Mon, February 6, 2006
Non-Twist Fever!
It's the easiest thing in the world.
...And we're back! Rather than simply making it a condition of the Survivor casting process that applicants may not have viewed any previous seasons of the show, Burnett and his team of hyperintelligent twist-generating cyborgs have created a newer, twistier game to keep things "interesting." Probst begins, as usual, amidst a tempest of chopper rotor wash, surrounded by a handful of Steadicam-wielding adrenaline junkies, introducing us to the latest splendorous locale in which a hand full of social rejects will scuffle for the right to contribute a hearty portion of their $1 million prize to the IRS for the Iraq war effort.
Probst is actually standing on Exile Island, which has been renamed for the purpose of the show, just like Dish, TX, and Half.com, OR – very cheeky. Most of the action will take place elsewhere in the surrounding archipelago, but Exile Island is the star location, since each night one or more contestants will be forced to sleep here, away from their team and equipped with supplies even more meager than those back at camp. This is a substantial shift in the game, although it doesn't really count as a twist, since it's disclosed at the very beginning. Probst refers to it as a giant twist. Also not a twist is the upfront announcement that another mini immunity idol is secreted away somewhere on the island. (To Probst: a twist within a twist!) Exile Island is a nice addition to the strategic landscape – there are myriad reasons for voting someone onto Exile Island, and spending the night there will allow for significant shifts in the power dynamic back at camp. It might be a nice way to break up some pesky sub-alliances as the game goes on. Plus, a contestant ends up on Exile Island because his or her team has just lost a challenge, and only as the results of a vote – so there's an amount of gamesmanship to the process. The mini idol, however, is just a cheap stunt. Rather than rewarding skill or political maneuvering, it rewards dumb luck (or – in the case of someone combing every inch of E.I. – overwhelming tenacity). Plus, unlike the previous mini-idol, contestants can drag the thing out whenever they want to, at any Tribal Council up through the final four, even after the votes have been counted (which would mean the person with the next highest number of votes goes home). This has the potential to change every single TribCon vote, due to teams speculating that one member might be hiding the mini idol. Which begs the question, which hare-brained tie-breaker method is in effect this time? Because if it's tied to whomever has received the most previous votes, this can affect that, too. Also, in the case of a unanimous vote against the holder of the mini idol, that person will evict someone else with just one vote! An awful lot of pandemonium for one little idol. It will be interesting to see how the vote campaigns go once a few people have stayed on E.I. and might have found the mini idol – but I'd still prefer a Survivor game without "Get Out of Jail Free" cards; let them win on the strength of their strategies and abilities, not their use of silly trinkets.
Next, it's time to introduce the teams. Burnett has spent his down time reading onebee, because finally Survivor has returned to a sixteen-person game. It's really better this way. I still can't tell three of the Viveros guys apart, and I have no idea what Bruce does for a living – you can imagine the confusion with a larger group. Also in accordance with my request, the teams have been pre-divided: no agonizing kickball choosing of teams (at least not yet). As an additional non-twist, there are four teams instead of two – divided by gender and age range. It's a marketer's dream come true! Watching commercials for riding mowers and term life insurance will be the "older guys" of La Mina: Dan, the astronaut; Terry, the airline pilot; Shane, the marketing exec; and Bruce of yet unknown origin. Learning about NuvaRing and Kate Spade handbags will be the "young girls" of Bayoneta: Sally, the social worker; Courtney, the fire dancer; Misty, the missile engineer and former beauty queen; and Danielle, the medical sales rep, who has brought along her enormous rack and her thick Boston accent. (Somewhere in suburbia, Boston Rob can be heard squawking, "D'oh! I married the wrong hot Survivor chick!") Screening ads for domestic beer and the new Gillette five blade (!) razors will be the "young guys" of Viveros: Austin, the writer; Bobby, the attorney; Nick, in financial sales; and Aras, the kooky yoga instructor. And finally, viewing commercials for Lifetime movies and osteoporosis medicine, the "older ladies" of Casaya: Ruth-Marie, the realtor; Melinda, a singer from Dollywood; Tina, an atrociously named "lumberjill"; and Cirie, a nurse who had thought she was young. Sorry – not young enough! Now take a seat in your rocking chair and finish knitting that afghan.
