Thu, April 22, 2004

One of the things I find fascinating about a game like Survivor is the strategy of alliances. It's part of what makes Deadwood so interesting, too – the idea that each person is out for him- or herself, but along the way some cooperation is necessary. So how do those opposing needs reconcile? Probst wasn't wrong to point out the John Nash book; Nash talks about the concept that non-cooperative parties will necessarily reach agreement at a point which satisfies both equally. In a game like Survivor they can't both win, but it's not a perfect system. The human element adds a layer of fallibility – what seems satisfactory may not, in the end, guarantee victory. Plus, on Survivor you have to be able to adapt your alliances on a daily basis, and if you're smart you are planning three or four moves ahead. (See, Nash wasn't all conspiracy theories and "I think there's a mathematical equation for how ugly your tie is." He had his moments.) Anyway, the problem is, the people on Survivor treat it a lot more like The Real World than a strategy game.

I mean, just what is it exactly that these people do all day? Out of the eight who remain, they are allied with AmbeRob into at least three separate "final fours." Leaving aside the fact that pretty soon only four people will remain, so they should try to think final three, two, or one – why hasn't anyone found out that their alliance isn't the only one? Has AmbeRob really convinced each of them so thoroughly that they simply don't bring it up? It seems like it would come up in conversation, or that someone would say, "Hey, how's your alliance going? Who are your final four?" and then it would all come out. Could it really be that nobody is talking strategy because everyone thinks they're in a set final four, and they're afraid if they bring it up with someone not of their group that a vulnerability will be exposed? I thought these people had played this game before! Shouldn't they know that "I want to take you to the final two" is the biggest and most often-repeated lie? It seems like something as non-committal as "final four" would be more suspicious, but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe what's working for the Coalition of the Nuzzling is that everybody thinks "If I were told they'd take me to the final two, I'd know it was a lie. But, final four? Why lie about that?" (Which still begs the question: You know they think they're the final two... doesn't that necessarily make you three or four? There are five other people you could ally with, shouldn't you be able to do better?)

The merge (which still may not happen, mind you) was supposed to be the death knell of AmbeRob. Suddenly there would be a large group that had the opportunity to re-shuffle and get rid of them, and the group would want to get rid of them because they're an obvious liability, an unbreakable alliance, and a threat. But, no. Everyone has just been too comfortable in their existing alliances to make a change. I thought these people had played this game before! You never get comfortable on Survivor, certainly not in an alliance! And if you do, you know that's a bad sign. The saying at the poker table is (did somebody say poker?), if you look around the table and you can't spot the chump, you're the chump. If you can't figure out who's oblivious to the fact that they're at the bottom of the alliance, it's you. Rupert. It's you. Alicia. It's you. Tom. Tom! Wake up! Snap out of your drunken stupor, 'cause it's you.

At the remmunity challenge (and don't get me started on how much I hate that), Probst apologizes for all the twists (shuffling teams, merging), saying that it "must be confusing." Well, it's Survivor and there are meant to be twists. Also, everyone is now on the same team – what's confusing about that? He goes on to explain that this is the "videos from home" challenge. What a pile of puke. I love my family. I adore my family. But I can't imagine a situation in which a letter or video from them would mean enough to make me start sobbing uncontrollably. Maybe in Jenna M's situation, where it could be a matter of knowing whether or not your mother was alive, but I still say c'mon – news like that, the producers would just give you. So, no. You're not going to get me to go crazy over a five-minute video of a relative telling me things I already know. ("Things are good here. We miss you. It's daylight out.") And the thing is, all this stuff is done in advance. When my sister went to summer camp, they had us write five postcards beforehand and hand them in to the counselors when we dropped her off. Then, they'd parcel them out to her one at a time over the week she was gone and it would be like getting letters from home, except without the hassle of relying on the postal service to sync everything up perfectly. I never found out whether they had the presence of mind to give her the June 6 letter on June 7 or 8, or if they just thought "who's checking?" and handed it over on the sixth. But it was pretty weird secretly writing them a week in advance. My mom, a terrible liar, would always try really hard to stress the context. If it was Tuesday on a week when she worked Tuesdays, she'd be all, "It's Tuesday, so I went to work today," as if it helped deflect suspicion. "It really is Tuesday. Just yesterday, Monday, I was thinking to myself, 'The week has just begun,' but here it is, already Tuesday. I swear." I just tried to put together a five part story so that there would be some continuity to it and something to look forward to. My dad, in typical fashion, would write things like, "Don't forget to sleep with your eyes closed."

But not this group. They're wailing immediately. Probst shows them brief clips from the potential videos they could win, and they just bawl their eyes out. I particularly liked Jenna's response, although Probst first tortured her with the memory of not getting a video in Borneo. Bite it, Probst. Looking at her daughters, she says, "Someone cut their hair," in a tone that seems to imply, "and if I find out who, there'll be hell to pay!" Good stuff. I keep thinking it would be really funny if there were a clip in there from Probst's family. Hey, he's out there all alone, too. It strengthens my resolve to go on Survivor or have a family member go. As you know, my luxury item is already selected: the Survivor home game. Also, it would be really funny to send a gag as the family letter. "Ashley, a letter from your fiancé. Jules, a letter from your daughter. And Laney, a letter from Ed McMahon. You may already be a winner."

