Mon, October 9, 2006

They tell me the ratings for this year's Survivor season opener were the worst for a season premiere since its very first episode. I can't understand why. What's not to like? A controversial race-based distribution of contestants? A score that sounds more like the theme to SeaQuest DSV than ever before? Certainly not the repeated b-roll of that whale splashing around in the ocean – America loves whale footage. Fox is planning to take the midseason by storm with Dancing with Cetaceans. I suppose there's one possibility: if America's like me (it isn't; America likes Grey's Anatomy), it's sick and fucking tired of Exile Island, multiple remmunity challenges, and starting the game with 20 people. (And it's still only a 39-day game, which means we'll be hit with at least one of those "dual Tribal Council" episodes. Gah!)

Now that I think about it, it's probably the race thing. Everyone focuses on the negative: four teams divided by ethnic background and scattered onto four separate but equal islands. It does leave a sort of bad taste in your mouth. (Although you'll notice the term "race" is rarely used. "Race" sounds like half of "racist" – better to use "ethnicity" or "cultural background." Nobody ever bemoans this country's "cultural backgroundism problem." Then again, nobody shouts "Go, Speed Ethnicity-er!" either.) What people fail to realize is, after The Amazing Race Heritage: Family Edition had an African American team called "the Black Family," this was just the next logical step. If you look at it right, it's really a positive. For one thing, it forced the Survivor casting department out of a rut. Compelled to dig through the few minority audition tapes they get, they've produced the first cast in recent memory that includes no bartenders or pharmaceutical reps! (Also, almost no old people, a trend which has miraculously extended to The Amazing Race as well. I don't know how we got so lucky.) Plus, contestants always love to ally with their former teammates after the inevitable shuffle and later the inevitable merge. This way, you never have to worry about forgetting who was on your first team.

For all its hoopla, this approach hasn't changed the game very much, especially since these four-team scenarios never last more than a couple of weeks. It probably made the ice-breaking part of the game a little easier. All the teams seemed to have a "we can just be ourselves" attitude at camp (except whiteys; we're always us, much to everyone's chagrin). This was slightly less noticeable on Puka, the Asian team: I think that's one situation where you can't oversimplify and lump all these separate backgrounds together just because they look alike. Expecting Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, and Japanese people to instantly bond because of their color is like expecting a black guy from Detroit, a Kenyan, and a Bahamian to find some shared cultural touchstone. But Burnett didn't ask his producer-monkeys to craft some insightful, nuanced study of American race relations – he just told 'em to punch up the 'zazz!

Of course, this paid enormous dividends in one area: the team shuffle. Men and women stood in two separate lines, drew tiles to determine two captains from each gender, selected teammates in a kickball pick with the extra restriction that they had to pick a different race each time, and then the captains selected eggs to merge these four groups down to two coed teams. Nothing says "ratings spike" like a convoluted ten-minute kickball pick with a narrator. The excitement of demographics coupled with the wild thrill of standing in line! Somebody flip over to Smallville, and cut my arm off so I can't accidentally flip back!

Nevertheless, the show is under way, and here are the main points so far:

Ozzy vs. Jon

I have this eerie premonition that it'll be Ozzy and Jon in the final two. It somehow seems fitting: a guy I relentlessly hate, versus a guy I realize has flaws but I like how he handles himself in the game – which means I'll start defending him now and then I'll be stuck with him in 4-6 weeks when he turns out to be a total douche. Ethical dilemma! The only good thing about Ozzy is that I know he won't win. It's an established fact that the same person can't win Survivor twice in a row. The reason Terry didn't win is that Tom had just won before him. Aras won last time, and Ozzy is just a scrappy, Hispanic Aras. QED.

