After monogamous relationships and teaser trailers, the Bachelor franchise’s favorite thing is to claim that everything from one of its programs is “historic.” These moments vary in how well-earned they are. However, on Thursday evening, the word was not overused. A 72-year-old widower named Gerry Turner took the place of a youthful, conventionally gorgeous male protagonist; he was also conventionally attractive. A class of female hopefuls no younger than 60 years old were there to court him. Together, they debuted the eagerly anticipated Golden Bachelor, a program for baby boomers seeking a second chance at romance.
Anyone who has spent even a brief amount of time in the larger Bachelor universe understands how important this is. The Bachelor’s appeal has always been ingrained in the particularly young, hot faces and bodies of its stars and competitors. This is due to the fact that the show has never been quick to mirror the ethnic and sexual variety of the real-world dating pool. The Bachelor is a show that has a severe allergy to older women as a whole: Women above the age of 40 have never appeared on the show, with women in their 30s being the lone exception.
The casting decisions made by the Bachelor producers now serve as a seal of approval for what is appropriate in the dating world after 27 seasons, several spinoffs, and a fan base so enormous that people refer to it as a “nation.” The establishment of The Golden Bachelor is a recognition by the establishment that, yes, old folks do fuck. In addition to fucking, they also lead complete, multifaceted lives that don’t end the moment they develop wrinkles or lose some ab definition.
The life raft that The Bachelor needs is becoming gray. Due to vetting concerns, the retirement of its veteran host over racially insensitive comments, and the fact that the majority of its competitors appear more interested in becoming influencers than finding love, the franchise has recently veered into unusually frivolous territory. Even those who watch the show just for the meta-appeal of how the writers and producers sculpt the story can detect that something about the well-oiled machine is operating on autopilot.
It’s difficult to take the characters or the show’s stakes seriously when the individuals you’re watching don’t appear serious. (You, Peter Weber, come to mind.) The Golden Bachelor’s appeal lies in the fact that many of the self-serving issues that have marred the Bachelor franchise appear to have been resolved by a generation of competitors who have 30 years to live, all the comforts of a boomer lifestyle, and far less desire to start a tequila brand.
Take Gerry, our Golden Bachelor, as an example. When Timothée Chalamet is placed in a period piece, do you notice how people comment that his face “definitely has seen an iPhone before”? Whatever the antithesis of that is, Gerry has it. This man, who had a soft Kermit the Frog voice and a retirement tan, probably didn’t even use a smartphone until he was 57 years old. His preferred words to describe the women on the show are “poised” and “elegant,” not “amazing” or “smokeshow.” And in typical Bachelor style, his life story seems like it was lifted straight out of a Disney film: He had a large family and a pleasant life in Hudson, Indiana, where he was married for 43 years.
He and his wife Toni closed on their dream home in the spring of 2017 with the idea of spending their senior years on a lake. But a month later, she was admitted to the hospital with a bacterial infection and died a few days later. Gerry’s account of this tragic tale is brief and easy to understand, as is the case with all Bachelor introductions. It’s not as if a producer didn’t assist him. But it was obvious that he was truly crying because of the tears in his eyes, the crack in his voice, and the gulp in his throat. And no amount of media training or experience staring into a front-facing phone camera can manufacture that kind of emotion, which offers him an uncommon level of depth for a lead.
The majority of the 22 ladies competing to be his bride feel the same way. Both their closest friends and grandchildren are battling cancer. They’ve been widowed and divorced several times. One of them even asserts that she dated Prince and served as the model for the 1979 song “Sexy Dancer.” These women don’t give off the impression that they are waiting for a proposal to start their lives—they have lived many already. That is not to suggest that they are entering this wildly created process without hopes, worries, or understanding of how the franchise works.
However, cynicism, gimmicks, and insecure feuds looked to be at an all-time low on night one, at least. With the exception of Jimmy Kimmel’s Aunt Chippy, April, a 65-year-old therapist who makes jokes about having “fresh” eggs, spanks herself, and clucks like a chicken comes the closest to being the villain or having a gimmick. I can only presume that this will harm her business rather than benefit it given her field of employment.
Even though these women symbolize all the flawed, unpredictable ways to find love in one’s latter years, the show is compelled to soften its edges with certain clichéd romantic tropes. The contestants are golden, not gray. And as if we needed further visible proof of it, the first woman out of the limo was a retiree with white hair dressed in a gold lamé gown. According to the host Jesse Palmer, Gerry, and a few of the contestants, they are looking for a “second chance at love.” Although it appears to be a third or fourth based on what the women have disclosed about their prior relationships.
There was a constant upbeat refrain regarding everyone’s athletic talents throughout the entire program. One participant said they wanted to meet Gerry because he enjoys playing pickleball. There was a euphemism term for hearing aids called “ear candy.” There was a lot of dancing, however, it wasn’t necessarily rhythmic. Additionally, there were a ton of references to sex. One charming participant named Natascha said, “Gerry is in great shape,” during a conversation. If we share a private moment, I won’t need to revive him.
Some of the premiere’s finest moments came from self-aware jokes like Natascha’s, despite the fact that everything is dressed up to be very formal. These senior citizens don’t take themselves too seriously and don’t mind making fun of themselves. One competitor used the word “dope” as if it were the first time she had ever used it while telling Gerry that her daughter had advised her to tell him that he was “dope.” He retorted that his granddaughter had informed him that he had “rizz.” The two of them laughed together, enjoying how out of touch they were. With a hint of irritation in his voice, Gerry confessed to his potential partners toward the conclusion of the evening that “this is the latest I’ve been up in my whole life.”
I came out of my Bachelor’s retirement to watch this season because of the devil-may-care attitude (or lack thereof). Perhaps it’s because smartphones didn’t permanently alter the brain chemistry of the candidates. Perhaps it’s because the cast was at its peak before the middle class in America shrunk. Whatever the cause, The Bachelor seems to be constructed differently this season. No one is vying for a spot on Bachelor in Paradise, tens of thousands of TikTok subscribers, or toothpaste sponsorships. Just a pickleball partner, early bedtimes, and a lover that won’t pass away during sex.