Episode
2
Going Underneath the Top
Days 4-6: November
15-17, 2001
Aired: March 7, 2002
Which tribe was
the 'Love Tribe,' again? Hunter shows Rob that the proper strategy
is not to tie yourself down to one woman so quickly.
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One of Survivor's favorite viewer-ensnaring tricks is to open the
show in the camp of the previous episode's losing tribe. This allows
the producers to get an inside (translated: cheap night-vision) look at
the knife-sharpening theatrics of the angry, angry contestants, as the
tensions raised in tribal council subsequently spill over in continuously-filmed
semi-private. And this episode is no different. Or is it?
According to the graphic on the screen, we're in the
Rotu camp, on the last night of Episode 1. But they didn't lose,
did they? And what's going on here? Seems to be some sort
of group-groping thing, and there's Gabe in a voice-over, proclaiming
them the "Love Tribe." We knew that, since this is Episode 2, and
the contestants are due to eat some of the foulest "food" imaginable,
there would be much vomiting involved this week. We just didn't
think it would be this soon. Has the whole world gone mad?
Ah, but there's poor, uh, "assertive" Kathy sleeping
outside the hut by the fire. Looking for all the world like it was
in a van, down by the river. Maybe this is Survivor after
all. Yes, yes, it must be, because, after spending all of three
days eating the abundant fruits of their tropical paradise, the Rotus
are whining about the food already. Robert is apparently on death's
door, because he hasn't been able to go through the McDonald's drive-thru
in over 72 hours. Luckily, Scheming John has come up with a surefire
plan to save Robert, and pick up the cool million at the same time: Taking
Mark Burnett hostage, then sailing off into the South Pacific on the production
crew's luxury liner, all the while singing jaunty pirate shanties.
Truly, it's a scary thing what three days without highly-processed animal
protein will do to the human brain.
Actually, Rotu has come up with several "innovative" (highly
comical) hunting devices, most of which seem to have been ordered straight
out of Wile E. Coyote's treasured Acme catalog, and involve some kind
of stretchable rubber band thing. We're particularly impressed with
John's pig snare, which might actually work if a curious pig mistook the
bright yellow snare for, say, a six-foot length of Tropical Banana fruit
roll-ups, or something. Still, John's pretty sure this is his ticket
to the final four. It's not clear how he's going to off the retarded
(possibly drugged) pig who may someday eventually trip the snare, but
we're pretty sure he plans to bore it to death with a marathon discussion
of his brilliant strategies.
Over at Maraamu, boredom has set up a beachead as well, and
the "Brains Tribe" decides to pass the time by giving America what it
so desperately needs - yet another "wild and crazy" morning radio team.
Resident cut-up Hunter "Mad Dog" Ellis delivers a hilarious riff on the
most funny of all topics, the weather, leaving the entire drive-time audience
in stitches, shortly after they crash their cars into the median strip
from their uncontrollable gales of laughter. Rob "Hacksaw" Mariano
chips in with a side-splitting description of breakfast foods, and "Kooky"
Sean Rector brings it home with a song that everyone seems to think they've
heard, or at least are willing to smile politely at, to make it appear
that way. Sadly, the unmitigated success of the indie operation
is snuffed quickly, as the station is bought by Clear Channel later that
hour, and replaced by a feed of Howard Stern, followed by a computerized
playlist featuring a Staind or Creed song at least once every twenty minutes.
That and Momma (Patriica) tells everyone to get off their lazy butts and
get back to work.
Apparently, now that goofy Peter is no longer cramping her
dictatorial style, what with his constant "chilling" and such, Momma is
happy to let it all hang out. If something needs doing, she's not
afraid to roll back her spandex and frighten someone else into helping
her do it. Gina is pleased with this development, because otherwise
she'd have to be the bossy Southern chick herself, and besides, she's
too busy trying to convince everyone that, since Sarah is covered in no-no
scabs, she (Gina) deserves to be crowned Miss Maraamu, swimsuit competition
be damned!
Things are moving along swimmingly back at Rotu, as their
collective efforts have produced a mammoth haul of one scrawny-looking
shrimp. But in no time at all, Kathy is whistling up a storm, and
showing poor John up by inviting everyone to a tasty feast of slithery
things smashed against the rocks. Today's entree: slimy stuff, sand,
and bits of shell. Dig in! Oh yeah, you'll be your own server
today. And build me a hut while you're up, okay?