When Probst asks most people how the team will change after that night's vote, they take the opportunity to coyly reveal who they're voting for. ("Well... everyone who's left will be a good worker.") Not Ozzy – when he gets the question, he flatly replies that people's loyalties will be revealed, and he'll know if he can take them at their word. (Don't vote based on your strategy, kids! Vote to keep Ozzy from scowling at you!) Around camp, he says things like, "It gets tiring, having to tell someone what to do." Poor Ozzy! I've been over this whole workhorse/layabout issue many times before, so I won't go into the whole rant, except to add this: no group of five people will ever all want to do anything the exact same amount – especially work around a campsite. You've got to pick your level of investment and live with it. I get the feeling it would be very difficult for anyone to be lazy enough to affect the survival experience of his team, because there is so much downtime that we're mercifully spared from watching. (What's worse than ten minutes of people standing in line on mats? The preceding six hours of them not standing in line on mats.) Anyone working harder than Gervase should be given a pass.

Ozzy incorporates the worst of Rupert, too: sulking when he doesn't get his way and referring to ousted teammate Cecilia as the one "who helped me lay the foundation for everything these people are going to enjoy." That's rich. He's means she helped him build the shelter at Aitu beach, where these people were randomly relocated by the shuffle. But it sounds an awful lot like "my island/my adventure" to me.

I like Jon quite a lot, because he talks the way I'd talk in the game, making logical arguments but not overextending himself with false promises that will erode trust later. You can't go around promising everyone final two; instead, help them see how a certain vote can work for both of you, and leave it at that. Plus, he reminds Jessica that a strategy of allying with friends is doomed: "Everybody you like is going to get voted off this thing." Exactly! That's how it works.

That whole conversation between him and Jessica is fantastic, because he is like an economics professor with this even, reasonable tone and a bunch of coherent points, and she's just kind of sitting there like his 10-year-old daughter. She gets his point, but she doesn't want to hear facts and logic – she wants to have a gut feeling. He keeps adjusting, asking her questions about what her point is, because they're approaching this decision from opposite emotional standpoints. I love that he's trying to understand her reasoning – it's a futile quest we seldom see on Survivor. Neither of them is technically wrong, it's just hilarious watching them talk since their outlooks couldn't be more different. And the hat adds so much to it. Right out of the wardrobe truck from Oliver Beene, it's part "1968 Dad on vacation in Daytona" and part "octogenarian Jewish ex-mobster at the dog track." Perching it on a doughy, shirtless guy trying to strategize with a dazed punk girl with wadded dreadlock pigtails sitting on a log in the middle of nowhere – the effect is staggering. The delicious part is, he seems to be a very bright guy but somehow he can't figure out that she's the absolute wrong person to be having this conversation with.

I sometimes fantasize about going on Survivor, just to say the things people refuse to say. For example: whenever there's a hint of someone being labeled a "leader" at an early TribCon, there's always that immediate spin campaign. What if it's super obvious that you've taken charge of some situations? I'd say, "I'm happy to provide direction if that's what you want to call it. But this is a great team and none of us needs a boss." You avoid obviously lying to save yourself from some hypothetical mutiny, and you're still getting the point across that you don't think you're better than anyone. All these people know what you've been doing at camp - it makes no sense to deny it. You don't necessarily look like a threat just for being a leader, as long as you haven't made some awkward power grab. (Or, obfuscated needlessly for the sake of your own ego.) Jon is great, because he says a lot of the things I'd want to. It probably means he can't win, though, since there's no room for reason in this game.

The Thrown Challenge

The one reason I would like Ozzy if I didn't hate him so much is that it's his idea to throw an immunity challenge to get rid of Billy. I don't have anything against Billy, but I always love this strategic move. It's especially entertaining in this case because they pick such a terrible time to do it. Today, it'd be a breeze, because you only have to lose to one team. But a couple of weeks ago it was a four-team affair, which makes throwing a challenge a tough proposition. (And it really makes Hiki look bad – we're struggling to lose to you!)