In my experience, dividing the teams by gender has been somewhat hit-or-miss. From what I understand of Survivor: Africa (which I didn't see), dividing them by age group is always a disaster. They merge down to two next week, though, so this shouldn't be too big of a deal. It's basically a nice way to eliminate an older player early without the usual embarrassing, lopsided Tribal Council vote. Strangely, the show refers to the teams only by their "older men"/"younger women" names for the entire episode, even though the team names are announced in the opening "credits" and on their various beach flags. I know they were gracious enough to say "older" and not just "old," but it still seems like "Casaya" has a nicer ring to it than "older women." Hell, I'd even go with Bobby's names for the teams: "Love Boat" for La Mina, and "Golden Girls" and "Spice Girls" for the ladies' teams. (He neglects to nickname his own team, but based on the arrogant bluster in his EW blurb, I'm assuming he's already nicknamed it "Team Bobby.")
Right off the bat, Probst springs a reward challenge on the new teams. They'll select a representative to run down a path to a big pile of skulls, then smash them open to reveal a bundle of cloth. If they find an amulet wrapped in the cloth, they win flint to make fire; if they find a pebble, they have to smash another skull. (And nobody mentions this, but hopefully these are prop skulls.) There are three amulets, so one team will spend the night fireless, and also appoint a member to stay here on Exile Island. After enough skull smashings to fill a dozen reenactments of the opening shot of Terminator 2 and the opening scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey, the two male teams emerge victorious. It's down to Ruth-Marie for Casaya and Dani for Bayoneta, who's displaying gratuitous cleavage as she bends to bash those skulls open. Soon, one of them has it, and it's time for the patented Amazing Race Obscur-O-Vision – shots of someone running through the trees, but nothing identifiable. The leaves are rustling! The footfalls are thundering! The teams are cheering and pointing! The suspense is enough to burst your heart right through your rib cage – for about four seconds – and then Ruth-Marie emerges, grinning, with Casaya's amulet.
Dani volunteers to be the game's first exile, since she disappointed her team (by nothing more than random chance, really – there's a pile of pebbles with three amulets in it; no skill involved). At first, there are three shining faces, eager to accept this, but quickly Bayoneta becomes all girly and indecisive. Should Dani really have to stay? Is that fair? They decide to leave it up to... random chance. They play Rock Paper Scissors, which is really better for settling two-way decisions, not multiple-choice problems. From the footage provided to us, it seems like a very confusing single-elimination round robin RPS tournament, in which the loser must lose to all three other women in order to spend the night on E.I. That can't be right, can it? But all they show us is: Misty - paper, Sally - scissors; then Courtney - paper, Misty - rock. I get a warm feeling when Misty throws paper and Sally throws scissors, because it indicates that Misty has read my RPS strategy manual, and Sally has read it and knows Misty read it! But then Misty throws rock, so maybe not. I still don't see why they couldn't draw straws. (Or, y'know... let Dani stay the night.)
Probst distributes maps to the teams, and everyone else leaves Misty to face Probst in a goofy floppy hat-off. He coyly tells her that he's already given a clue to the location of the mini idol, and as she attempts to retroactively parse all his dopey monologues, we go out to commercial via swooping helicopter shot. Misty: Exiled!
Upon returning, we watch Misty make some poor guesses as to what Probst's clue might have been, searching half-heartedly through the leaves around where she's standing. She says she'd like to pretend to find the mini idol even if she doesn't really find it, in order to affect the votes of the other women if Bayoneta should go to Tribal Council (plus, presumably, discouraging future exiles from searching the island).
