Belgian reality TV masterpiece De Mol is back for its twelfth iteration, this time in the Mediterranean island of Sicily. There are many reasons to love this show, but for me it boils down to sophisticated production, thrilling asymmetrical gameplay, and the comedy that emerges from sending a bunch of grown adults to spy-themed summer camp (with one person among them secretly trying to sabotage everything they do). That, and the kick I get out of overanalyzing every episode for hidden clues about the Mole.
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| Charlotte keeping her cool in the ice cream delivery challenge. |
Normal people can be incredibly funny, and De Mol embraces that. There have been some unforgettable players over the years, and I personally can't help but feel a little more love for humanity at the end of each episode. Celebrity casts, by contrast—like in the Dutch version of the show—lack the roughness around the edges and surprising personalities that you can only get by turning a TV camera on someone for the very first time.
When it comes to emergent comedy, De Mol Season 12 has nailed the tone for the franchise, by striking exactly the right balance between silliness and subterfuge. It's a stressful, mentally trying experience, and while the spy thriller vibes are what make Mole-hunting so exciting, these must be disrupted by occasional moments of levity.
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| The face of two men who are about to ruin everyone's night. |
This season has had some wonderful character moments. Michaël and Senne instantly formed an iconic mischievous duo when faced with a box they weren't meant to open. Philippe wilding out to EDM in the back of the car, the women making fun of Bernard's cooking skills, and Stéphanie's improbable grimaces also come to mind. De Mol has always been blessed with excellent casting, so this isn't a novelty. What stands out to me so far in S12 is that the challenges themselves that are equally funny by design.
Game design for a franchise like The Mole is tricky to get right, because of the myriad factors to consider. Each challenge needs built-in opportunities for sabotage while also supporting organic attempts to make oneself look suspicious. Players should all get a chance to team up with one another, so they can bond, conspire and scrutinize each other's behaviour; but they should also be kept apart from time to time, so they can wonder "what went wrong" in their absence. On top of that, the games can't just be fun for players; they also need to make for good TV. This season succeeds at all of the above while leaning heavily into its own special Sicilian blend of satire and slapstick comedy.
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| Philippe names different pastas with the solemnity of a chess grandmaster. |
Four Belgians crammed into tiny Italian motors, angrily yelling the names of various pastas at each other until they run out of ideas. Pizza dough being tossed from rooftop to rooftop. One person desperately trying to explain to another that they have to put on more and more sweatshirts until they weigh exactly 75.4 kg—without breaking omertà. Each of these delightfully daft challenges is presented in a faux-serious light, borrowing heavily from mobster movies and film noir. And of course, all of this happens with the implicit understanding that one of these people is engaged in deep levels of deception. Is the lady licking the wrong ice cream the traitor of the group? Could the guy with the perfect goat impression actually be the Mole?
The Italian setting may lend itself more easily to the exact tone being stricken here; movies like The Godfather and video games like Mario Kart are referenced unabashedly for comedic effect. But it seems to me that many of these challenges are more elaborate by design than we as Mol viewers are used to, with a focus on enabling silliness just as much as sabotage. There's much more playful creativity going on here than, say, getting players to bungee jump blindfolded while memorizing local trivia, or allowing them to bet money from the group kitty in a self-serving bid to get through to the next round.
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| Lynn contemplates the fruits of her labours. |
Does this lighter atmosphere make it easier or harder to sabotage? Is it more or less difficult for contestants to hunt down the Mole? Whatever the answer may be, it's safe to assume that mixing banter and betrayal comes easily for the Mole. This leads me to wonder if the slight tonal shifts of each season—more chaotic in 2021, more intense in 2022—are a direct reflection of that year's Mole. If that's the case, then a playful, goofy personality might be the biggest clue we have to the identity of our Sicilian saboteur.