It begins with a Survivor first: an actual debate over who'll sit out the challenge. Billy wants to sit out for obvious reasons (either his laziness, or simple pragmatism – he's the slow one); Cristina wants to abstain because she wants no part in throwing the challenge; JP wants to ride the bench because he thinks the easiest way to cripple a team is to take himself off it. JP wins out, but it's kind of a dumb decision. Besides being ridiculously suspicious, it's flawed logic: they're competing against three other non-JP teams, so the playing field is now level regarding the all-important JP Awesomeness Factor. And he's ceding control to those with less devotion to the idea of throwing the challenge. Is he really comfortable with Aitu winning the challenge if Cristina decides to give it her all? A man throws a challenge by participating and performing poorly; sitting out is a coward's move.

In the challenge, we learn that the key strategic factor isn't deciding whether to throw a challenge, but how. Ozzy's all over the map trying to find ways to slow them down, and it makes sense, because you have to go very slow. The challenge ends with a matching quiz based on the story Coach Probst read at the start, so it's critical to reach the quiz station only after the other teams have finished. Get there too early, and Billy can theoretically assemble the quiz himself. How do you go slow enough without arousing suspicion? Seems to me you'd want to fall down a lot, because that's easier to explain than walking slow. Of course, Ozzy's got the bases covered in the event they accidentally reach the quiz station – during story time, he hilariously adopts a defiant "not paying attention" pose. Sound unnecessary? Remember: they purposely cast people so self-involved they can't resist expressing every thought with hyperbolic body language, even if it gives away information better kept secret.

It gets pretty silly toward the end, and it seems like Billy has caught on. After the rewards and immunity are distributed, we're treated to this awkward little exchange with Candice, who's standing on Raro's adjacent finish mat:

Candice: I feel really bad for you guys.

Billy: I'm next. [referring to the vote]

Candice: We love you.

Billy: I love you.

It seems like an innocent moment of sympathy, but we'll later learn it's a monumentally regrettable choice of words on Candice's part.

The Love Connection

Billy has managed to misinterpret this fleeting moment as "love at first sight" between himself and Candice, a pretty farfetched conclusion. She's found her match already – or didn't he see the sleep-imprint of Adam's nipple on the side of her face?

At TribCon, Billy flatly informs Probst that his prize was "not the million dollars," but "her." What follows is the most priceless Tribal Council moment ever, with the women on his team laughing uncontrollably, and Probst leaning forward, eyes widened and mouth agape. He appears to do a spit take, despite having nothing in his mouth to spit out. As Billy makes it clear he's dead serious – he actually believes they're a couple now – Probst is reduced to giggling behind his hand like a schoolgirl. (If anyone has room to laugh at someone for finding love on Survivor, it certainly isn't Probst.) It's indescribably hilarious – like something out of The Office or Curb Your Enthusiasm, but all the more squirm-inducing because it's actually real. And I think it may be the first time the vote has ever actually changed at Tribal Council. Cristina had organized a seemingly solid vote against Ozzy before, but after this it would just be too painful. Based on a later interview, I think Cristina actually gets rid of Billy to avoid the catastrophically uncomfortable moment when he'd have tried to confirm his feelings with Candice after a challenge or (God forbid) post-merge.

After Billy's gone, Probst somehow sums it up with a straight face: "Two issues emerged tonight: work ethic and trust." Um, HELLO? Those issues are way down the line, buster! Hasn't he been on this show long enough to recognize TV history in the making?

What's the protocol for something like this? Does Probst have to tell Candice? Fortunately, Cecilia's all too delighted to bring it up as soon as the freshly shuffled Aitu returns to the camp she helped build. I have to say, I have a new respect for Candice after this conversation. She handles herself well for someone who just found out about the soul mate she never knew she had. She tells a very accurate version of what happened, and doesn't make it about her at all. Generally, she seems a lot more interesting as an Aitu member. I've always said, split them from their cuddle buddies and they'll rise to the occasion (or, at the very least, you'll force the editors to pick a less obvious story).

At any rate, this year I'm looking forward to the live reunion show for the first time ever!

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