Over at their respective camps, the teams are also getting down to business. Cirie informs the rest of Casaya that she's terrified of clearing brush. (This would not sit well with our president.) She's also scared of leaves – and Tina finds this as hard to believe as I do. Tina is easily the most outdoorsy of the group and quickly assumes a dominant role, deciding what will be done and executing most of the heavy lifting. Across the water, the boys of Viveros are doing exactly what you'd expect: playing stickball and discussing how they haven't made it a priority to start a fire or build a shelter. Bayoneta remains indecisive, this time about where to settle. At one point, someone actually asks "What would Misty like?" This is hilarious, because they met her five minutes before leaving her to rot on Exile Island – how would anyone know what she likes? And further, who would care? The decision to abandon her was supposedly random, so she's unlikely to return with a chip on her shoulder – and if she did, she'd say what? "Guys, that was not cool leaving me on Exile Island for the night– whoa! I love where you located the shelter! Thanks you guys! I forgive you!"? Sally gets tired of shopping for a location, and Courtney interviews that she finds the indecisiveness tiresome, but neither wants to say this to her teammates, because nobody needs to volunteer for the "bitch" label on day one. The ladies encounter a dead sea turtle, which Courtney the fire dancer sees as a symbol of womanhood, America, and Mother Earth. Sally sees a dead sea turtle. Danielle thinks Courtney is "overdramatizing" the discovery. Dani objects to overdramatizing? Boy, did she pick the wrong reality show to sign up for!
The distinguished gentlemen of La Mina are watching a machete demonstration from Bruce, who fails to recognize a little druid networking under the stairs. Instead he yells "Samurai cut!" As a means of cementing a cultural stereotype around his Asian-ness, I suppose it's faster than building a cheap clock radio or producing some ultra-violent anime porn, but it still seems unnecessary. Shane mentions that he's a little fatigued by all the shelter-building, because he was a 3 pack a day smoker up until... presumably, this morning. He's worried the withdrawal will make him moody and he'll alienate his valuable teammates. Gosh, Shane, maybe you want to start quitting before day one? Terry hollers that they'll start their fire and throw some "shrimp on the barbie," indicating that he's either brought a shrimp boat as his luxury item, or he's grossly unfamiliar with where shrimp come from. Meanwhile, Dan and Terry have decided to enter into one of those ill-fated, extremely early alliances between two greying geezers with very little to offer one another. (Remember Rudy? Aw.) Dan displays true strategic prowess – feeling out Terry's trustworthiness thusly: "Can I trust you?" Of course not! It's Survivor! But what's he going to say, "Nope"? It reminds me of that jungle-based riddle in which one of the two natives says the other always lies and the other says his counterpart always tells the truth. After vowing never to lie to one another, both confess that they have had cool jobs where they fly stuff around. Dan has been an astronaut, but he doesn't want anyone to find out because he's afraid he'll seem too smart. Terry makes no secret that he flies commercial airliners, but he doesn't want anyone to know he flew fighter jets, because maybe he'll seem too rugged or too masculine or too familiar with Ray-Bans and Kelly McGillis – I don't know. Meanwhile, Misty told EW that she wants to keep her rocket science background mum, so that she won't seem like an intellectual threat. Thanks a lot, Hogeboom, for making background cover-ups the new Survivor "it" trend.
All this cutting between four teams is stressing the Survivor editors to their limit, so it's time for the first immunity challenge. Misty re-joins her team, and immediately looks like an outcast wearing capri pants while they all sport bikini bottoms with loud tropical prints. (This is how it works with girls; you miss one trip to the mall, and suddenly you're behind the trends.) She quickly engages in some scenery chewing during the little skit she wrote overnight, entitled "I Didn't Say I Found the Mini Idol, But Boy It Sure Sounds Like I Did, Doesn't It?" Her performance garners some interest, but no rave reviews.
