10 Best Reality TV Shows Streaming On Netflix

We've all been there. You're sitting on your couch on a Friday night, scrolling endlessly through your streaming services, looking for something that'll take your mind off of everything wrong with the world. We all know that the quality of these shows can vary wildly, so it's sometimes tough to select the exact right brand of nonsense that'll help you unwind. When that kind of mood strikes, there's nothing better than a reality show on Netflix.

Netflix launched original programming more than a decade ago, and in the years since, they've become quite the destination for reality television. In fact, the company has been invested in launching bona fide reality stars, aiming to craft their own universe full of recognizable franchises and personalities. "They have way more respect now than they did," unscripted Netflix exec Jeff Gaspin told Deadline, noting that fans are even willing to follow stars from one show to another. That's all well and good, but if the shows around them aren't worth watching, recognizable personalities can only go so far.

Thankfully, Netflix has been more than willing to experiment with formulas, launching several engrossing reality formats that have helped define them as the go-to place for television that you don't have to put too much thought into. Their reality shows run the gamut from romantic to hilarious, from docu-soaps to strategic competitions, proving that there's always people willing to open their lives up to national television in the hopes of becoming famous.

Reality competition shows have been around almost as long as reality television itself. "Survivor" now airs super-sized episodes full of Easter eggs for longtime fans, and even "American Idol" came back from cancellation. However, plenty of competition shows sprang up in the wake of "The Great British Bake-Off," aiming not to be cutthroat but pleasant, easy television.

Enter: "Blown Away," a Canadian reality show all about glassblowing. In each episode across multiple seasons, including a "Blown Away: Christmas" spinoff, the contestants are given a theme and are then set loose in a warehouse. They dip, twirl, fire, and shatter their creations, sweating profusely, all in an effort to sculpt something magnificent before time runs out.

It's not dissimilar to watching videos of people playing with slime on TikTok. There's a soft, lulling quality to the show, a comforting glow that emanates from the furnaces that turn gloopy liquid into molten glass. Of course, "Blown Away" also involves quite a fragile art, so there's an element of danger to it, too. Just when you've been calmed by the shapes and colors blossoming on screen, someone will drop something they've meticulously spun for an hour, and suddenly they'll be racing against the clock to be able to present something to the judges. Good-natured contestants and an element of danger? Count us in.

"The Circle" premiered on Netflix in January 2020, and it's almost like the show was preparing us for what our lives would soon become. It's a reality competition show that traps each player in their own apartment, communicating only on an app (also called The Circle). They battle loneliness, boredom, and each other, chatting their days away in an attempt to build relationships. Some of them are authentic, playing the game as themselves; others are catfishing, using someone else's photos and a fake personality to get in good with the others.

This is a social strategy game all about being likable, so as the players spin out with paranoia, they have to maintain an online facade that makes the group want to keep them around. At regular (or, occasionally, irregular) intervals, they all have to rate one another; the top two players become "influencers," and the others are in danger of being "blocked."

Like many Netflix reality shows, the drama on "The Circle" tends to be relatively low-key. Still, that's precisely what makes the show so engaging. As the contestants try to roll with the punches delivered by each new social media-themed twist and competition, the show does an excellent job crafting characters you'll care about. Each one is forced to confront the disparity between who they are for the cameras and who they are online, and it's hard not to care about several of them strongly by the time the seasons come to a close.

There are plenty of reality shows like "Love Is Blind," but there is only one "Love Is Blind." Like "The Circle," it premiered early in 2020, seeming to understand that terrible year before we understood it ourselves. The show is kind of like "The Voice" meets "The Bachelor," beginning with an extended run of episodes where the contestants must date while being unable to see one another. Stuck in "the pods," they go on dates separated by a frosted glass window, where they can hear one another's voices but are unable to judge potential partners based on looks. Then, once they decide to get engaged, they're allowed to meet.

