Why ‘Win the Wilderness’ is Netflix’s Strangest Reality Show Yet

Plastic surgery procedures, a friendship with Paris Hilton, even an adoptee-biological father reunion. The genre of reality competition show has thrown up some crazy, and often problematic, prizes over the years. But Netflix’s new acquisition, Win the Wilderness, may well boast the most mind-boggling of them all.

First screened on the BBC in January, the six-part series sees six British couples attempt to summon their inner Bear Grylls in the hope of inheriting an Alaskan property 100 miles from civilization. Self-isolation taken to the extreme you may say.

The show is the brainchild of Duane and Rena Ose, an awe-inspiring couple who took advantage of the US Homestead Act and built a three-story home from 7,000 trees deep in the heart of the unforgiving Alaskan wilderness. Grainy camcorder footage taken during its early construction three decades ago further highlights just how mammoth their task was. It’s exhausting just to watch.

Sadly, with their advancing years and various health problems, the eccentric survivalists must relocate to somewhere a little more hospitable. And with their offspring, entirely understandably, unwilling to spend their days without other human company, 4G broadband and pizza deliveries, the pair need to find a more willing successor.

Win the Wilderness suggests that perhaps reality TV wasn’t the way to go. Duane and Rena shopped the idea around to multiple American networks without much luck before attracting the BBC. Subsequently, the couple are left with a pool of plucky but naive Brits whose knowledge of Alaska seems even more limited than Sarah Palin’s: one hapless contestant needs to be warned about the dangers of chopping firewood in open-toed sandals.

The six couples, notably all Caucasian, all straight, are a likable bunch largely free of the bitching and melodrama you’d expect in such an intense situation. But all appear to have grossly underestimated the challenge ahead. Their sense of wonder the first time they set eyes on Ose Mountain in a four-seater plane seems entirely genuine: but several also appear mightily relieved when told that they’re not the chosen ones, too.

In fact, you wonder just how thorough the selection process was. Some participants have issues that would make living in such a remote environment seem impossible (one contestant has MS, for example) and one of the younger duos have only been together for a year.  

Moreover, the show’s format is all over the place. Each week the teams are tasked with an intense survival challenge (build and sleep in makeshift shelter, avoid hypothermia after jumping into a lake). The duo who most impress local expert CJ, a man whose facial hair is as admirable as his patience, then spend 24 hours being assessed by the Oses at their extraordinary abode. 

If deemed unsuitable, the team return home. If they show potential, they rejoin the others, still in full-on competitive mode, back at the activity ranch base. Two pairs will be sent packing without even seeing the place. And then the finalists make the white-knuckle ride back to Ose Mountain for more back-breaking tasks and polite interrogations. 

It’s an approach which not only wastes fuel but also gives Duane and Rena too much room for thought. Charming they may be but natural reality TV judges they sure ain’t and their indecision essentially renders the first four episodes entirely pointless. 

Ultimately, it doesn’t seem like the subjects or production team truly thought things through. What happens if the Oses don’t believe any of the teams are worthy of their legacy? Surely America’s strict immigration regulations would stand in the winning couple’s way regardless? And what’s to stop the victors from simply cashing in on the home they’ve been given for free? Frustratingly, despite plenty of time to do so, none of the obvious questions are even touched on.  

But while Win the Wilderness doesn’t work as a reality competition, it does as a travel show. The stunning scenery, all lush forestry, crystal clear waters and dramatic mountain peaks, almost makes the slog of a running time worth it. The Alaskan tourist board couldn’t have asked for a better promotional tool. 

Duane and Rena are also a fascinating pair. The former, a biblically-bearded individual who’s written a non-fictional account of an alien visit and wears an eyepatch having once been shot by his drunken ex-wife, is a cross between a Werther’s Original grandfather and Grizzly Adams. The latter, meanwhile, is a no-nonsense yet amiable figure just as likely to crack jokes about her prowess in the bedroom as offer advice on animal gutting.  

The fact they’ve managed to survive each other 24/7 for the best part of 30 years is arguably even more remarkable than the home – complete with guest lodge, greenhouse and even landing strip – they painstakingly built with their own hands. And the moment they bid it an emotional farewell in the finale’s closing moments proves that alongside the stoicism and gung-ho attitude, they also have hearts the size of an American black bear.

In fact, a reality show about the Oses’ astonishing life story and their next chapter in the less punishing surroundings of Redwood Falls, Minnesota would undoubtedly have made for better TV. Win the Wilderness looks like the pages of National Geographic brought to life, but its drama doesn’t come close to taking your breath away. 

Jon O’Brien (@jonobrien81) is a freelance entertainment and sports writer from the North West of England. His work has appeared in the likes of Esquire, Billboard, Paste, i-D, The Guardian, Vinyl Me Please and Allmusic. 

Stream Win The Wilderness on Netflix