I know in the past I've made fun of how complicated these challenges are, but if the complexity builds over the course of Exile Island the way it has on past seasons, the later immunity challenges this year will require an instruction manual thicker than the U.S. Tax Code. Think I'm exaggerating? Take a look at this list of steps in the immunity challenge, and keep in mind that before the challenge starts, everyone has to swim out to a raft.
- Climb over a wall on the raft, then jump down into the water below.
- Swim to another raft.
- Dive underwater to unclip the raft from an undersea tether.
- Climb onto the raft and paddle it to shore.
- Race up the beach to a mat with a rope-and-ring brain teaser.
- Solve the brain teaser – or –
- Dig up a buried diagram which helps solve the brain teaser.
- Once the ring is freed, toss it over a grappling hook in the sand.
- Tug the grappling hook towards the mat, raising a team flag.
So this marathon challenge primarily rewards endurance – but also strength, skill, blind luck, and familiarity with ring puzzles.
The early lead belongs to La Mina (the old guys) and Bayoneta (the cute girls) with the Viveros and Casaya teams trailing (hot guys, old ladies). Once they hit the beach, each leading team splits in half, with two people to digging for the clue while the other two try to solve the puzzle. Bayoneta very quickly finds the solution diagram and surges into the lead. Meanwhile, Casaya arrives at the beach and devotes three women to digging for the clue, while Melinda tries to look over Bayoneta's shoulder, a practice which elicits a little editorializing from Probst – who says the strategy "could be costly." Yeah, because digging that hole 30% faster would be a whole lot better than possibly seeing the solution and not even needing to dig. You know what, Probst? We don't need your personal weigh-in on every decision – just narrate the challenges. Or, don't even do that. Stick to asking meaningless, loaded questions at TribCon. Or, don't even do that. Hell, what useful service does he provide on this show, anyway?
Anyway, Melinda's strategy proves costly, as the Viveros men catch up and everyone wins immunity except Casaya. At this point, is there any doubt that Cirie will be sent home? With all the background cover-ups going on, why hasn't she done more to hide her fear of leaves? That's not the kind of thing that makes much of a Survivor contestant. As Tina says, maybe she's on the wrong show. Even Cirie admits in an interview that she doesn't "feel like the most physically fit person on [Casaya]." That seems like a healthy understatement, but remember, Cirie has an extremely positive self-image – she still thinks she should be on Bayoneta. Back at camp, Cirie provides further evidence that she's on the wrong show: trying to sell her teammates the "remove the threat" vote against Tina. That's a great pitch near the merge, when it's about to be every man for himself; at the start of the game, you remove the dead weight. And weight doesn't come any deader than Cirie.
To prove what a threat she is, Tina immediately feeds the team a huge fish, which she found flopping around out of the water and quickly nicknamed "Cirie." In order to show the other women that they will be able to survive after they boot Tina, Cirie scales and cleans the fish. This doesn't make a lot of sense: if you get rid of the person providing the fish, the person preparing the fish becomes a lot less essential. Melinda interviews that she regards Cirie as Casaya's weak link, which I think is quite generous. "Weak link" implies that she's still contributing to the integrity of the chain in some way. I'd call Cirie the weak onion ring.
But, no more campaigning! No more misleading editing! It's time for Tribal Council! Probst distributes torches to the ladies and tells them: "Dip it in and get fire." (By coincidence, this was also the slogan on a series of public-service chlamydia posters in the '80s.) Then he convenes the hearing. Melinda, who in her EW blurb insisted she would show the world (and her friends) that she could handle the outdoor lifestyle, tells Probst she's "in Panamanian hell." Which is like regular hell, but with floppy hats. Cirie shocks all by admitting she's never slept outdoors. (She wouldn't dare – that's how the leaves get you!) She advises Survivor viewers to "stay on the couch," and Melinda agrees. (Take that, Melinda's friends!) Yeah, these are the people you want competing with you in immunity challenges. At which point, Cirie's political instincts kick in again and she begins backpedaling. Now that she's here, she says, she'd like to do more. It's unclear what she means by "do more": help out around camp, or just survive the vote and sleep in the dirt one more night?
