Smize and Scrutiny: America’s Next Top Model Revisited

by Kathia Woods

Netflix’s three-part documentary “Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model” arrives at a moment when audiences are finally demanding accountability from the reality television industrial complex. Over nearly three hours, directors Mor Loushy and Daniel Sivan compile damning evidence of psychological manipulation, exploitative production practices, and harmful beauty standards that damaged real women’s lives. The documentary successfully catalogues the harm. Where it fails is in holding the architects of that harm truly accountable.

The show has interviews with former contestants, judges Jay Manuel and Miss J. Alexander, photographer Nigel Barker, and Tyra Banks, who created and hosted the show. These people discuss a show that started out with noble intentions: to bring diversity to an industry known for its strict standards that kept women out. But it quickly turned into a show that often took advantage of the women it said it was empowering. Contestants say they were forced to make drastic changes to their looks that they didn't want to, had photo shoots that crossed ethical lines, and were judged by panels that used their power like weapons.

The documentary is most effective when it focuses on the participants' voices, particularly those of Black women who faced additional scrutiny. They claim that individuals informed them their natural hair was "unprofessional," that they were forced into stereotypical roles, and that they were chastised for being "too aggressive" or "not Black enough." These testimonies demonstrate that ANTM's professed commitment to diversity was frequently tokenism disguised as clichés about "breaking barriers." The show's mixed signals about representation had a significant impact on the young Black women watching. This is possibly the most upsetting aspect, given that Banks has frequently spoken about the marginalization she faced as a Black model in a mainly white environment, only to support those same institutions for the sake of ratings.

But "Reality Check" further fails because it treats these new facts like a look back instead of an investigation. Banks is in the documentary a lot, admitting to mistakes and saying he's sorry, but the questions never go deep enough. She can say that she was a well-meaning pioneer who just didn't know better at the time. This story doesn't seem to be enough when you look at the evidence of systemic harm that the documentary itself shows.

The truth is that Banks wasn't an innocent bystander; she was the show's creator, executive producer, and public face. She had power, and she used it. The documentary needed to ask more questions about who was to blame: for all her noble intentions, the damage was substantial.

The viewers get moments of insincere regret due to the fact that the documentary allows Banks to control her narrative, positioning her as both architect and reformer without fully interrogating the contradiction. It’s the same pattern we’ve seen in other reckonings with problematic entertainment: acknowledgment without consequence, remorse without restitution.

The judges are treated similarly. Manuel and Miss J. voiced discomfort with some of the show’s more egregious moments but did nothing to make things better. Manuel, like Banks, often was dismissive of the mental toll some of the challenges took on the girls. They too fail to acknowledge their part in the fiasco.

The documentary had all the pieces needed for a truly incisive examination. The testimonies are powerful. The archival footage is damning. Regardless of how Banks attempts to spin things, the abuse occurred right in front of her eyes, and when the girls asked for help, she was dismissive.

This problem is a critical matter because "America's Next Top Model" was not merely a television program; it was a cultural influence that altered the perceptions of beauty, success, and value of millions of individuals.

This was more than an overly produced show; this was one of the world's most successful models perpetuating outdated standards.

The documentary ends with vague references to "learning" and "growth," but being responsible is more than just saying you did. It necessitates substantial transformation, restorative measures, and the readiness to confront uncomfortable realities devoid of the pretext of benevolent intentions. "Reality Check" gives us the first two but not the third.

In an era when we’re finally demanding that entertainment be reckoned with its impact, “Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model” represents a missed opportunity. It offers a catalog of harm when what we needed was a reckoning with power. The contestants who bore the brunt of ANTM’s excesses deserved a documentary willing to ask the hardest questions of those who profited from their pain. Instead, they got a retrospective that mistakes reflection for accountability.

What makes matters worse is that Banks didn't agree to do the documentary simply to atone; however, she is utilizing it as a reboot. This is extremely dangerous due to the fact that in today's media frenzy young women are more vulnerable than ever for validation and fame. Audiences have become more salacious than ever, and a television host/producer with no oversight and accountability is truly a recipe for disaster. Banks, like many television shows from the past, needs to acknowledge that America's Next Top Model is a phenomenon that does not require revival, and she, as a businesswoman, must find a new venture because there is an endless line of young women still recovering from the damage she caused.

The documentary arrives on Netflix February the 16th.