Love Island 2018, review: Casa Amor, cracking on and why the cheaters will never win

I didn’t watch Love Island last year. Yes, the show had become acceptable among the chattering classes, inspiring semi-ironic opinion pieces in broadsheet newspapers and thinking weeklies across the country, but I couldn’t be lured by the conversational flotsam of spray-tanned “slashies” (the millennial term for a Jack-of-all-Trades), nor their pursuit of true love.

And so in June, I embarked upon a similar summer of blissful Love Island ignorance. This lasted for approximately six days, when I too became trapped in a villa, only with relatives who were avid fans. Landing in the midst of Adam's conniving ways, I fell fast for the smartly edited cliffhangers and the oddly comforting banality of watching beautiful people do very little. And thus, I became hooked. It was like the Slow TV phenomenon, but with personal trainers rather than husky dogs or knitting. 

More seasoned viewers have loudly argued that the 2018 edition of Love Island has been boring in comparison to the previous three series. Everyone has been getting on too well, there hasn’t been enough drama, the contestants are too canny to the rapid increase of Instagram followers and protein-shake-based income they are imminently due. There seems to be some hankering for simpler times. That’s before we get to the increased scrutiny of Love Island’s producers in the wake of the death of former contestant Sophie Gradon – who was just 32 – which caused others who had been on the show to speak about the difficulty of life outside the villa and their treatment at the hands of producers.  

There’s certainly a discussion to be had about the life cycle of reality television (how long can we enjoy it guilt-free before we all feel grubbily involved in the game?) but the viewing figures suggest we’ve not wearied of the villa yet. Earlier this month, Love Island enjoyed a peak of 3.7 million – 2017 managed an average of 2.52, while the first series in 2015 lured in just 0.57 million. Clearly, the producers know how to keep people watching.  

That’s not to say, however, that the tasks, dates and stunts haven’t felt increasingly strained. This season of Love Island has often seemed more desperate than Alex did upon yelling “I LOVE CARS” at former cars sales rep Ellie Brown in an attempt to woo her. Contestants were made to regurgitate food more frequently than the new parents in March of the Penguins and perform more cheap strip-teases than the cast of The Full Monty. While the plastic baby task and the family visits were endearing and entertaining, these were all borrowed from the last season.

When the boys were sent over to nearby villa “Casa Amor” (another season three creation) to meet six brand new girls, and six new boys arrived in the original villa, new relationships were spawned and loyalties were broken. However, the producers’ subsequent actions – to mislead Dani over Jack’s behaviour with his ex-girlfriend, who had entered Casa Amor – were cruel and criticised by viewers. Those who didn’t successfully “crack on”, or find a partner, were swiftly thrown into reality TV landfill and out of our minds forever. Can anyone, for instance, really remember who Jordan was?

But those who survived eviction proved the highlights of 2018. They offered an intoxicating combination of unfathomably good looks (Megan), machiavellian tactics (Adam), unfailing awkwardness (Alex) and cheering good nature (Jack, Dani, Wes and Samira).

A grand total of 38 (38!) aspiring influencers were thrown into the villa, but only a dozen or so have kept us watching for two months. Air hostess Laura finished second not because of her connection with soporifically dull carpenter-turned-model Paul, but because she had stoically survived two dumpings during the course of her time in the villa. Actress Georgia will forever be haunted by the word “loyal” after repeatedly proclaiming it to be her raison d’etre in spite of kissing Laura’s ex Jack in front of several million people. Samira’s tear-stained resolve in the kitchen after being looked over yet again caused hearts to crack across the country. And instead of any firm bromances, the boys have bonded together in tender and amusing ways – I think the hours of surreal improvisation in Northern accents that emerged when the girls weren't around will remain the season’s highlight.

There have been few villains in the form of infamous “Muggy Mike” of season three. Instead, disloyalty in the villa has been more nuanced. Megan’s fans will claim that she has blossomed from insecure vixen to happy, fulfilled girls’ girl during her time in the villa; her detractors will only ever see her as a cheat. That a couple as enamoured as Josh and Kaz landed in third place is similarly due to the fact he met her while coupled up with Georgia.

But it has been “Dr” Alex, the clean-cut nerd from Wales, whose transformation has been most revealing. After initially struggling to settle in, he has bucked Love Island’s golden rule – find a partner or get out – time and time again. Instead, the 27-year-old doctor from Camarthen became the villa’s social glue, beloved by its original residents for his offbeat humour and fancied afar by those who came in later – only for them to realise that he was severely lacking in pheromones. Nevertheless, he persisted - lasting an incredible two months without ever falling in love. When he finally met Alexandra, who was besotted with him, his fear of commitment shone through and he became reviled by the public in a wholly unpredictable way.

And that was perhaps the most intriguing part of Love Island this year: seeing the public’s moral conscious sway with the actions of those inside the villa. Because while those in blissful ignorance of ITV2’s success story will pour scorn on the millions who watch it, they miss the real reason we all watch: the fascinating cat-and-mouse game of human feelings. Plus, it's undeniably fun! The antics on Love Island have left me laughing, gasping, sympathising and shouting at the telly – and judging by social media and the shift in dinner party conversations, I'm not alone. 

Having said that, Love Island definitely stretched that thin this year. A tediously padded 90-minute final epitomised the past two unnecessary extra weeks of increasing boredom as the settled couples went on orchestrated dates and clung on until the end. It’s been a ride, but I’m glad to have my evenings back – until, that is, Jack and Dani’s inevitable reality TV show arrives.