Anyway, everybody gets over the emotions that come from sharing the video clips together – they fight like starving Pomeranians back at camp, but in the video hut, they're best friends – they share the warmth of looking at Kathy's dullard son trying to do his homework; they weep with joy at the sight of Jenna's kids; they wince at the stereotypical stony sobriety of Shii-Ann's parents; they recoil with horror at whatever inbred shaved animal is recorded on the video for Tom. And they move on. Probst sets up his slide projector and details the 58-step obstacle course, combining – as usual – aspects of all previous challenges including, oddly, this one. There's digging for flags! There's people locked in boxes! There's zip lines! There's balancing and wall climbing! So much recycling. Man, these producers are getting lazy. Next week the immunity challenge will be to edit an episode of Survivor. Probst tells the competitors that they'll do this challenge in two teams even though they're still one big team. I guess he's no longer worried about confusing them. Oddly, this time they don't have to change buffs. One team of four will win reward (letters from home) and the other team is just out. Then, the winning team will compete for who gets individual immunity, and that person gets a video, too. This is so ridiculous. First of all, don't combine challenges. You need two challenges a week to make it even marginally interesting. Second, it isn't fair for four people to be eliminated from immunity contention just because they didn't win reward. The rich get richer? This is crazy and unfair and once again transparently designed to favor Rob and Amber.

Whatever. Rob's team, of course, wins the reward, which comes with a free poncho for each. Then Rob wins the immunity, which is also no surprise. If you look closely, you can see three producers physically restraining Alicia while Rob finishes his puzzle. Anyway, he tries to flex his influence on the island by making a deal with Probst. He'll take Probst to the final four, if... no, wait. He wants to "forgo" his video, if it means that the four losers will also get their letters from home. Apparently, Rob's letter from home was a single page from a word-a-day calendar, and someone had torn "forgotten" in half. Probst, after playing coy the way he did with Jenna's video clip, agrees. Probst, just host the show. Host. The. Show. I don't need to hate you. I hate Rob. And Shii-Ann? Oh yeah, she's still around (nice work, people!) – I hate her, too. You host the show. If we need someone to not be funny, we've got Leno. Letters from home for everyone, it's a glorious day. They immediately split off in eight separate directions, some in ponchos, to read their letters in idyllic, Average Joe fantasy date-type locations. We already get one weepy, slow-motion snoozefest per season when the final three people have to "think about those who have played the game" with them. Let's not add another here. I think Shii-Ann says something like, "This is my mother. This is the sort of thing she would write." Yeah, I think she did. That's why the letters are on the paper. Ah, she's a smart one, that Shii-Ann!

But, not long after, it's time for backlashes and guttersniping. (Sadly, we don't get to see what passes for the written word in Tom's circle. I had my money on a smear of chicken poop and a McDonald's Monopoly piece.) Kathy and Shii-Ann are too smart for Rob. They see his "altruistic" act of forgoance as a strategic move. Well, duh. Maybe now that he gave four people a letter from home nobody will vote for him tonight at Tribal Council! It's always good to get the Shii-Ann interview. Where else can you get such a precise level of insightful analysis? (Oh, yeah. Most bumper stickers.) In an interview, Rob states (Rick James style) that it wasn't about strategy and of course it was about strategy. Well, obviously. Kathy's opinion is that "if somebody was smart, they would take him out." If someone were smart, they'd use better grammar, but that's beside the point. Why not, I don't know, TAKE HIM OUT?! Amber didn't win immunity this week – vote for her ass! Throw Rob into a lonely, miserable tailspin that will affect his play and lose him immunity next wee– no, this just in, next week's immunity challenge is who can best describe how Amber's hair smells. Those wily producers! My question is, why can't people accept a kind gesture from Rob and then not cede him the strategic advantage? You can say "Thanks, it was a stand up thing to give us letters from home," and then still vote against his alliance. There's no contract that says you can't read your family letter if you later vote for the guy. It's a game about strategy, lies, and deception. Or it could be if anyone tried.

Instead, it's time for AmbeRob to drape themselves in ceremonial shawls and hold court in their beachside hut. We're treated to four solid minutes of different people walking in and out and talking about what the alliance is, who the (always different) final four will be, and who to vote for. They fret about Kathy talking to Tom, rather than realizing, "Hey. Good idea." Just by watching who goes in and out of the AmbeRob hut, you should be able to tell that there are more than four people in the final four alliance. Proof that they're mindless sheep: Rob is able to convincingly utter the phrase, "We're going to win this thing." Ah yes, the coveted Joint Sole Survivor. Sigh. Off to TribCon.

Again, the contestants are subjected to some Probsting questions about the state of the game, and again they play coy, and talk in vague enough terms that nobody is tipped off to the fact that there are seven separate and distinct final fours promised to the remaining six players by AmbeRob. Lex – who Arksie is through with, by the way – provides the obligatory jury member eye roll while the other competitors are talking. I know I wail about this every week, but why won't they just name names and answer Probst's questions? They stand to learn so much about how easily they're all being duped. It can't be a matter of the players having seen Survivor on TV and thinking this is just how you behave at Tribal Council. There has to be some sort of coercion to get them to talk so ambiguously. I'm picturing a producer just off-camera, holding videos of their family at gunpoint. ("Obfuscate, damn you! I'll blow this video of your sister-in-law to smithereens!" Sob! "No! I'll do anything! Not a video of my family!") And, the picking off continues, right in order, with Kathy. They couldn't even meet me halfway and eliminate Shii-Ann next. I refuse to watch any "next week" footage at this point. It will only be clips of people doubting AmbeRob to get my hopes up, and then next week it will turn out that those are clips of people acting out a skit in which someone questions the almighty will of AmbeRob and gets their elbows chopped off as punishment for their recalcitrance.

POLL:

CBS Mail Bag

Whose letter from home would you most like to read?

	Shii-Ann's - Instructions for care and storage of your new poncho.
	Amber's - Dear Penthouse Forum, I never thought this would happen to me...
	Tom's - Paw, I bit the sheriff again. Please send Skeeter to post bail.
	Jenna's - We cut your kids' hair! And we'll do it again! (Hugs and kisses to Ethan.)
	Rupert's - I miss you honey. Please talk to me telepathically like you did last season.

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