Hype House is nothing but a mess of insignificant drama


Thomas Petrou

Hype House tv show poster

Nine twenty-year-olds lavishly living in a lush, five-million-dollar mansion residing in the Hollywood Hills—what exactly could go wrong? 

In December of 2019, a group of TikTokers and self-named “influencers” compiled their money to invest in a house where all the members could collaborate to create content for their various TikTok, Instagram accounts, and YouTube channels. Not too long after, the drama began to fill up my Twitter notifications: “Chase Hudson cheated on Charli D’Amelio,” “Nikita Dragun blackfishing,” and “Addison Rae’s new boyfriend?”

Immediately, they swamped viewers into a pool of begging for more action and entertainment. Views on their posts skyrocketed as fans begged for more enticing drama. Profiting off their popularity, Netflix signed a deal with “Hype House” to create and produce a TV show documenting these influencers’ lifestyles. 

Starting this series simply for giggles, my initial thoughts on these self-proclaimed celebrities changed immensely, and not in positive ways.

When I first pressed play on the remote, my TV screen was invaded with faces I didn’t even recognize. Who were these presumed A-listers? I was only aware of the original Hype House members: Kouvr Annon, Alex Warren, Thomas Petrou, Vinnie Hacker, Larri Merrit, and Nikita Dragun. Why are there irrelevant, no-names starring in this show?

This show excessively bothered me for more reasons than just Mia Hayward’s sour attitude and Kouvr Annon’s fried hair because there’s no initial reason for it”

From what I viewed, this content house was intended to be a collaborative space where individuals with like interests could combine together and brainstorm, but it’s more of a large group of adult toddlers, especially Nikita Dragun. 

From her botched, Barbie doll look to her blackfishing scandals, Nikita was one of the main instigators during this series.

It was seen in extremity during this series, and I personally am a sucker for drama; however, when every other scene becomes filled with tears and messy mascara marks, it quickly morphs into a cringey version of the Kardashians.

This show excessively bothered me for more reasons than just Hayward’s sour attitude and Annon’s fried hair because there’s no initial reason for it. As a viewer, we are restricted from seeing the real-life influencer events that intrigued us all. Where are the product release events? Celebrity collaborations? Birthday parties? I mean, at least they are following quarantine rules for once, but all the specialized festivities that make these people B-listers was the singular reason I was looking forward to watching this now-known monstrosity. 

In all honesty, thirst trap extraordinaire Vinnie Hacker—TikTok’s sexiest man alive—is the singular reason I endured this show. No one cares about fake, edited Hollywood content creators dancing around in heels, prancing around Los Angeles in their two million dollar Lamborghinis. 

It all comes down to the fact that for a living, these people create fifteen-second dance videos and created a Netflix show to earn more money. They make billions of dollars pretending to be the knock-off version of “Dance Moms.” So why do they all show such a salty disposition?

The entirety of this show is people yelling at each other; there is no exact plot, theme, or reason to watch it other than the fact that it is a flaming hot mess. That may be interesting to some, but for me, this show did not live up to the hype.