Probst turns his attention to Tina, who's having a ball, excited and confident. She's lived outdoors her whole life. (So, I guess she just is the Mountain Girl character from The Ladykillers.) Ruth-Marie agrees with Probst that it's nice to have someone on the team who can get things done. She appreciates that Tina can take the ball and the other women can "fill in the gaps." Cirie argues that Tina "took" the leadership position, and that "one of the three of us could have." Well, she "took" it in the sense that she refused to sit idly and sleep in the rain, but it was hardly a power grab. If they're all so equally qualified to lead, why didn't anyone else step up? Well, because two of them would rather go home, and the third is content to "fill in the gaps." But, thanks to this line of questioning, Probst is able to put Tina in a difficult position, asking her whether or not she likes doing all the work. Walking a political tightrope, Tina answers that of course she'd appreciate some help, but she also likes to work and doesn't want to cause a rift by ordering the others around. Melinda chimes in that everyone is always doing something, it's just a matter of what it is. For example, Tina might be bringing home dinner into the shelter she built, while Melinda might be humming country songs, and Cirie might be cowering in terror at the sight of a particularly menacing palm frond.
The voting begins, and Tina explains to the camera why she's voting for Cirie: "Somebody has to go, and your fear of leaves was my biggest factor." It's true – that really shouldn't be forgotten. Cirie won't be much help in physical challenges, plus she's admittedly not cut out for the "survival" part of Survivor at all. But it turns out the "threat" campaign is successful (isn't it always?) and Tina is sent packing. "Have fun," she chimes as her torch is snuffed. Yeah, and steer clear of those fucking leaves.
Probst steps into his trailer for a Virginia Slims and a Sea Breeze, while the hate bot arrives to finish out the episode. Cocking its head toward the ladies, it intones: "All of you admit it's the toughest thing you've ever done, and yet you vote out the one person who could make your life easier." He he! Good luck, ladies! You're clearly bringing up the rear in the challenges, or you wouldn't be at TribCon in the first place, and now you've guaranteed yourselves to return next week. Of course, the TiVo synopsis says they'll merge into two teams next week, but these idiots don't know that. I'm kind of astonished that Cirie managed to convince them they'd be better of without Tina feeding them and sheltering them, but I'm betting she was able to attach some significance to Tina's solitary stroll down the beach. I understand Tina wanting to keep her mourning private, but I bet if she'd given the others a clue about what she was up to, their sympathy would've kept her around. Instead, they just thought she was a weirdo and got rid of her and her zany generosity and wacky suitability for outdoor living and physical challenges.
The scenes from next week promise more excitement, more nicotine withdrawal, and lightning. Also promised: a more exotic, more adventuresome, and more amazing Amazing Race, starting on Tuesday the 28th. (Thank God.)
© onebee · all rights reserved
Joe Mulder — Tue, 2/7/06 5:41pm
Yay! Return of the "Survivor" column! Poop reading really isn't poop reading unless you're talking fresh new content from Simmons (well, or from Simmons).
A typical partisan cheap shot right off the bat. Our faithful "Survivor" guide knows full well that a large portion of money will go to tapping the phones of anyone who's ever rented a Janeane Garofalo movie.
Don't forget Joe, Montana.
I know what each of these words means, but this phrase makes no sense to me.
I was sure it would be either Jimmy Smits or Alan Alda.
Karen and I talked about this; I don't think it was round robin (which would have been the only fair way to do it); I think it was a single-elimination tournament in which Girls 1 and 2 (I don't remember their names and don't feel like looking them up, or even scrolling back up to check) RPSed each other, then Girl 3 took on the loser. This was patently unfair to Girl 3, since Girls 1 and 2 each had two RPS matches in which a win would save them from Exile Island, while Girl 3 had only one. In effect, Girl 3 had a 50% chance of being exiled, while Girls 1 and 2 had a 33% chance each. It ended up working in Girl 3's favor, which it's going to half the time, so disaster was averted, but, it was still unfair at a basic level. But, you know; chicks.
