‘The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives’ Drowns in the Same Toxicity It Claims to Examine

SPOILER WARNING: The following story contains plot details from Season 5 of “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives.”

From its inception, “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives” has been inseparable from the volatile relationship between #MomTok influencer Taylor Frankie Paul and her on-again, off-again boyfriend Dakota Mortensen. The series debuted two years ago with a violent altercation between the couple captured on police body cameras — an incident that led to Paul’s arrest and a subsequent guilty plea for aggravated assault. Earlier this year, a season of “The Bachelorette” starring Paul, a crossover venture between ABC and Hulu (both Disney-owned), was canceled after additional harrowing footage of the same fight was leaked to TMZ.

Paul’s projected comeback was derailed, but her central vehicle on “Mormon Wives” endures. This week, the series returned for a condensed Season 5, consisting almost entirely of footage shot before production halted in March during the height of Paul’s public backlash. The new information revealed across the five episodes is scant. We learn the eventual recipient of the final rose from the unaired “Bachelorette” season, making it even less likely that the competition will ever air. More significantly, the victor’s identity proves irrelevant: Paul rekindled her relationship with Mortensen the same night she returned from filming. By her own admission, Paul and Mortensen share “an addiction” to each other and to their toxic dynamic. Most pairings formed on the “Bachelor” franchise dissolve; Paul’s was destined for failure before it began.

Yet something else becomes apparent while watching Season 5: “Mormon Wives” itself appears unable to break free from the Paul-Mortensen saga — a tragedy that functions simultaneously as the show’s primary engine and its most significant liability. What already exacted a tangible cost on ABC is now taking a more symbolic toll on the series, which is being consumed by its most combustible element. In the season’s final moments, cast member Mikayla Matthews expresses astonishment that the friend group known as #MomTok has transformed from a source of “empowerment” into something far more troubling. Viewers, however, have witnessed this deterioration unfold in near real time, rendering it anything but surprising. Paul and Mortensen cannot separate; “Mormon Wives” cannot distance itself from Paul — and the resulting tragedy has turned what was once an engrossing piece of pop sociology into a grim spectacle devoid of enjoyment.

Season 5 makes perfunctory attempts to cultivate other narratives, such as a half-hearted dispute between “Dancing With the Stars” alumni Jennifer Affleck and Whitney Leavitt, or Jessi Draper’s reckoning with what she describes as extensive cosmetic surgery. Paul and Mortensen remain inescapable — partly because the exes are locked in a ceaseless cycle, and partly because their dynamic is mirrored in numerous other pairings throughout the cast. No one descends to the same depths as Mortensen, who claims to have sent Paul a sex tape featuring himself with another woman and, as is strongly suggested, likely strategically fed the TMZ footage in retaliation for Paul establishing a boundary. In context, though, the couple reads less as an anomaly and more as a tone-setter for a broader catalog of cautionary romantic stories.

Affleck’s husband Zak, arguably the show’s secondary antagonist, voices resentment over his wife’s desire to pose for Sports Illustrated even as her celebrity enables him to abandon medical school and purchase a CyberTruck. Miranda Hope’s ex-husband Chase McWhorter, recently outed for a DUI, visibly craves the camera and is consequently rewarded for his confrontational behavior. Layla Taylor dates McWhorter’s brother Mason, enveloping him in gifts and vacations while he proves unable to reciprocate.

“Mormon Wives” has always commanded interest for the way the cast’s considerable internet fame — which predates, though is amplified by, the show — inverts the traditional gender roles instilled by their faith. But five seasons in, that intrigue has soured into unease. “Mormon Wives” is not merely depicting unhealthy partnerships; in many instances, it is intensifying them, fostering a perverse incentive for discontented figures like McWhorter to remain in exchange for exposure that remains contingent on the women in their lives. This tension sometimes surfaces among the women themselves: Paul commands the largest following by a wide margin, and Draper worries that fans will instinctively side with her against her well-intentioned friends.

Unlike the stars of “The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City,” the other reality juggernaut set in the same region, the “Mormon Wives” are considerably younger and far more embedded in the Mormon community. Where Housewives such as Heather Gay have emancipated themselves from their marriages and the social expectations that accompanied them, the “Mormon Wives” appear mired in the worst heterosexuality has to offer — though Layla Taylor has recently shared that she is now dating a woman. Paul and Mortensen, whom she frequently calls her “baby daddy,” represent a departure from any traditional model of matrimony. They remain trapped in a public performance of their dysfunction — a spectacle that has persisted so long it feels irresponsible to continue centering. Yet if “Mormon Wives” is not about terrible men exploiting women, what is it about? That is one of many questions for an upcoming spinoff set in Orange County to address.

The only way to win this game, it seems, is not to play. Following her Broadway debut as Roxie Hart in “Chicago,” Leavitt announced her intention to leave the cast after Season 5. Even before that formal exit, however, Leavitt already appears physically and emotionally detached. Articulate and composed, she is nearly unrecognizable from the volatile antagonist she presented in Season 1. She also seems largely unwilling to engage with Affleck, whose grievances against Leavitt carry the undercurrent of jealousy over Affleck’s less prosperous music career. (Little faith is warranted that the flamingo-inspired single “Pink Back” will be Affleck’s breakthrough.) Whatever Affleck claims to object to in Leavitt’s conduct, she appears more envious that Leavitt managed to channel her abilities into an escape route, leaving Affleck to voice sentiments as dire as “I feel like Zak doesn’t understand me.” The “Mormon Wives” may hold sincere faith in religious concepts like Heaven, but for now, the show feels more like purgatory.

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