reality show

Tyra Banks has filed a defamation lawsuit against Netflix and the directors of “Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model” claiming that she was manipulated and misrepresented in the series.

The three-part documentary, directed by married duo Mor Loushy and Daniel Sivan, revisited the reality show’s rise and many controversies, including former contestant Shandi Sullivan discussing what she described as a blackout sexual encounter that took place during Cycle 2 of the series and was a major plot point because Sullivan was in a relationship.

Sullivan said in “Reality Check” that she felt like producers should have stepped in considering she was heavily intoxicated, but instead they followed her into the bathroom and bedroom to record a sexual encounter with a male model. In a following scene, Banks lectures Sullivan about cheating and “carnal” temptation.

“Tyra Banks participated in the Netflix documentary series about ‘America’s Next Top Model’ because she believed viewers deserved a candid conversation about the show’s legacy — its successes and its shortcomings,” reads the lawsuit. “There are aspects of the show for which Ms. Banks takes accountability and she wanted ANTM viewers to hear that from her directly.”

The lawsuit, filed on Saturday in the Central District of California, claims that the supermodel turned media personality participated in a 3½-hour interview, of which about 16 minutes was used.

“The producers used what could be stripped of context and reassembled to support a false and defamatory narrative unrelated to what she actually expressed,” reads the suit. “The accountability Banks took ended up on the cutting room floor.”

The suit alleges that producers used “selective editing, deliberate omission and surgical manipulation of continuous footage” to create a false narrative that Banks “knowingly allowed a contestant to be sexually assaulted on her show, exploited that contestant’s trauma for ratings, and then could not even remember it when asked.”

Banks claims that she asked Netflix and the producers of the docuseries for access to the unedited footage of her 3½-hour interview, and proposed they work together to “correct the record.”

“Had they agreed, Ms. Banks could have made the truth public and this litigation would likely have been unnecessary,” reads the suit.

According to the suit, Banks was pitched the docuseries as a “definitive three-hour Netflix docuseries exploring America’s Next Top Model as a groundbreaking popculture phenomenon.” The pitch had a Netflix logo on its cover, and Banks had “long trusted and admired Netflix.” The streamer’s involvement was the reason Banks claims she considered the project.

Banks claims the pitch included promises that the documentary would unpack the show’s legacy “not as a takedown, but as a thoughtful in-depth reflection on its influence, evolution, and impact on fashion, television, and culture.”

The suit claims Banks was prepared for a fair comeuppance, but ultimately the former supermodel felt hoodwinked. “Nothing suggested that the project would falsely accuse Ms. Banks of covering up a sexual assault, or being indifferent to what a contestant characterizes as a traumatic experience.”

In February, directors for “Reality Check” revealed that Banks wasn’t invited to participate in the docuseries until well after production began

“It was like, ‘Hey, this can be a great addition, but definitely not a necessity,’” Sivan said. “People talking trash about her is very easy to find. … But having her passion, bringing this program to life, is something that only she could tell.”

Sivan and Loushy, who also helmed the acclaimed 2025 docuseries “American Manhunt: Osama bin Laden,” said they treated “Reality Check” with the same level of care as previous heavyweight projects.

“There were things that were sensitive and important for me,” Loushy said, from the harassment that she said “ANTM” contestants endured to the insecurities that “to us as women, are sitting tight and hard every day on our heart.”

The directing duo hoped to examine the good intentions Banks and producers had, of turning the fashion industry on its head, empowering women and championing diversity, and the way those intentions evolved as the show moved through cycles.

“At the end of the day, was it a force of good, or was it a force of evil? I hope people keep debating that,” Sivan said.

Former Times staff writer Malia Mendez contributed to this report.

Spencer Pratt, please give me a call.

We should talk.

You say you want to be mayor of Los Angeles, but do you really?

I know that being a candidate has rescued you from anonymity after your career in reality TV went off a cliff. You’ve got CEOs backing you, and fans raving, and you’ve managed to milk social media attention.

But at some point you might have to answer questions from the reporters you’ve been avoiding.

And if you win, you’re going to have to drive to City Hall five, six, seven days a week, and I don’t know if you saw my column a few weeks ago, but the fountain on the south lawn hasn’t worked in about 60 years. If you get elected, you better put a wrench in your lunch box, because nobody has figured out how to fix it.

So that’s the reality, pretty much. And the unions will want what they want, and the socialists on the City Council will be lying in wait, especially after President Trump blew you a cross-country air kiss and certified your MAGA credentials.