And as the commercial break draws closer, tantalizingly
closer, we're treated to one more round of Patricia laying down the law
in Maraamu. Shockingly, this doesn't go over well with the rest
of the tribe, most of whom are convinced that they, themselves, should
be the one bossing everyone around. Hooray! Twenty minutes
down, and no action! Unless you count Momma getting rubbed down
by Hunter, or Rotu's merciless bivalve slaughter.
Luckily, when we come back, there's still time to slip
in one of Mark Burnett's most treasured themes - all African-American
men are lazy - before the reward challenge. True, he did depart
from this in the African version, where he implied that some may be thieves
as well, but it just wouldn't be Survivor without a product placement
ad for the Aryan Nations. Admittedly, there are new wrinkles this
time: Sean is smart and devoutly Christian. But above all, he must
also be abjectly lazy. How do these casting interviews go, exactly?
"You have a tremendous resume, sir, and that Nobel Prize in Chemistry
looks like it's yours to lose this year, but we have a Korean-American
gentleman who we just can't turn down for the 'ethnic male' slot, not
unless you can agree to sit around lackadaisically for hours on end once
you get out there. Do we have a deal?"
But there's always bossy Kathy to distract us from
such issues, and she tells Rotu in no uncertain terms that if she's going
to be the slime-encrusted crustacean winner around here, they'd better
get busy building her a shelter, chop chop. And no shoving her out
of this one at night. Oh, and you'd better thank me for the food
while you're at it. Seriously, why is it that everyone is a bunch
of assholes, and I'm the only normal person? Can't you people answer
that? Huh? Ingrates.
Eventually, the reward challenge happens, sometime
in the fifth hour of the show. All they have to do is remove rocks
from a sunken rowboat, bail it out, then row to shore. Proving once
again why they are universally known as the Brains Tribe, Maraamu approaches
this strategically, deciding it's best for Hunter to do all the diving
and rock-moving parts, since Sarah can't get to the bottom without a weighted
belt. Meanwhile, Rotu not only sends the entire tribe down in small
teams, they quickly figure out it's easier just to turn the boat over
and dump the rocks out. Maraamu notices this, and waits for Hunter
to get it done. By this time, Rotu has also figured out that dumping
the boat over speeds up the bailing process, too. As Rob goes down
and removes one more rock, it almost occurs to someone in Maraamu that
this might have been a good time to have had Peter around, holding his
breath for hours, but then they notice a shiny penny in the water, and
they get distracted. Hours have passed since Rotu has wandered away,
giddily clutching their fishing equipment prize, when Jeff Probst decides
to call the challenge, since it appears the Maraamu have forgotten all
about the racing aspect, and are stretching out on their dock to catch
a few rays. Once again, he is heard to mutter, "I can't believe
I gave up Rock 'n' Roll Jeopardy for this."
Having done so well in yet another challenge, it's time for
Maraamu to bicker again about hut-building. Like Sean, Patricia,
Rob, and probably Gina, Sarah is annoyed that everyone else has annointed
the wholly undeserving Hunter the leader, when it should righfully be
her. When this is not immediately made so, she stalks off in a huff.
Everyone else, feeling betrayed and oppressed by Hunter's easygoing charm
and grinning white teeth, swiftly follows suit.
Which is, of course, the ideal preparation for the gross
food immunity challenge. In a brilliant leap of directing genius,
this season's delectable delicacy is fafaru, which is essentially raw
fish marinated in fermented water. Mmm. Although, and far be it
from us to point out the obvious, it looks exactly like sushi. Which
is actually quite tasty. Sure, the stench of fafaru may well be
overpowering, but psst, Mark: you can't smell things that are on TV...
pass it on. As always, everyone eats the allegedly foul stuff.
And only Rob, who we'll note seemed to have about 10 times the volume
of fish his competitor Neleh did, has the courtesy to bring it back up
to show the audience watching at home. That being during the final
faceoff, Rotu wins immunity, and it's back to Tribal Council for the brilliant
Tribe With Seven Chiefs.
Once there, they break with protocol of seasons past, and
openly attack one another. Hey, maybe this is like the first season,
after all! Cruelly, Mark Burnett seems to have bowed to censor wishes,
and edited out the clothes-shredding Gina-Sarah catfight that erupted
during Jeff Probst's interrogation, but there's still hope that the same
matchup will soon be featured on FOX's Celebrity Boxing.
