Why Dancing with the Stars Season 35 Feels Like a Reality TV Reboot — And What That Says About Us
Let’s be honest: Dancing with the Stars isn’t just a dance competition anymore. Season 35’s cast announcement — a chaotic mix of Traitors alums, TikTok athletes, and late-night TV fixtures — reads like a blueprint for how reality TV is cannibalizing itself to stay relevant. Personally, I think this is the clearest signal yet that the show has abandoned traditional celebrity hierarchies. Instead, it’s betting on a formula that prioritizes viral notoriety over star power. And honestly? It’s fascinating to watch the cultural wheels spin.
From Ballroom to Traitor’s Island: The Rise of the ‘Micro-Celebrity’
When Maura Higgins and Ciara Miller — both breakout stars from The Traitors — were announced, my first thought wasn’t about their cha-cha potential. It was: How did a reality show competition about lying and betrayal become a farm team for ballroom dancing? But here we are. What makes this particularly fascinating is how these contestants represent a new breed of fame: the ‘micro-celebrity,’ whose 15 minutes are earned not through acting gigs or music charts, but by mastering the art of reality TV survival. Higgins’ viral wigs and Miller’s Summer House drama aren’t just memes; they’re résumés for this hyper-transactional era of entertainment.
This isn’t laziness by the producers — it’s strategy. By casting contestants who’ve already proven they can generate drama (and headlines), the show is essentially outsourcing its storytelling. In my opinion, this reflects a broader shift in media: audiences don’t want polished stars anymore. They want people who’ve already survived the cultural meat grinder and emerged with a personal brand.
TikTok Baseball and the Myth of ‘Transferable Talent’
Then there’s Jackson Olson, a Savannah Bananas player whose TikTok fame landed him on the dance floor. On paper, this seems like a stretch — how does baseball footwork translate to salsa? But if you take a step back and think about it, Olson embodies a modern delusion we’ve all bought into: that success in one niche domain (viral videos, sports) automatically equals adaptability in another. It’s the same logic that turns influencers into politicians and YouTubers into CEOs. Will he win? Probably not. But his casting is a masterstroke of relatability. If a guy who jokes about ‘not dancing on grass’ can make the leap, what’s stopping your cousin with 10,000 Instagram followers?
The Pro Comeback Kids: Sharna Burgess and the Nostalgia Trap
Sharna Burgess’ return after five years away is the one element that still clings to the show’s original DNA. But even here, the subtext is messy. Burgess isn’t just a pro — she’s a walking reminder of the show’s peak era, when stars like her were household names. Now, though, she’s competing with a cast that includes Adele Zaikman, a Next Pro winner whose entire career hinges on being a ‘discovery.’ This tension between legacy and disruption mirrors the entertainment industry at large. Does nostalgia still sell? Or is the future all about fresh faces who’ll quit their day jobs for a shot at a mirrorball trophy?
What This Cast Reveals About America’s Shifting Fame Economy
Let’s zoom out. The absence of A-listers (or even B-listers) isn’t a failure — it’s a pivot. In 2024, fame is less about talent and more about algorithmic luck. Dancing with the Stars is adapting by becoming a finishing school for the internet’s accidental celebrities. What many people don’t realize is that this season might be a test case for the show’s survival. If Olson’s TikTok followers and Higgins’ Traitors fanbase translate to viewer loyalty, we could see more reality-to-reality crossovers. Imagine Love Island winners battling Big Brother alums in future seasons. The dance styles might suffer, but the drama? Unmatched.
The Deeper Question: Can Dance Still Matter?
Here’s the uncomfortable truth lurking beneath the sequins: Dancing with the Stars is no longer about dance. It’s about monetizing the attention spans of viewers who’ve blurred the lines between talent, likability, and clout. From my perspective, this season’s cast is a gamble that the audience cares more about ‘watchability’ than artistry. And given the ratings struggles of traditional TV competitions, they might be right. But at what cost? When the mirrorball trophy feels secondary to the next viral moment, you have to wonder if the show is evolving — or just evaporating into the reality TV ether it now depends on.
Final Takeaway: We’re All Dancing on a Tightrope
Season 35 isn’t just another round of glitter and pirouettes. It’s a case study in how pop culture is collapsing into itself. Personally, I’ll be watching — not for the rumba, but to see if this hybrid of reality TV, social media, and nostalgia can actually work. Because if it does, we’re witnessing the birth of a new entertainment species. And if it fails? Well, there’s always Season 36 — and the next batch of accidental celebrities desperate to prove they belong under the ballroom lights.
