Rewiring Survivor
After two decades on television and a COVID-induced hiatus, September 22nd marks the highly anticipated return of reality television phenomenon Survivor. But will it ever be exactly the same?
For a long time, I tried to keep my love for the television show Survivor out of polite conversation.
Though you may have never watched an episode, the basics have permeated into American pop culture enough so that I’m sure you can picture the basics. Jeff Probst, suntanned donning cornflower blue button-down and the same khaki shorts your dad wears on vacation. A puka shell or shark tooth pendant. Epic, overarching panoramas of technicolor paradise, hot and humid and wild. Carvings of protoplast men, haggard women in bikinis on the brink of starvation. A one million dollar prize (before tax deductions).
When the topic does come up in conversation, I’m more often than not met with bored and glassy-eyes, paired with an unenthused, “Wow, that show is still airing?”
As a matter of fact, it is. After a COVID-induced 16-month hiatus, the show will be coming back for its forty-first season in September. Despite two decades on the air, it still manages to snag roughly seven million live viewers per episode.
Considering the plethora of louder and more glamorous options provided by the average cable television package, this is a pretty impressive feat. It doesn’t have an ostentatious budget or world-class actors to keep it afloat. The manufactured drama so integral to the many modern reality television series is subdued at best. The formula never shifts much, down to the ritualistic phrases Jeff uses to greet, push, and dismiss his contestants. So what exactly is it that keeps people coming back season after season?
For me, there’s a degree of comfort in the predictability, akin to the folds in one’s bed or the smell of a familiar home-cooked meal. What really sets Survivor apart (for me, anyway) is its unique cultural distinction of surviving largely unvaried and uninterrupted for two full decades. What some might perceive as repetitive aspects serve as environmental controls, which in turn highlights the subtle shifts over time in attitude and demeanor among the ever-rotating stock of protagonists.
For instance, let's take a moment to focus on the language and editing techniques used to portray LGBTQ+ Survivor contestants specifically. Since the show’s beginning in the year 2000, CBS has made an effort to cast a wide variety of queer contestants. Unfortunately, while LGBTQ+ representation in the cast is culturally significant, it doesn’t equate to fair treatment from castmates. Franchise darling “Boston” Rob Mariano rattled off a series of harsh homophobic comments at castmate John Caroll during the fourth season of the series, going so far as to out Carroll on national television. Production hardly batted an eye, inviting Mariano to play again in 2003.
Luckily, while the Survivor format itself remains constant, the outside world from which contestants are plucked continues to turn. In the time following Boston Rob’s debut, historic LGBTQ milestones (such as universal legalization of gay marriage and the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”) have played an immeasurable role in changing public perception of the American gay community. These milestones paved the way for gay contestants like Tai Trang to take on the full-fledged hero roles that are hard not to fall in love with.
There's quantifiable data suggesting real differences in the average person's viewpoint. But there isn’t any heart in a graph or percentage. Survivor, on the other hand, encapsulates and crystallizes a slice of America at the specific moment it airs (as ugly as that may be at times). It is a simple human measurement that shows, not tells, the slow systemic progress we make.
That said, when the first promos for the upcoming season began bouncing around the confines of cyberspace, I was left unsettled rather than comforted.
The first thing that caught my eye was Probst’s hair.
One of those eternally boyish types, the universe had a very specific purpose in mind when molding Jeff Probst. He has always been the perfect outdoorsman/amateur psychologist/commander necessary to steer the ship. Unlike show participants snatched from their daily routine, Jeff exists in an unreality that largely consists of scheming for and moderating a twisted Robinson Crusoe turned game show. There is little indication that he enjoys any earthly pleasure quite as much as hosting Survivor. At this point, he is as crucial an element to the show as the untamed environment.
Despite being a multi-millionaire, Jeff surfaced from hiatus with A MULLET (of all things), a stark contrast from his standard clean-cut look. Just like me and almost everyone else that I know, he clearly sacrificed the luxury of haircuts for at least a portion of the COVID quarantine. More shocking than the length of the locks was the color. In the first look videos posted directly to Jeff Probst’s Twitter profile, signs of greying are clearly visible. Inching in on his 60th birthday, it’s entirely possible – probable, even – that his hair began to lighten some time ago, only to be hidden beneath a dark dye. However, any attempt at masking his age has been abandoned. If Jeff enthusiastically yelling into his camera phone about the game undergoing massive overhaul wasn’t convincing enough, the face of the show dropping the facade of youth solidified that Survivor will be undergoing irrevocable change.
It’s been common knowledge for a while that the forty-first season of Survivor would be implementing structural adaptations in order to meet the demands of 2021. Some of these developments will likely be for the best, such as the long-anticipated opening of applications for Canadian citizens and CBS’ new 50% BIPOC diversity initiative for non-scripted programming. Other aspects, such as a production time shortened from 39 days to 26 (likely due to mandatory COVID quarantines), are less likely to go over well with longtime viewers.
However, Jeff’s new presentation and claims that this season will be a “new kind of monster” suggest that perhaps there’s a deeper psychic transition in the works.
I can’t help but think back to the fourth season I referenced earlier, which was the first to be produced after the September 11th terrorist attacks. Originally slated to take place in Jordan, executives hastily switched the production over to the French Polynesian Marquesas Islands in order to bypass the Middle East altogether. However, it was the unspoken behavioral and editing shifts that really differentiated Survivor: Marquesas from its predecessors. Paschal English’s oft-featured personal item, an American flag, mirrored the patriotic emblems of solidarity lifted across the country in the months following the disaster. At a time in which many felt particularly vulnerable, the camera always seemed to linger an extra moment or two on the prayer circles led by Air Force veteran Vecepia Towery.
While the pandemic has burned slower than the sudden strike of 9/11, the wounds left behind are arguably just as deep. The darkness of the past 18 months has revealed callous truths about ourselves, our loved ones, and the world at large. Without a doubt and regardless of individual reactions, people – the driving, captivating lifeforce behind the series – have changed.
The return of Survivor does mark a return to normalcy. But for those eagerly awaiting a “normal” (and by extension, a Survivor) identical to life before COVID, the wait may never end.