an interviewer that there was “no line” he wouldn’t cross. “If I could kill someone on TV, I would execute them on TV,” he said at the time, according to the documentary.

Like most TV talent, Springer took too much credit – or in this case blame – for his show’s denigration of the public space.

Although there were no executions, the reality television genre popularized and perfected by Springer was marred by death. The documentary details the murder of Nancy Campbell-Panitz, who was killed by her ex-husband after appearing on the series in 2000. Another high-profile murder was linked to “The Jenny Jones Show,” one of many Springer-lite series that would populate the daytime television landscape. In 1995, Jonathan Schmitz killed his acquaintance Scott Amedure just days after he revealed his “secret crush” on Schmitz during the show. (Schmitz told police he shot his friend after he was embarrassed on television; he was eventually paroled in 2017.)

After his incredibly lucrative 27-season TV gig, Springer may actually have some regrets. But Dominick’s indifference to questions of collateral damage seems more representative of the series’ ethos. Nor should we overlook the complicity of the audience. The show’s high ratings—capped by its Oprah milestone—sent a message: Forget our better angels, appealing to our basest instincts was an equally acceptable recipe for success.

Jerry Springer is gone today. But the remnants of “Jerry Springer” remain in our media and political ecosystems – the aftereffects of a hit, at least symbolically, we can still feel today.

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