Let’s talk about the strange alchemy of reality TV and dance. There’s something deeply human about watching celebrities flail across a ballroom floor, their egos clashing with the rigid geometry of a waltz. This fall, Dancing with the Stars returns for its 35th season, and if you’re like me, you’re already wondering: Who will stumble the hardest? Who will surprise us? And most importantly, who will make us forget how bad they are at dancing? The answer, of course, is everyone. But let’s unpack this with the analytical rigor it deserves.
The show’s return feels like a cultural ritual. Every year, we’re handed a new batch of stars—some with glittering resumes, others with questionable life choices—and forced to root for them as they try to avoid humiliation. This season’s cast is particularly intriguing. Maura Higgins, the woman who survived The Traitors by outlasting a bunch of people who probably still don’t know what a ‘traitor’ is, is joining the fray. Personally, I think her survivalist instincts will serve her well. If she can outwit a group of suspicious roommates, surely she can pivot from a cha-cha to a tango without crying. But let’s be real: Her wig collection alone might earn her a standing ovation.
Then there’s Ciara Miller, who became an accidental hero by being the ‘good friend’ in a Summer House drama that makes Shakespeare look like a rom-com. Her presence on the show is a masterclass in irony. Here’s a woman who spent her summer being the moral center of a soap opera, now forced to twirl around a ballroom while a judge screams at her. What makes this particularly fascinating is the contrast between her real-life drama and the manufactured chaos of a dance competition. Will she channel her inner ‘sweetheart’ or finally embrace her inner villain? I’m betting on the latter.
Jackson Olson, the TikTok-famous baseball player, brings a different kind of chaos. He’s the kind of guy who thinks ‘dancing’ involves moving his feet in the same direction as a baseball swing. His quote about ballroom dancing being ‘three hours of rehearsal block’ is both endearing and terrifying. From my perspective, this is the perfect storm: a man who’s used to throwing his body around a field, now forced to contort himself into positions that defy physics. I can already picture him attempting a lift and accidentally performing a backflip. It’s going to be glorious.
And then there’s Guillermo Rodriguez, the lovable sidekick to Jimmy Kimmel. His pairing with Witney Carson, the defending champion, is a calculated move. It’s like putting a seasoned pro next to someone who’s been on the show long enough to know the rules but not long enough to care. What many people don’t realize is that this dynamic could either be a masterclass in mentorship or a disaster waiting to happen. If Guillermo can learn to stop laughing at his own mistakes, he might actually have a shot. But if he keeps treating the ballroom like a comedy club, we’re all in for a nightmare.
What this really suggests is that Dancing with the Stars isn’t just about dance—it’s about transformation. Every contestant is a blank canvas, and the show is the brush. Some will paint themselves into corners, others will emerge as unexpected stars. The true magic lies in the unpredictability. A detail that I find especially interesting is how the show’s format has evolved over the years. It’s no longer just about who can dance the best; it’s about who can survive the emotional rollercoaster of being on national television. This season’s cast feels like a microcosm of modern fame: a mix of reality TV veterans, social media darlings, and people who’ve somehow managed to stay relevant through sheer force of will.
If you take a step back and think about it, the show’s enduring popularity speaks to our collective love for spectacle. We’re drawn to the idea of ordinary people (or at least, people who are technically celebrities) trying to do something they’re clearly not good at. It’s the same reason we watch people fall off horses or get eaten by sharks. There’s a perverse joy in watching others fail, and Dancing with the Stars delivers that in spades. The real question isn’t who will win the mirrorball trophy—it’s who will make us laugh the hardest while doing it. And honestly? I’m already rooting for the guy who thinks a waltz is just a fancy version of a slow dance.