The idea is that hosts Nick and Vanessa Lachey are looking to find out whether love is blind. How much do looks matter in the modern dating world? 10 seasons in, it's pretty safe to say that love is not, in fact, blind; most of these people turn out to despise one another, each crop of romantic hopefuls somehow finding new, unusual ways to treat each other terribly each time the show returns. It's sort of like what made early seasons of "The Real World" so delicious; it's all about the personalities we put on to fool other people, and then it's about what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real.

Netflix has revived a few reality show formats, including "Temptation Island." The most creatively-successful renewal, by far, is "The Mole," the streamer's update of the hit competition show from the early 2000s. Each season features a number of contestants who are tasked with completing missions that add money to a prize pot. Someone in the group, however, is a plant from production, out to sabotage the group's attempt to build up their winnings.

Both seasons of "The Mole" have featured excellent casting, and the show makes you wonder whether any given interview is an actor lying straight to the camera. It's all about the lengths people will go to try to suss out suspicious people; anything, when viewed in the wrong light, could be taken as evidence of "mole-ish" behavior. Mess up a mission because you're not good at mental math? Good luck convincing your fellow contestants that it was a simple mistake. Do you often mix up left and right, even though you told everyone you're a pilot? (Seriously, Season 1's Joy is one of the best reality characters in Netflix history).

"The Mole" is one of the best shows like "The Traitors," where you're constantly keeping track of who said what to whom, watching for the extravagant locations but also for who is going mad from paranoia. There's nothing quite like the reveal at the end of a season, encouraging you to watch it all over again knowing the Mole's identity.

"Nailed It!" is a baking show, hosted by the delightful comedian Nicole Byer, featuring amateur bakers who have no idea how to read a recipe. They're given deceptively simple challenges like the ones you'd see on any other baking show, recreating fabulous cakes, ornate cupcakes, decoration-heavy cookies, and more. Though the show gives them a fully stocked kitchen, detailed instructions, and several advantages, most of them manage to turn their baking adventures into culinary catastrophes.

Whereas other shows might be asking us to point and laugh at these people who can't do anything right, they're all, charmingly, in on the joke. No one expects them to do well, so when one of them manages to stumble on something edible, it's treated like a genuine cause for celebration. When Byer takes a bite of something grotesque, it's even funnier; some of the contestants are almost proud of how flamboyantly they can futz up a flambé.

Unfortunately, the series ran into on-set contractual disputes, so it's no longer in production. Still, numerous seasons of the original show and its several themed spinoffs are available to watch, standing as a testament to "Nailed It!" being one of the best baking shows on streaming. There were many imitators in its wake; and "Is It Cake?" probably comes the closest to recapturing the zaniness, but those people at least know what they're doing.

There are few shows like "Pop Star Academy: KATSEYE" on Western television, which makes it a must-see for any fans interested in learning how reality shows work elsewhere. This is sort of a show about a show, following the contestants behind the scenes of a show called "Dream Academy" that attempted to form a global K-Pop girl group for the record label HYBE. The series tracks these girls over a shockingly long period of time, watching as they are put through their paces, given dance lessons, vocal training, and are subjected to intense scrutiny from the audience when the show they're on finally premieres. It's some pretty gnarly stuff.

Whereas many singing competition shows fail to launch recognizable personalities, Katseye have become genuine superstars; they are, after all, the dancers in Gap's viral "Better In Denim" ad. That alone makes "Pop Star Academy" a fascinating document, as we don't often get to see how acts like this are molded by record labels.

The show is especially interesting if you are already familiar with which girls wind up in the group. It's fascinating to see the show's scattershot selection process finally zero in on the ones who would win. It feels like watching old episodes of "American Idol," watching Kelly Clarkson before she was Kelly Clarkson. Of course she's the one with star power!

In 2018, Netflix resurrected "Queer Eye," which originally ran on Bravo as "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy." Queer rights have evolved since the early 2000s, so this new incarnation of the show didn't only focus on straight contestants; this version of the Fab Five is happy to help anyone! The show features people who are down on their luck, dealing with trauma, fighting off loneliness, or something far worse. They get a style makeover, a home renovation, some therapy, and some culinary lessons, and we're left with the impression that their lives have been forever changed.

