TV Review
In Survivor NZ’s new season, no one is irritating: where’s the fun in that?
‘ W hat have we gotten ourselves into?” wailed a contestant. The sadomasochistic Survivor reality competition franchise has been around since 2000. By now surely everyone seeking $250,000 and a chance to experience 40 days of starvation, culturally inappropriate tribal props, the hectoring of an annoying host and the sort of friendships that can only be forged in an atmosphere of remorseless scheming and vicious backstabbing knows the score.
But it became clear not everyone on Survivor NZ’s second series had done their homework. “I just didn’t get around to watching it in the last 10 years,” confessed office manager Tess.
Still, her bio says she’s been mugged in England and lost in Latvia, so surviving an island in Thailand should be a piece of cake. Or at least a handful of raw rice which, on this show, counts as dinner.
No Redemption Island this season, announced host Matt Chisholm. No second chance for those voted off the island. No afterlife, just the purgatorial present. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. “When you’re gone,” as Chisholm gleefully intoned, “you’re gone.”
Then it was straight into a typically pointless challenge involving untying endless knots and finding endless bags. Swim, run, sweat, fail. You could see Survivor as a metaphor for life in a meaningless universe, but I’m not sure that helps much.
The winner was audio post producer Jose. She had to choose a sidekick, Matt, who is, wonderfully, a rocket technician. Lord knows this isn’t rocket science, but it can’t hurt. The two chose their tribes from fellow contestants. Jose was emerging as a leader. “That could definitely put a target on her back,” mused a teammate darkly. Survivor may have something to say about the age of Jacinda.
The two tribes, Jose’s Chani and Matt’s Khang Khaw, then competed in a disturbing challenge involving something resembling single-sex mud wrestling in search of more wretched bags. It got quite violent.
“She was, like, trying to drown me!” reported an indignant competitor. This drew particularly wild commentary from Chisholm: “Four blokes going hard all over that bag!” He has yet to rival the classic clangers of former Sky rugby commentator Murray Mexted – “You don’t like to see hookers going down on players like that” – but it’s early days.
Chani lost and would have to face the dreaded tribal council. Meanwhile, it was off to construct the rival camps. Dear oh dear. Chani’s Karla discovered that machetes are sharp and cut her hand. Khang Khaw won a prize of flint and were rejoicing unwisely in a roaring fire.
Any rejoicing on Survivor seems to invite instant divine retribution. The rocks they’d used to surround the fire started exploding, hurling hot fragments in all directions. I suppose in these cautious times there is some entertainment to be had in watching a show laugh cruelly in the face of health and safety.
And all reality shows in some ways, if you squint hard enough, reflect the times in which we live. Last season Hannah, supercapable plus-size model and power lifter, got voted off in the first episode. This time Jose got the boot once the tragically misspelt voting papers were tallied. Strong women don’t tend to fare well.
But that’s about as intellectually nourishing as it got. I hope it’s not the curse of New Zealand again. We seem to drain the life out of television franchises after one breathlessly reported season. So far, none of the competitors is particularly irritating or eccentric, and where’s the fun in that? It’s not like we expect a lot. As a younger viewer in our living room observed, “You just want to see someone have a massive drama or throw up.” The promo for the second episode indicated at least one of those two requirements would be fulfilled. Maybe it was the raw rice.
Survivor NZ, TV2, Sunday, 7pm.
All reality shows, if you squint hard enough, reflect the times in which we live.