MAFS recapped by someone who has never watched the show before

The bosses at news.com.au made someone who has never seen MAFS before watch the finale. He was immediately out of his depth.

When the powers that be at news.com.au asked me to watch Married at First Sight for the first time in my life this week, I leapt at the idea.

I was drowning, you see, in coverage of the federal budget. MAFS was my salvation, a life raft to carry me from the ocean of dull economic forecasts and fiscal statistics; to banish the voice of boring old Josh Frydenberg from my ears.

Surely watching MAFS would be better. That is what I believed. I was younger then, less experienced, lacking wisdom. I didn’t realise I was trading one hell for another.

The brief was simple: you’re a guy who has never seen MAFS before. Just watch the most recent episode and then write about it.

Be warned: this isn’t one of those wickedly funny James Weir recaps you people are so rightly obsessed with.

If you’re after actual, competent humour from a guy who knows literally anything about his subject matter, here is a link to James’ entire catalogue. Enjoy!

Below you will instead find a pale imitation of his work; the stream of consciousness of a man who is floundering, clueless, striving to discern meaning and purpose in a world he does not understand.

Exclusive footage of the author approaching his couch to watch MAFS.

We begin with the same feeling all those inscrutable tables and numbers in the budget papers inflicted on me: overwhelming confusion.

A voiceover informs us that the Married at First Sight “experiment” is coming to an end after almost three months.

“All that remains are the final vows ceremonies, where our remaining couples will make the ultimate choice,” the disembodied voice says, in that sinisterly joyful tone all dating show narrators share.

Friend, I am married. I have done a wedding. You might say I am versed in these matters. Thus, I am aware that weddings do not take “almost three months” to complete. There’s no probation period before the “final vows”. It isn’t a job at KFC.

And yet, this show bears the straightforward title Married at First Sight. Married! At first sight! There is no room for interpretation there.

I expected a show about people who get married the first time they ever see each other – because that is what the words “married at first sight” mean – and who gradually learn what a ruinous mistake they’ve made, with their humiliation, irreversible mental trauma and bitter divorce proceedings painstakingly documented for our amusement.

That would be a fun show.

Now, having paused to consult Google, I discover they are not married at all. Instead, the people involved in this CHARADE hold a “commitment ceremony” where they pledge to see out the experiment, i.e. live together for a bit.

So they’re roommates. If they end up liking each other or getting bored, maybe roommates who do sex.

I know this is a conversation the rest of you had nearly a decade ago so I’ll stop the tedious rant now, but the show is not called Roommates at First Sight. We were, all of us, deceived.

Anyway. The first unfortunate union we visit in this episode is that between Domenica, Jack and their all-seeing dog pillow.

Behind you, Jack.

Its eyes forever open. Always watching, always judging, in silent, righteous disgust.

These two are in an absolute mood, and we soon learn why via a dramatic flashback to what I can only presume was a sloppy drunk dinner party the night before.

It seems one of the other contestants, Olivia, ratted on Domenica, revealing she’d complained to the other women about Jack’s lack of sexual stamina.

Nothing like a little public emasculation to fix one’s confidence in bed.

Is “contestant” the right word here, by the way? Is this a competition, with winners at the end? Because I’ve been watching for three minutes, and MAFS already feels like Russia’s invasion of Ukraine: unwinnable.

Much like Vladimir Putin, these sorry souls signed up for something foolish and self-destructive without thinking through the consequences. Now they’re losers, no matter what happens next.

But enough about geopolitics.

I was going to superimpose a sad Putin face here but it turns out that would involve paying money for Photoshop, so you’ll have to use your imagination. My wallet thanks you.

“Last night really took a toll on me,” Jack says as we come back to the present.

This is the same thing I say to my own wife every morning, with two key differences. One, I’m typically talking about the bottle of wine I inhaled, rather than public sexual humiliation. Two, my wife is a real wife, as opposed to whatever the people on this show are.

