JERRY SPRINGER: FIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION. The Machine of Death

It was the early 1990s when NBC decided to air The Jerry Springer Show, hosted by a former presenter, local politician, mayor, and councilman who boldly revealed what lurked within American society. But was it limited to just that? Probably not. The documentary Jerry Springer: Fights, Camera, Action, now available on Netflix, explores how Springer’s show evolved over the years and delves into the deepest motivations of the host and producers for orchestrating such extreme confrontations on screen. Was it still television, or had it become a circus? Or perhaps, as Springer himself claimed, a realization of every American’s constitutional right to express their views, even those bordering on the criminal?

Where, then, are the boundaries? Can the right to express personal opinions contradict established law? Does someone suffering from zoophilia, advocating incest, espousing Nazi ideology, or indulging in other deviant behaviors have a constitutional right to their freedom of expression? I’ll set aside Springer’s so-called “normal” topics—mistresses fighting over a husband or a man publicly revealing his love for wearing diapers. Some might argue that yes, such individuals retain their rights until a court revokes them—that’s the essence of the rule of law. But giving them a free platform to spread their views is another matter—it’s akin to complicity in their potential crimes. This can lead not only to the dissemination of harmful ideas and behaviors but also to real crimes, as indeed happened. Freedom, therefore, must have limits, especially for a species characterized by self-awareness. What a paradox. The documentary traces this journey from freedom to total enslavement by the pursuit of ever more controversial topics, exposing along the way what an average person becomes when placed in a manufactured system of values and reality.

The Netflix production does not sugarcoat Springer. It portrays him in various shades, mostly negative. We see a man who squandered his family’s history and the fact that, by a twist of fate, he even existed at all. He could have been taken by the fires of war or the anti-Semitic ideology he would later exploit for profit in his programs.

The documentary paints his character through comments from his collaborators, tantalizing excerpts from his talk show, and reflections from Springer himself, where he insists he never harmed anyone. At least, that’s what he believed, as Jerry Springer likely lacked a coherent moral framework. We can no longer ask him, and he won’t be a viewer of the Netflix documentary either, as he passed away in 2023. However, he achieved a form of fame, evidenced by record-breaking viewership ratings, which no one can take away from him. Springer became a historical figure in television, and his show—a phenomenon not only in format and content but also in psychological manipulation. This is the darkest side of Springer and his team—not only did they find individuals with often the worst deviations to publicly share their stories, but they also manipulated, provoked, and exploited them, even blackmailing them and pushing them to the limits of psychological endurance, all in the name of ratings. It was doubly wrong. And this is precisely why Jerry Springer should have been removed from television long ago. Yet someone decided that money was worth any depravity. Someone far more important than Springer himself. He couldn’t have lifted a finger without NBC executives’ permission.

The documentary on Springer is both critical and historical. It’s good that such productions are made today because they warn us about what television can become—and what it should never be—regardless of what audiences might want. The technical structure of the production is standard. Former collaborators, relatives of participants, critics, and journalists speak about the show, Springer, and some of the events that were both the backdrop and consequences of the program. There is a wealth of unpolished archival footage, which gives the documentary a distinctive, chronicle-like feel. There’s nothing groundbreaking in this, as most documentaries today are made in a similar way, but it does lend the production a certain style. At times, the documentary feels like a crime series, leading viewers from the opening scenes to the ultimate revelation of what went on behind the scenes of Springer’s show. These are not isolated tragedies of people exploited by the talk show team but a whole complex machine designed to do this almost industrially, systematically, and deliberately to make as much money as possible.

I can’t shake the impression that Springer created something akin to a moral factory of death in television, as if subconsciously influenced by what his parents endured—but in a completely opposite way. This is an exceptionally vile summary of who Springer was, but when looking at the world and human morality rationally, it’s hard to assess him any differently.