This may (and I say may, because it's possible there's an angle I'm missing) turn out to be the dumb, pointless "Survivor" strategy by which all future dumb, pointless "Survivor" strategies are measured.
The reason you'd want people to know that you have the idol is so that they wouldn't vote you off, right? It seems like there's no other reason to let people know you have it. So, if you tell people you have it (or hint that you have it), they're going to want to see it, otherwise they have no reason to believe that you have it (why would someone have the idol, want everybody to know they have the idol, but refuse to show anybody the idol?).
So you say you "might" have the idol, or even that you do, but, you won't show it to anybody. The other contestants have no reason to believe that you have it, only to believe that you "might" have it.
The thing is, anybody who spent the night on Exile Island "might" have it. Unless you prove that you have the idol, your maybe having it and maybe not won't affect the voting one bit. People will just proceed as if you might have it and might not, just as they'd proceed when dealing with anyone who'd been on Exile Island.
Here's how Misty's strategy would have played out if I'd been on the island (and may well play out in upcoming episodes):
Misty: I might have found that immunity idol, you just have to watch out.
Joe: Are you saying you found it?
Misty: Maybe.
Joe: If you found it and you want me to know you found it, then let's see it.
Misty: No, you can't see it.
Joe: Then since I have no proof either way, I'll have to assume that, as you say, you might have it and you might not. Which is exactly what we'll all assume about anyone who's been on Exile Island. And by the way, no one would have probably thought about you as a potential bootee this early, but, now that you've distinguished yourself as a bit of a maneuverer a little too early on, I'll keep you in mind as a possible vote.
Misty: Crap.
Joe: Can I touch your boobs?
I've come to call him "Coach Probst," as his air of superiority and his propensity to give people shit and dress them down far beyond what is necessary to stir up TV-friendly TribCon dirt reminds me of a junior high football coach who acts like an authoritarian dick just because he can, and his charges have absolutely no recourse because he really never crosses any line to speak of. You wanna play 8th grade football? Well, you're going to have to put up with Coach Grubeck, so he can be as big an ass as he wants. A bigger man would choose not to abuse this power, of course.
Wanna play "Survivor?" You have to put up with Coach Probst.
Seriously, this show is so much more enjoyable if you imagine everything Probst says and does coming out of the mouth of a junior high football coach.
That said: Yay, Onebee!!!!
Brandon — Tue, 2/7/06 6:20pm
Seriously, this show is so much more enjoyable if you imagine everything Probst says and does coming out of the mouth of a junior high football coach.
That's almost enough to get me to watch the show.
I said almost.
Bee Boy — Tue, 2/7/06 6:28pm
Hee! I've never tried this, but I'm retroactively viewing some key Probst moments in my mind right now, and I can say that it's a perfect fit. (Particularly the time Probst described two teams battling to row their unwieldy skiffs to an immunity challenge victory as "the worst rowing [he'd] ever seen.") A bigger man he certainly is not.
Nice work decoding the RPS tournament. This was the sort of conclusion I wanted to draw, but I couldn't muster the energy to review the footage or think too hard about it. I was afraid it was something as insane as what you suggest (with one girl having fewer chances to not lose), so I quit before I just got myself all worked up.
Misty's mini idol skit is even more mystifying in the light of your analysis – seems to me, if you're pretty sure Misty's got the mini idol, all the more reason to vote for her. Worst case, she's immune and someone else goes home; best case, she goes the fuck home. I guess you just want to be sure you don't get the second-most votes. Which (in almost any case) means you don't want her to vote for you, because everyone else will be voting for her. So, you act like you're doing her a big favor, and say, "Hey, Misty. It looks like everyone's voting for you. They asked me to, but I'm voting for [Someone Else] instead. Also, can I touch your boobs?" Then you vote for Misty, but she most likely votes for Someone Else, and that person goes home. This is why the game was way better before mini idol.