Jack goes on to agonise over another moment from the previous night, prompting another flashback, in which he asks Domenica whether she sees “longevity” in their relationship.

She looks at him as though he’s just asked her to explain the intricacies of quantum mechanics. A long, long moment passes. No answer comes.

Alternative explanation: she’s a robot whose internal CPU just froze.

Pictured: the author, watching MAFS.

That is where we leave seemingly doomed couple Domenica and Jack.

Next up are Ella and Mitch, who the narrator ominously informs us woke up in – gasp! – different rooms. Cue the dramatic flashback.

(As far as I can glean, this show is 50 per cent angry dinner party spats, 45 per cent flashbacks to the angry dinner party spats, and 5 per cent people crying about the angry dinner party spats.)

“I’m not the sort of guy who’s going to be out there and saying how I feel,” says Mitch, a man who voluntarily signed up for a show whose entire premise is to put him out there on national television to say how he feels.

Mitch appears to have a problem with commitment. Not just when it comes to women, but when it comes to choosing a way to sit.

Hmm.

Nah.

Maybe?

Ella proceeds to tell Jack about her feelings, which are legion. He displays his empathy and intense interest in the subject by absent-mindedly picking bits of fluff off his trackpants.

“How am I supposed to know how you feel about me if you can’t even try to tell me?” she asks him.

“I don’t know what else I can do,” Mitch eventually protests, having just listened to a minutes-long explanation of exactly what else he could do. Mitch lacks mental acuity.

Talking to the camera, as opposed to the immovable brick wall that is her ... husband? Boyfriend? What is he? I’m still not clear on that. Anyway Ella actually gives us a line that strays dangerously close to common sense.

“When two people meet, especially strangers, you’re not going to be the same. It’s just, how much are two people willing to work on something to make it work?” she says.

Sadly, the answer here appears to be “not at all”.

We shall return to seemingly doomed couple Ella and Mitch later.

Who’s next? Selina and surfer bro Cody, who says he has an “uncooperative schlong”. We watch Cody paddle out at the beach as the narrator quips that he’s searching for a “wave of clarity”. And that marriage of words and imagery, albeit lame, is the closest thing to a workable marriage we’ve seen so far.

Just out here searchin’ for that wave of clarity.

While Cody surfs, Selina is over at the crime scene where he committed a heinous act earlier in the series. It’s her mum’s house, and he clumsily broke a tea cup, and Selina’s dear mother is about to wreak her vengeance.

“He can’t really handle stuff properly,” she tells us. She’s mainly referring to physical “stuff”, like precious kitchenware, but I think we can extend that definition for most of the people on this show. Mitch can’t handle having human emotions, for example. Domenica can’t handle simple questions. Jack can’t handle more than five minutes. And so forth.

Mum’s more substantive complaint is that Cody doesn’t feel as strongly about Selina as she feels about him. His uncooperative schlong was the telltale clue.

That is where we will leave seemingly doomed couple Cody and Selina.

The next 15 minutes are spent on the reality TV equivalent of treading water: refreshers on the season’s storylines, and participants agonising (or at least pretending to agonise) over their decisions. These segments exist solely to let the network pad the runtime of the episode, and therefore squeeze in a couple more ad breaks.

You’d think, as someone entering the season at episode number 35, I would pay attention to these recaps in case they contain important background information.

Counterpoint: they’re dull. So I get up halfway through to pour a cup of tea, give the dog some scritches and put the bins out, without pausing. Unlike Cody, by the way, I manage to keep the tea cup intact. Call me whenever if you want any pointers, champ.

Eventually we reach the fake marriage ceremonies, which are presumably different from the fake marriage ceremonies at the start of the season, though the key point is still that neither ceremony is actually real.

To reiterate, in case the bosses at Channel 9 missed it the first time: I want legally. Binding. Contracts in my reality shows. Anything less is a cop-out.

