The Real Housewives of Dallas are warmly invited to return to the party. Bravo shut down the show after five seasons.
“There are currently no plans to bring The Real Housewives of Dallas back next year and beyond that, nothing official has been made yet,” Bravo said in a statement.
That leaves the door open for a return, perhaps to stream on NBC’s Peacock, as The Real Housewives of Miami does after being canceled in 2013.
But, as Newsweek points out, even a return to the digital arena would likely require a fan campaign that – with a meager 337,000 viewers for the season five premiere and 578,000 for the season finale in May, a quarter of the shows in New York and Atlanta franchise viewers – probably won’t happen. Especially not in Dallas, which pretty broadly covered the show with its face or made it all bird.
CultureMap was all-in when RHOD hit the market in spring 2016 as a lively chewing gum TV – turn off your brain, grab your favorite carbohydrates and a bottle of wine, and spend an hour discovering and closing DFW hotspots laugh as the rich Dallas women dissolve Plano. In the first few episodes, we learned the fun new terms “Jesus juice” (white wine) and “charity world” and raised an eyebrow or two with botox at the amount of childish “poop and pee” talk we were exposed to. (Pour more Jesus juice! We’re having a good time!)
Despite low ratings, RHOD got another season, then another, and another. Performers came and went. On the screen, they fought like cats and accused each other’s husbands of cheating like dogs; threw parties and threw glasses; drank too much and refused to eat strange food; made trips to Austin and trips to Mexico.
Off-screen, the Dallas “Bravo-lebrities” launched beauty products and jewelry lines, and even launched a pink dog food brand.
There were some beautiful and meaningful moments, like LeeAnne Locken’s motion for the State Fair and a glittering but heartfelt wedding. Stephanie Hollman shared her heartbreaking experience of suicidal thoughts. Brandi Redmond left viewers on her journey to infertility and adoption.
But last season – filmed and broadcast amid the COVID-19 pandemic, economic crisis, racial billing, and the deeply divided political landscape – the show was upside down in ways it couldn’t really recover from.
In a world that is experiencing so many harsh realities, this reality television show didn’t offer the fun, high-carb, Jesus-charged distraction it could have. Instead, it became a tedious exercise of who could surpass “racism” and “non-racism” and “anti-racism” broadcast from the screen to social media.
In a year when nonprofits in the Dallas “charity world” were desperate for money and local businesses hunted for buyers, the show hosted a long, indulgent birthday party for a performer and had the women foolishly beating each other with sausage boards during the shopping expedition a local business.
And in an economy where so many workers lost their jobs and cared about their children in the first place, viewers were expected to feel sorry for a doctor – “housewife” married to a kajillionaire – about their guilt That she felt because she wanted to stay home more so she could take her kids to the family hotel for tea parties.
The audience literally shouted, “Look, lady. Stay home or not stay home. Make up your mind.
And then: So. Much. Struggle.
Mother-daughter fight, tequila shot fight, dim sum fight, who-is-the-greater-tyrant-fight, who-is-the-better-Christian-fight, secret barbecue-on-pizza-fight , you-insulted-bigfoot-hunter-fight … fights are as much a part of the Real Housewives franchises as designer bags, but Love for Birkin has had enough fights every night on nearby cable news networks since early 2020. During the pandemic-slash election season, they could have closed their exposed lips and done something interesting.
It was starting to seem like this once fun, chic Dallas people “fantasy” was just fake drama presented as throwaway entertainment in a world – and city – that had moved on to more valuable investments. Last season, RHOD wasn’t a feel-good escape; it was a convulsive crash-and-burn.
So, raise a glass of Jesus Juice for the fun that was the first couple of episodes, and hope the next Dallas set show treats Charcuterie Boards with a little more kindness.
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