This essay was originally posted on Substack in April 2023.
In the spring of 2022, a solar contractor from San Diego named Ronald Gladden believed he was taking part in a documentary on the judicial process. Recruited via a Craigslist ad, little did he know that the trial would be staged, and each of his fellow jurors a paid actor. Gladden would spend the next three weeks in and around an LA courthouse, becoming the main character of an elaborate yet kind-hearted hoax.
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| San Diego solar contractor Ronald Gladden in Jury Duty (2023) |
Filmed like a documentary but edited like a workplace comedy, Jury Duty is the latest entry in a wave of high-brow reality TV that’s been quietly revolutionizing the genre, alongside Paul T. Goldman and Nathan Fielder’s The Rehearsal. It’s a social experiment that turns one guy into the hero of a specially constructed reality. While it might read like a prank on paper, the result is a simulation so authentic it would make Baudrillard blush. Most of all, Jury Duty is a creative and logistical triumph that will inspire TV producers, improv comedians, and experiential designers for years to come.
As a game designer myself, reality TV has me constantly guessing at what might be happening behind-the-scenes. Much like in a video game, the main character of Jury Duty is the one variable that cannot be controlled. The story is designed to challenge Gladden’s expectations, with each “NPC” nudging him towards an optional side quest – Todd’s social ineptitude, Noah’s girlfriend troubles – but not everything goes to plan. The producers admit they “scrambled to stay ahead” of their protagonist who, like any player, breaks things in unexpected ways. Mistakes happen, and changes need to be made on the fly. The series finale pulls back the curtain on this electrifying process, and I’m desperate to get a hold of the scripts.
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| Just one of the many scripts and schedules shown in the season finale |
On reflection, what impresses me most about Jury Duty is how the conditions of a reality TV production are implemented so seamlessly. James Marsden – yes, that James Marsden, playing a vain caricature of himself – attracts paparazzi, leading the jury to be sequestered. In legalese, this means the cast had to surrender their phones and stay together in a WiFi-less hotel, which is barely any different from the context of Love Island. “This literally feels like reality TV,” says Ronald Gladden during one of the show’s many semi-scripted misadventures, not knowing just how right he was.
Jury Duty is a delicate balancing act in more ways than one. With the exception of Marsden, the actors are all relatively unrecognizable; some faces felt vaguely familiar yet I was unable to place them, which tells you just how fine the line being trodden is. The cast responds masterfully to everything thrown their way, and their talents are on full display during the Margaritaville outing, that gets mechanically broken down in the show’s final episode. We learn that the actors had been permitted to drink only if Gladden did so first; cut to footage of them playfully encouraging him to order a mango cocktail, keen to let loose while secretly adhering to their invisible rules.
While the sentimental finale depicts Ronald Gladden as the “Hero” of the story – which is also how he’s referred to in scripts – he’s not the only good guy in the courtroom. Actor James Marsden emerges as a true sportsman due to the sheer humility required to fulfill his role. Over the course of six episodes, Marsden parodies himself as an insecure Hollywood celeb, feigning audition anxiety and taking Sonic the Hedgehog jokes on the chin. The show’s reveal is a celebration of Gladden, clearly, but it’s also Marsden’s redemption moment as the show’s loveable villain.
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| Ronald Gladden and his fellow jurors, including actor James Marsden |
It might be a wholesome story, but the hyperreality of Jury Duty cuts deeper than most reality TV, because it pulls the entire ground out from under its star’s feet. Ronald Gladden describes his experience as feeling like a dream, and even as a viewer, I experienced a profound sense of dissociation at times. As we watch Gladden realize the dozen or so kooky characters he befriended were all paid to be there, one of them responds reassuringly: “90% of what you saw is really a part of us.” The decision to let actors play a role close to their actual selves was a crucial ingredient in maintaining the show’s illusion, yes, but it also allowed genuine friendships to be formed.
Jury Duty is a fascinating experiment in main character energy, and I’m hopeful for a second season. Gifted fringe actors are in constant supply, and the format is flexible enough to adapt to other mundane life experiences, like a corporate convention or a wellness retreat. The real question is, can they fool us twice? If Jury Duty is renewed, the hardest trick of all will be to find another Ronald Gladden.