We need to up the stakes in all of these programs. Got voted out on Survivor? Death. Failed to receive a rose on The Bachelor? Don’t deserve love, banned from dating forever. Broke up with your partner on Love is Blind? You get blinded. Resort to appearing on I’m A Celeb in a lame attempt to boost your fame? Compulsory dinner with Scott Morrison.

Real. Consequences. It’s the only way these reality show fitness influencer OnlyFans star wellness guru people will learn.

Where was I? Ah yes, Selina is the first would-be fake bride to emerge.

“My parents haven’t really approved of anything that I’ve done in my life,” she says.

“But now, I just feel like I’ve done everything now for 32 years to try my hardest to make them proud, and my love life has suffered because of that.

“I’m not going to sacrifice anymore to make my parents happy.”

This is genuinely heavy stuff that is perhaps best explored in a forum other than national television.

Side note: you know how politicians, when they’re trying to be super patriotic, surround themselves with a million flags? Something similar is happening with the flower situation here. Dial it back.

That face when your parents haven’t really approved of anything you’ve done in your life.

GOD BLESS AMERICA.

Everyone has brought note cards to the not weddings, which gives each person’s speech the same vibe as a Year 9 student who despises public speaking, but nevertheless must complete an oral assignment analysing the subtext of Othello.

Short version: Cody wants to continue the relationship. Selina lists a great many reasons not to, but agrees anyway. Somewhere, in the distance, you can hear her mum scream.

Next we have Ella and Mitch, whose ceremony is happening in a spooky garden, at night, instead of on the picturesque balcony. A TV producer would never play favourites, of course, but this is like giving one of your kids an iPad for their birthday and the other a box of tissues. And the box of tissues is probably haunted.

They say the ghosts of grooms left at the altar still stalk these woods.

Ella eventually emerges from the mist, like a spectre of weddings past. Mitch asks whether she’s “ready to rumble”. It occurs to me that I could be watching boxing instead of this.

“Okay, Mitchell......” Ella begins, with the air of someone preparing to let down a job applicant as gently as possible.

“You are intellectual across all areas. You are loyal, you show respect, you have ambition, you take risks,” she continues. Still have major job interview vibes here.

Eventually, she reveals she is willing to take her relationship with him forward, because he has “potential”.

His response is: nup.

“It’s difficult to see a bright future with you when the longer we spend together, the more difficult the relationship gets,” he says.

“How can we walk out of here as partners when, at the moment, I don’t see this as a substantial relationship?”

Those quotes make him sound like a bit of a dickhead (which he might be), but ultimately my dude recognises he is not what Ella is looking for, and that’s fair enough.

Also he wore cream pants to the not wedding, and such a man is not good enough for her.

And so we come to the final couple, Jack and Domenica.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Domenica tells the camera. This is an ominous thing for one’s bride to say on her not wedding day.

My favourite part of the lead-up here is the bit where Channel 9’s editors have very obviously spliced two quotes from Jack together: “Without a doubt, I believe,” CUT, “we can make this happen.” Such wizardry. Different tone of voice, and from the sound of it different settings as well. I’m sure no other viewers noticed.

Speaking of settings, this ceremony appears to be occurring on the Buckleberry Ferry (if you recognise that as the second Lord of the Rings reference in this article, jolly well done).

“How far to the nearest crossing?” “Brandywine Bridge. Twenty miles!”

The rain is pelting down. She takes off her shoes. “You are not barefoot!” he shouts in disbelief. Her feet are muddy. They’re both loving it. Jesus Christ this is genuinely sweet and it is actually doing emotional things to me.

They decide to stay together, and I am left to consider whether the premise of this article – that MAFS makes as little sense as the federal budget – is nonsense.

In the future, dear reader, you should probably stick to reading James Weir.

Twitter account: @SamClench

A better Twitter account: @hellojamesweir

Originally published as MAFS recapped by someone who has never watched the show before