Judging from the caliber of that show's lineup, this group should be desperate
enough to participate in about, oh... three hours after the final episode
airs. Anyway, after much subterfuge (including Sean swearing either
he or Sarah are toast), Patricia gets the boot. Around America,
people mark their calendars for the oddly-scheduled next episode, silently
begrudging the fact that they may have to sit through a full hour of this
just to see the Snickers commercial.
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Episode
1
Back to the Bitching
Days 1-3: November
12-14, 2001
Aired: February 28, 2002
"Okay guys, let's
all sit around the campfire, hold hands, and listen to me sing Kumbaya
for four hours. And no, my last name isn't Brady, why do you ask?"
(Peter, who may want to nudge the dial back just a teensy bit from 11).
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In a brilliant move of counterprogramming, CBS decided to whack the kneecaps
of NBC's Winter Olympics ratings juggernaut by having a show set in a
warm, tropical climate, filled with half-naked young people. No
parkas here! Sadly, FOX wouldn't sell them Temptation Island
3, so they had to make do with Survivor. And judging
from the trouncing the last installment took from a running-on-fumes show
like Friends, Captain Moonves and his crew decided that perhaps
the best strategy might be to not compete directly with the Olympics,
but instead to hang around outside until it was over. Surely there
had to be more than a few couch potatoes still frozen stiff from watching
one too many ice dancing competitions, right? Well then, backstabbing
and bikinis should cure that right up.
And if this bore more than a passing resemblance to
the season of Survivor that people actually liked (Psst, it was
the first one, Mark, even if you did loudly proclaim the Africa version
as the best season ever), so much the better. Of course, now that
even the minutest detail of the game's rules and strategies has been bent,
folded, spindled and mutilated many times over, it will take all of Mark
Burnett's editing hocus-pocus, not to mention an army of ILM magicians,
to make the show's tired formula seem fresh and original. So perhaps
a little tweaking is in order.
Is it ever! Sadly, because he disappears way
too quickly, most of the tweaking on this episode is done by none other
than Peter, the hyper-exciteable yoga-talking guy, who likes to relax
by blabbering incomprehensibly about orifices and bodily functions. Simply
put, he is the dream of every person who likes to write bitter, nasty
things about reality TV shows. We demand a recount! But we're getting
ahead of ourselves here. (Oh come on, everyone on the planet knew he was
getting the boot. Try to keep up, please).
Anyway, we open, as always (*sigh*) with Jeff Probst
speaking very dramatically about what we're about to witness. But
this time, there's a twist! Within seconds of the Probster firing
up his melodramatic spiel, Sarah begins puking into a bucket. Ahh,
we knew there was something to like about her. Secretly, we hope
her strategy is to win the other's favor by doing this every time Jeffy
opens his mouth. And it doubles as a simple, easy-to-maintain diet
plan! Shockingly, Jeff informs us that there will be sixteen people
this time, and the torture will last 39 days. And, after the requisite
preaching about forming "a new society" and such, it's time to dump our
new friends in the ocean, and watch 'em fight.
The Rotu tribe gets the camera's attention first as
they row off, singing songs, paddling in unison, and generally seeming
like a bunch of teen-pop kids at summer camp. We already despise
them. They get to their camp, do the group grabbing-hands thing,
and are generally as blandly happy happy happy as the "It's A Small World"
ride. But at least they don't have food.
Meanwhile, Maraamu reveals itself to be the entertaining,
dysfunctional tribe, as well as the ones who can't pronounce their own
name. This may be because several of the people in this tribe may
fare poorly if there's ever a mental challenge, but that's also why we
like them. Peter of course is the first to talk to the camera from
this tribe, further confirming he won't be around next week. As
they row to shore, Sarah stops paddling and stands up in the raft, in
an apparent attempt to use her built-in personal flotation devices as
sails. Strangely enough, this experiment does not appear successful,
although it does catch the ire of Sean. Who then proceeds to ingratiate
himself to his tribe by playing dead on the raft once they hit the shore,
then trying to exorcise Peter's Kundalini demons with an impromptu beachfront
baptism cermony. Aw yeah, it's all good.
Sensing that those chatty Maraamu are stealing all
the camera time, the Rotu decide to get tough. The show needs a
villain, and it might as well be one of us, they decide. Kathy draws
the short straw, and gets her toes wet by bossing people around.
Demonstrating her limitless knowledge of Survivors past, she orders
the tribe to stop fiddling around with that silly magnifying glass, and
get to making fire the patented Keith Famie way: rubbing sticks together.
