Love Island's brilliance lies in its Britishness – of course it won't work in America

It’s a funny thing when Americans stumble upon deep-seated British traditions and proclaim them a new fascination. Like the time football (or “soccer”) became cool among Brooklynites during the 2014 World Cup; US supermarket Trader Joe’s started selling a sausage roll under the guise of a “puffdog” and the New York Times inspired hysteria when they delivered a recipe for a “Dutch Baby” - aka, a Yorkshire pudding. 

Into this rich, patriotism-inducing tapestry steps a rather newer export: Love Island. On Wednesday, Los Angeles awoke to major entertainment news - the Oscars were creating a new category for the first time in 18 years, and US network CBS had secured the rights to make an American version of Love Island.

Now in its fourth series, ITV2 reality TV hit may have come in for its fair share of brickbats, but there’s no denying its popularity: 3.6 million viewers tuned in at its peak in July, the largest figures the channel has ever enjoyed. This summer, a smattering of European Love Island adaptations cropped up across Scandinavia and Northern Europe, and it’s understandable that the US would want a piece of the (steak and kidney) pie. As gleeful CBS executive Sharon Vuong trilled: “Having seen the reaction of audiences across the pond and around the world to this most recent season, we expect American viewers will be captivated by this engaging format."

Excitable network executives should be cautious before they start counting their projected ad revenues, however - just because Love Island triumphs on the humble British small screen, doesn’t mean an American version will translate as well.

As the first three seasons of Love Island have been made available in the US on Hulu, what has been intriguing to watch this summer is the slow trickle of US press clock on to the phenomenon.

Take, for instance, Vulture’s reality TV correspondent Brian Moylan, who found himself confronted with Love Island after moving to London. “I have found one glorious cultural oasis: Love Island”, he reports, “It has become a topic of national conversation tantamount only to Brexit, the World Cup, the royal wedding, and how unsufferably warm it is whenever it is hotter than 75 degrees (Fahrenheit, of course).”  In July, the New York Times explained to its US readers: “Love Island” has turned into a phenomenon, bringing millions of viewers to a minor TV channel, stoking chatter from pubs to Parliament, and becoming the go-to show for people looking to assess the state of British life, or at least pontificate about it.”

Meanwhile, US viewers have found the unbridled demonstration of our British ways utterly charming. Scottish narrator Iain Stirling may have proved incomprehensible, and terminology such as “mugged off”, “cracking on” and “proper fit” initially baffling, but this only added to the fun. As New Yorker Lindsay Webber put it: “What’s so fun about watching Love Island as an American, all the way over here in America, is the lack of context.”

There’s every chance, then, that giving Love Island a slick US makeover and importing dozens of models and personal trainers to, say, Florida Keys, may not elicit quite the same appeal. History would suggest that UK-to-US adaptations don’t always succeed. Take The Great American Baking Show, an American version of The Great British Bake Off, which struggled to lure 4 million viewers (the BBC original entertained a whopping 13.85 million at its peak) before being pulled off air after its equivalent of Mary Berry, Johnny Iuzzini, was accused of sexual harassment. Other uniquely British reality shows that have flopped in the States include Blind Date (floundered without Cilla Black), Jeremy Kyle (axed after just two seasons) and ITV juggernaut Saturday Night Takeaway (lasted just eight episodes).

It’s easy to see which winning parts of Love Island would fail to make it across the pond. This year, the much-dumped air hostess Laura and tedious carpenter Paul came a surprising second place, beating the beautiful and undeniably loved-up Josh and Kaz in the process. Why? Because the Brits love an underdog. Laura, the oldest woman in the house at a practically ancient 29, remained perfectly stoic and dignified as her partners passed her over for new incomers. We didn’t vote for her because of her connection with Paul, but because she had persevered. You can’t see American audiences voting for stiff upper lip over true romance in the same way.

Similarly, the unlikely survival of perpetually single Alex, whose gawky manner and bad chat-up lines proved televisual Marmite, is impossible to imagine in America, or indeed anywhere other than the UK, where we will readily applaud someone for awkwardly coming up with the term “doggy fashion”.

I found it telling that Moylan, a regular reporter on US reality TV trash such as The Real Housewives franchise and The Bachelor (the closest the US has to Love Island), commented on how calm the contestants kept in the villa. “Strangely enough, however, it rarely reaches Real Housewives levels of fighting.” I’d never even think of tuning in to Love Island for histrionic catfights or squealing. Instead, the beauty of the show lies in its surreal banality: of watching Jack leave the bed beautifully made for his girlfriend Dani; Laura quietly deliver a withering aside to her love-rival, (also called Laura); or Samira and Megan having a heart-to-heart over cheese toasties.

Because while Love Island is often criticised for its most base appeal - the sex, the senseless dating, the endless partner swapping - it’s the domestic moments that keep people watching as we fall ever more in favour with the contestants. It’s very difficult to imagine American broadsheet columnists upholding the moment a household name soap actor called his daughter “mate” via webcam on a reality TV show as “family goals”, but that’s exactly what happened in the UK when Danny Dyer congratulated his daughter - also named Dani - on Love Island this year. And therein lies its magic - it’s not a spell that can be easily cast anywhere beyond these isles.