Inspiring Reality TV

Inspiring Reality TV Shows Through the Years

By Paul Asay

No one ever accused reality TV of being particularly—well, wholesome. Any genre that throws Speidi, "Hurl" (a now-canceled show on G4 where spinning contestants tried not to throw up), and Donald Trump's hair into our living rooms has some serious issues.

But not all reality television resembles shower mildew. Just ask the surfers who watched and heard Susan Boyle sing on "Britain's Got Talent," via YouTube. Boyle's rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" sent millions of viewers reaching for tissues and the replay button, and while Boyle lost the competition, she inspired an international audience. After earning rave reviews for her sell out Scottish and UK Tours in 2013 and 2014, Susan is embarking on the first part of her world tour.

Sure, reality TV has more than its share of tawdry, exploitative goop. But in the last decade or so, reality television has served up some of television's most heartwarming shows and inspirational moments. Here's a look at some of them.

Check out the first inspiring show...

'Amazing Race' (CBS)

This serial Emmy-winning game show, which pits a cornucopia of couples against each other in a race around the globe, features inspirational storylines every year—most through manipulative casting: Luke's deaf! Kelly has a learning disability! And so on.

But for sheer aw-shucks niceness, it's hard to top two teams from Season 10 in 2006: The Cho Brothers and Kentuckians David and Mary. The teams were about as close to Mother Teresa as reality TV allows, helping their competitors at every globe-trotting turn. The Chos even saved the Kentucky couple from early elimination by helping them win a race stage.

Neither team won, but they stuck around for a while and walked away with their dignity intact. The Cho Brothers even started their own business dedicated to "inspiring people to do kind things for others," according to their MySpace site. Who says nice guys finish last?

'The Biggest Loser' (NBC)

In a TV landscape filled with Machiavellian game shows stocked with duplicitous contestants, it's a rare program indeed that encourages hard work, healthy eating, determination, and sacrifice. Even explaining this show makes you sound like a lotus-eating Zen master—or perhaps Yoda: "To win, you must lose. Every loser wins. Eat less and filled you shall be."

"The Biggest Loser" is all about shedding some serious weight, and that these contestants do. In season 7, the father-son team of Ron and Mike Morelli lost a combined 400 pounds—and they didn't even win.

Everyday dieters would have a hard time duplicating the results seen on this show: Contestants go through a weight-loss regimen so intense it makes boot camp look like a Sunday school sleepover. But if "The Biggest Loser" inspires a few viewers to exchange the Twinkies for an exercise bike, well, that's worth it, right?

'Dirty Jobs' (Discovery)

It's amazing, when you think about it, how many jobs involve poo. And it seems Mike Rowe has done every one of them. You might say it's his...duty.

Rowe has inspected sewers, collected road kill, swept chimneys, harvested bat guano, wrangled ostriches, and performed scores upon scores of offbeat, often completely disgusting jobs—all while honoring the folks who do this sort of thing for a living.

"Dirty Jobs" offers a glimpse at some oddly inspiring individuals—"hardworking men and women who earn an honest living doing the kinds of jobs that make civilized life possible for the rest of us," as Rowe says in his opening spiel. But it also allows us to be thankful for our own jobs (assuming we have them). "Sure, rush hour's horrid, my boss is evil and my cubicle smells funny," we might say. "But at least I'm not collecting owl vomit!"

'Dog Whisperer' (National Geographic)

They dig holes in your yard, chew up your cross-trainers and piddle in your family room. Best friend? Pish. I've never had to lure any of my human friends back to the house with bologna.

But just when frustrated dog owners are ready to throw in their chewed-up towel and ship their pooches to the pound, in comes Cesar Millan—a mashup of Aristotle, Oprah, and a marine drill sergeant who specializes in human training. Oh, and he helps the dogs a bit, too.

Turns out, bad dogs aren't bad, really—just misunderstood. And by the time the credits roll on Millan's show, problem dogs become real household companions. Lots of reality shows, from "Supernanny" to "Wife Swap," dive into the world of behavior modification—but you're never quite sure whether those shows' happy endings are for real. Millan can't coax his dogs to wag their tails for the camera, which earns this show a dose of canine credibility.

'Extreme Makeover: Home Edition' (ABC)

There are three sure things on this earth: death, taxes, and the fact that someone will be crying by the end of "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition." They got the recipe for jerking tears down pat.

Take one down-on-their-luck family. Stir in host Ty Pennington and his cadre of skilled craftsmen, who ship the family off on vacation and launch into a comprehensive remake (and, in many cases, rebuild) of the family home. Add scads of donated materials and unpaid volunteers and cook for seven days. Finally, bring the family back to see their new digs—and get those tissues ready.

So the show can get a little schmaltzy. But give credit where credit's due: "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" helped scores of families live their version of the American dream and gave the cliché "home sweet home" new meaning.

'Miracle Workers' (ABC)

Starring on reality TV ain't brain surgery. Unless, of course, it is.

"Miracle Workers," which only lasted for five episodes, was "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" with bed pans: Seriously sick people—in dire need of expensive medical procedures—would be rescued by the show's cadre of medical professionals, who would whisk their subjects through some of modern medicine's most innovative, exotic treatments. And ABC would foot the medical bill.

OK, so ABC's motives probably weren't antiseptically pure. Some might argue that the network exploited some very ill people to goose its ratings. But don't tell that to the handful of folks whose lives were truly changed through the show.

"Even if the show does no rating," Stephen McPherson, president of ABC Entertainment, told The New York Times shortly before the show debuted, "we help a lot of people. In a day and age of mean-spirited, bug-eating shows, we've done something good."

'Ruby' (The Style Network)

Reality TV has its Ozzys and Snoop Doggs, its Lohans and Hiltons and Tila Tequilas. But rarely do you meet a woman like Ruby.

Ruby Gettinger is a charming, beautiful Southern belle who, when her reality show began, weighed around 500 pounds. After her doctor told her to lose weight or risk death, Ruby decided it was time to drop 300 pounds.

It may sound like "The Biggest Loser," but it feels more like "The Andy Griffith Show." Ruby's surrounded by supportive, faithful friends. Conversations bubble with laughter and faith and good-hearted gossip. And unlike "Loser," where contestants are forced to adhere to strict diets and endure marathon gym sessions, Ruby lives in the real world, learning to live skinnier in a place where food and friendship are intimately paired.

'Three Wishes' (NBC)

Forget the genie-in-the-lamp deal: Wishes in the real world are harder to come by. But Amy Grant and the crew of this short-lived show did their very best to make ordinary people's wishes come true.

"Some of the people have worked on other reality shows," Grant told Beliefnet.com in 2005, "… and it's very typical for somebody to show up at their first day of work and go, 'Oh, thank goodness, a guilt-free job. Not every reality show could feel like that."

During the show's run, Grant doled out wishes to Iraqi-war vets, beloved schoolteachers, beleaguered Little League coaches, and sick children in small towns everywhere. But the program couldn't, um, Grant, its own wish: To stay on the air for more than nine episodes. Ratings dwindled after a strong start and, despite online petitions designed to save it, the show vanished without so much as a poof.