This not only endears her to her tribe, but allows them to, well, rub
sticks together. Gabe demonstrates his lack of familiarity with
daytime TV staples by comparing Kathy to the Skipper. Hello?
Was Kathy walking around, hitting people over the head with her hat?
If so, why wasn't this shown? Hmm, maybe he was talking about his
Barbie collection, or something.
Well if Kathy is the Skipper, Hunter (back in Maraamu)
is definitely the Professor. Or as Sean (now playing the role of
Presidential giver of nicknames) puts it, MacGuyver. Although for
all Hunter's alleged smarts, it's Peter and his mystical bag of yoga-tainted
wind that gets fire going for Maraamu. Seriously, how can this guy
get booted?
Later, as soon as it gets dark, Rob and Sarah eye the
raft conspiratorially, noting its remarkable resemble to a waterbed.
Minus the water of course, but you get the idea. If there was one.
But anyway, as they leap in together, one tangled mass of air-filled spaces,
no doubt discussing the latest theories in particle physics, the rest
of the tribe looks on with suspicion. Are they there forming alliance?
Nope, just spooning.
Back at Rotu, Kathy seems upset that she got the role
of being the bitchy one. To compensate, she bosses the rest of the
tribe around some more. "We're going to go frolic at the waterfall,
get food and have fun, dammit, or I'm going to have to break some skulls."
After the requisite frolicking, food-gathering, and water retention, it's
time for Kathy to whine about the fire again.
It's day two at Maraamu, and they still haven't figured
out how to pronounce their name. Rob guesses "Shamu," then proceeds
to chase some chickens. As it turns out, wild rooster chases are
about as successful as pursuits of other fowl. But it does bring
back fond, bluegrass-tinged memories of good old Tom. Clearly, Rob
was cast on this show to demonstrate that New Englanders can be just as
slow-witted and unintelligible as people from the South. Yee-haw!
Meanwhile, the stress of being the designated nag is
starting to wear on Kathy. But she does win some Surviwhore points
by shedding copious quantities of tears, so all is not lost. John
builds tribe unity back by ignoring Kathy's instructions, and uses the
magnifying glass to start the fire. Even boring Rotu has advanced
to caveman status. Thankfully, they're largely absent from the rest
of the show.
Now it's time for Maraamu to find their water source.
Rotu got a scenic waterfall/ swimming pool. And Maraamu gets...
a slightly cleaner version of poor Samburu's elephant dung-infested swamp.
Sorry guys! Those are the breaks. Better luck next reality
show. With all the necessities out of the way, Peter takes a quick
poll of his tribe, and they all tell him he may want to ease up on the
crack just a tad. So he gets Sean to teach him some chill techniques.
In Peter's hands, this apparently involves extended monologues on vaguely
biological theories, as gleaned from dietary supplement publications and
the visitor's guide to Sedona, Arizona. Sarah pats her head, in
a silent gesture to the camera crew to please, please, hurry up with that
straightjacket we ordered two hours ago. Luckily (for Peter), the
treemail for the IC arrives first.
Making a gigantic departure from Survivors past,
this first challenge involves moving heavy things and lighting fires.
Whew, where do they come up with this stuff? In a show of good spirit,
Maraamu makes it interesting by trying repeated experiments to see if
water burns. First, they check to see if they can light their torches
from the floating fire buoy after they've dunked it under water.
Not satisfied with this result, Sarah takes it upon herself to replicate
the finding by dipping the torch beneath the waves. Deciding that
getting the same result twice is good enough for most scientific publications,
Maraamu race back to shore, to fax their discovery off to Nature.
Getting back, they remember they were actually racing for immunity, which
Rotu has long since won. Oh, the humanity!
Then the wheels totally come off the Survivor
truck. In the minutes left before tribal council, Mark Burnett casts
his evil eye on three possible bootees - Tricia, Peter and Sarah - and
all three actually get votes! We'll have to go back and check the
record books, but this may be a first. Not falling for Peter's detailed
explanation of his surefire strategy for team success (which appeared
to be "everyone should vote for someone other than me"), the tribe easily
boots the bug-eyed yoga master. He completes the subtle references
to TV staples past by giving the patented Fonzie double-thumbed salute
to his tribemates as he departs. At least they didn't show him jumping
over a shark on water skis. Then again, that part was probably edited
out.
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