★★★☆☆
The press hasn’t been kind to the BBC’s recent contest-based reality show, Ultimate Wedding Planner. The Guardian was particularly scathing:
“This pointless, trashy slog of a series sees wannabe organisers of nuptials badly struggle to run couples’ big days – judged by Fred Siriex. It’s so irritating it will make you need a lie down.”
Yes, there are some toe-curling moments of irritation inflicted by both the judges and contestants. However, I don’t think the irritating parts necessarily outweigh the overall entertainment factor of the show. The levels of bitchiness on this show are Love Island-worthy.
Drama aside, the contestants demonstrate so much incredible creativity and innovation in this show, and it is essentially one large Pinterest board for anyone in need of any wedding (or any event for that matter) inspiration or ideas. While I have absolutely no plans to get married any time soon, I now feel equipped with the expertise to coordinate a cracker of a day.
A straightforward format
The show consists of six episodes—one episode per wedding—and follows a relatively simple format. It’s basically like Bake Off but for weddings. The team of planners (who have varying levels of experience in the industry) meet each couple who have some plans in place for the day, like the venue, but don’t have the budget to plan the rest. They tell the planners, who have a budget of £10,000 for each wedding, about themselves, and suggestions for a theme.
A head planner is then selected by the head judge, Raj Somaiya (I’m assured he’s a big wig in the wedding planning industry), to lead the team, which is split into two smaller teams. The first is the design team, which looks after all the design and decor elements like table centrepieces, favours, flower features, couple emblems, the aisle—the list goes on. The second team is the experience team, who, as you may have guessed, look after all the experiences throughout the day. Think engraving stations, vintage car convoys, Bridgerton-style horse and carriages, cocktail bars, (disastrous) champagne fountains.
As mentioned, all of the planners (there are eight to begin with before they are culled one by one) arrive with very different CVs. There is Yasmin the florist; Chantelle, a former hairdresser; Toby, a former dancer; Berni, the celebrant; Charlene, a civil servant; Jack, a wedding DJ; Tash, a prop maker, and Shabana, who is a financial analyst.
The only person who puts their hand up in the first episode to volunteer as head planner is Yasmin (who my friends and I nicknamed YasMEAN—you’ll see why). The wedding in the first week takes place under the actual Concorde, which is based at Manchester Airport’s Runway Visitor Park. The adorable couple whose wedding it is share a love for aviation—the groom proposed while they were plane spotting with a model aeroplane which said: “Will you marry me?” I was already crying, to be honest.
The pair are passionate about having floral features at the venue to achieve a “Concorde lost in the forest” aesthetic, so, naturally, Yasmin the florist feels she is the superior candidate for head planner. Although she doesn’t put her own hand up, Shabana questions whether Yasmin is cut out for the people management side of the role—this is the start of an intense rivalry between the two women.
Predictable and a bit basic
The narrative arcs of each episode are pretty predictable. Planners bicker over ideas, they get to work late because of said bickering, they can’t possibly get everything done in time, the judges sneer at their progress, surprise — they do get everything done in time.
At times, the judging also seems a bit arbitrary. There are several things outside the planners’ control, which the judges sometimes use as scapegoats if they can’t find anything else obviously wrong. For instance, in one episode, the couple have already organised and paid for a fish and chip van for their catering. The issue with this is every single (very hungry) guest has to wait in line—some for nearly two hours. The judges decide to vilify one planner for not finding a solution for the very British issue of this queue, which just isn’t fair at all.
Every time the judges have a discussion on elimination day about who to send home, they turn their backs and whisper about the planners, who are standing right next to them, like children in the playground. Paul and Pru would never.
Some moving moments
I’m not sure all that really matters, though. Sometimes all I want from the TV after a long day is to be swept along by an easy-to-follow programme format with a bit of drama, some cool creations, bitchy judges, and a happy couple.
There are actually some really emotional moments, too. Several of the couples have really been through it and it’s lovely to see their final reactions to the day. Notably, in the first episode, the planners’ nod to the bride’s mother, who had passed away the previous year, with a labelled chair in the front row. In a later episode, when the bride’s grandfather was too ill to attend, Yasmean became Yasnice when she called him to ask for his words of wisdom and advice to relay to the bride on her wedding day. There were several points in the series where I shed a genuine tear.
In defence of “trashy” TV
From a 1950s vintage wedding in one of the UK’s oldest cinemas to an autumnal fantasy Caribbean wonderland, you see incredible craftsmanship from the planners (prop maker Tash is a standout in this department). While there may be a few “trashy” moments, it’s certainly not “so irritating it will make you need a lie-down.”
Fred Siriax told Prima Magazine: “You can sit there with a cup of tea or a glass of wine and just watch it without worrying about the world,” which I think is a very apt description. It’s not mindless to the extent of being pointless, but you don’t exactly have to concentrate super hard either.
So, put the kettle on and get ready to become passionate about flower arrangements. You won’t regret it.
Words by Hannah Bradfield
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