At first, the show felt like a balm during the first Trump administration, a reminder (or fantasy?) of a time when we could all get along if we could just set aside our differences and work together to lift each other up. As the show stretched on through the pandemic and what came after, "Queer Eye" was occasionally a bright spot, a reminder that there were more helpful days behind us that might one day come again.

These days, the show's premise has worn a bit thin. The off-screen drama has become more engrossing than the show itself; Bobby Berk left the Fab Five and was replaced, and Karamo Brown shocked his castmates by accusing them of behind-the-scenes bullying as the final season premiered. Still, there's no denying that it's a seminal show in the Netflix reality canon, perhaps made all the more interesting in retrospect.

When "Selling Sunset" premiered, soap star Chrishell Stause was riding high. She was the new agent at The Oppenheim Group, the point-of-view character who would lead viewers into the high-pressure, high-value real estate business of the Sunset Strip. Over the course of the series, Stause has gotten divorced, dated her boss, feuded with just about everyone else at the office, come out as queer, and found love with Australian musician G Flip. The cast has ebbed and flowed around her — for example, fans everywhere were disappointed when Davina Potratz left "Selling Sunset" – but the show has managed to continue delivering on juicy arguments unlike little else.

Sure, some fans wish the show would focus more on the jaw-dropping feats of architecture that these women are selling for millions of dollars. The show has upped the ante in this respect, adding drone flyovers and lavish photography of these homes most of us will never see with our own eyes.

That being said, many "Selling Sunset" fans watch for the drama, and there's nothing else quite like it on Netflix. In Season 9, series villain Nicole Young crossed a line so severe, she was forced out of the show. In fact, the dinner party episode where it all went down rivals the best of the "Real Housewives" franchise for gasp-inducing quotability. Other Netflix reality shows can come and go, but, long live the O Group.

Like "The Circle" and "Love Is Blind," "Too Hot To Handle" premiered early in 2020, right when we needed it most. The series strands a number of sexy singles on an island, gives them time to get to know one another — and to become attracted to one another, which doesn't take long — and then reveals the rules. A sadistic Alexa-like overlord named Lana rules "Too Hot," and she doesn't like any hanky-panky. These buff boys and bikini-clad beauties aren't allowed to touch each other, and if they do, the whole group loses out on the prize money.

Early in 2020, we could all relate to how touch-starved these fame-hungry contestants quickly became. Years on, "Too Hot To Handle" still works as a format, because who doesn't love watching attractive people break the rules?

Plus, there are several "Too Hot To Handle" couples who are still together. It's sort of the anti-"Love Is Blind," in a way. If you make people stare at each other, nearly naked, for extended periods of time, they'll find true happiness away from the prying eyes of Lana... or something like that. Hey, it's no "Love Island," but it requires way less of a commitment to watch, and we can all do with a little less commitment in our lives. That's a lesson the "Love Is Blind" cast could learn, come to think of it!

Many of the shows on this list are iconic brands in the Netflix ecosystem, long-running hits that have helped define what "Netflix" means as a destination for reality television. That's not the case with "Westside," a show that came and went with little fanfare in 2018. Back then, the Netflix execs would give anyone a show if you managed to get a meeting with them, presenting nothing but a hope and a dream.

That free-for-all atmosphere produced "Westside," an eight-episode docu-soap that follows aspiring singer-songwriters trying to make it in Los Angeles. The series revolves around a showcase planned by Sean Patrick Murray, who has roped a number of friends and acquaintances into participating. As they each try to craft the perfect song and performance for the climactic night, the series dives into their lives, produces music videos with them, and blends heartbreaking stories of alcoholism and anxiety with lighthearted banter among friends.

"Westside" is an odd duck, but that's precisely what makes it so interesting. The music videos are sometimes incorporated into the show like musical numbers are on Broadway, featuring the characters interrupting their daily lives to break into song. It's a blend of documentary and fiction that provokes questions about what gets to count as "reality," anyway. Isn't this all performance anyway? To paraphrase the Bard, is all the world a stage, and we, merely players?