More than 30,000 people are waiting for their broken sidewalks to get fixed (I’m not exaggerating) but there’s no money, and if you hire several thousand more police officers as you’ve pledged, the city would be bankrupt for the next decade or so and you’d need to take out a loan to buy a doughnut.

So call me, like I say, because I think there’s still time to change your mind.

If you choose to proceed, and if you actually win, it might feel like you’re in a sequel to that reality show you did called “I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here,” and you may end up praying the show gets canceled. The mayor’s hours are long, and everywhere you go, someone will want you to fix this problem or that, and as you wander the halls of power you’ll think back on your campaign pledges and hear the constant echo of a line from H.L. Mencken:

“For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.”

Can I confess something?

I’m feeling guilty about all of this.

Not to sound presumptuous, but I feel partly responsible for the fact that you’re in contention for the job.

Like you, I’ve been calling out issues with the management of L.A., and I’ve been doing it for years. But I had the good sense not to run for mayor.

Why’s that?

Because unlike you, I know the fixes aren’t as easy as we’d like them to be.

When Karen Bass was running the first time, I had a long talk with her about her homelessness plan, among other things. At the end of the day, she asked for my input.

I reminded her that as much as people would like for the city’s top elected official to immediately clear the streets, a mayor is limited by shared power with the City Council.

By drug epidemics and untreated mental illness that are largely under county authority.

By uncertain funding from the nation’s capital.

By global forces that transformed the economy and created staggering levels of inequality that are made all the worse by the high cost of housing.

Bass was aware of all that, but said that having worked in Sacramento and D.C., and having built relationships with county supervisors, she’d be able to build better systems and get better outcomes.

So how has she done?

Not great. And then there’s the fire.

As I’ve said before, leaving the country despite forecasts of elevated wildfire risk was probably the worst mistake of her political career.

I don’t need to remind you of that. Having lost your house in the Palisades, you know that Bass badly underreacted, then stumbled on the rebuilding, and then had a hand in downplaying the Fire Department’s failure to adequately deploy and extinguish the fire that became an inferno.

To summarize, she’s left herself wide open to a challenge.

And she probably can’t believe how lucky she is that you might be her November competition, if the two of you bounce out Councilmember Nithya Raman and the other candidates in the June 2 primary.

I don’t hold it against you that you haven’t worked in government or politics before. These days, a lot of voters prefer outsiders. But it might have helped if you’d done something of purpose at some point in your life, like run a successful business or volunteer at a food bank. Were you junior high class president, or were you in the Boy Scouts? Anything could help.

Not that being the boyfriend and later the husband of someone on an MTV reality show called “The Hills,” which chronicled the work of a woman who went from “Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County” to an internship at Teen Vogue, can’t prepare a young man for statesmanship.

In this culture, you could ride that all the way to the White House.

But the flimsy resume could explain, Spencer, why you’ve been taking so many social media-fueled potshots at Bass without offering anything of substance.

Let’s arrest drug zombies.

OK, then what?

I’d advise you to study the primer by my colleagues Doug Smith and Andrew Khouri on what you can and can’t do about homelessness as a mayor in L.A. Clearly, you’ve got a lot of boning up to do. In fact, I’m reminded of a line by a Philadelphia columnist years ago, when he said of a politician who wasn’t up to the job: He’s been standing in shallow water for so long, he doesn’t realize he can’t swim.

If I were you, I’d consider the fact that President Trump made the mistake of promising easy fixes. He was going to deliver a massive infrastructure program. He was going to deliver healthcare reform that was better and cheaper for everyone. He was going to lower consumer prices on Day One, and here we are, with millions of people wondering how they’re going to pay their bills while Trump rigs it so he doesn’t have to pay the IRS.

All that being said, I’m glad you decided to run, because elected officials need constant reminders that their jobs are not secure, even when the challengers are way in over their heads. I’d almost like to see you win, because that’s one reality show I’d be sure to watch.

And I say this despite the fact that you once told your talk show buddy Alex Jones — who insisted that 9/11 was an inside job and that the Sandy Hook massacre of 20 children was a hoax — that melting ice caps are overrated. Or, as you explained it to Jones, “we’ve all seen footage of the polar bears swimming to new pieces of ice.”

When the general election rolls around, and the ice begins to break, will you know how to swim?

steve.lopez@latimes.com