Television Empty, dull, phony and popular
By RAYMOND A. SCHROTH
When CBSs sensational series
Survivor -- about 16 volunteers isolated for 39 days on an
off-Borneo island, allegedly living off the land and eliminating their weaker
members until only one is left -- is studied in graduate school English courses
and deconstructed at the annual meetings of the Modern Language Association,
the scholars will focus on its literary antecedents.
Like Mark Twains story The Man That Corrupted
Hadleyburg, a satire of the Gilded Age, wherein a stranger promises a
sack of gold to the unknown townsperson who aided him some years before, if the
benefactor can identify himself. The competition for the gold reveals a town
full of liars.
Or The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, where the prospectors
fight among themselves until the wind blows their gold dust away. Or The
Lord of the Flies, where the island isolation reduces innocent children to
barbarians. Or Death of A Salesman, where Willie Loman hectors his sons
to be well liked, as if this were the greatest of American
commandments.
Or my favorite, Arthur Conan Doyles Sherlock Holmes story,
The Five Orange Pips -- on film, The House of Fear --
where members of a club who meet in a Scottish mansion on a cliff are horribly
murdered one after the other until only one is left.
Around 18 million people, mostly in the desired under-50 age
group, watch Survivor every Wednesday night. What it has going for
it is not quality but the archetypes it evokes. Especially if we are 16 years
old.
A generation ago, CBS was the proudly adult network. Its news and
documentaries presumed adult intelligence in its audience. Now it lusts for
young viewers. It has aimed Survivor at the values and questions
that most involve the 16-year-old mind: What if nobody likes me? How do I look
in a bathing suit? When do we eat? Do I have to eat that? Why do we have to put
up with those old people? And what if nobody likes me?
If the reader has been in a coma for a month and missed the deluge
of hype surrounding the show, this cross section of Americans must live in this
tropical wilderness, divided into two tribes that compete in
CBS-contrived games that, in the competitive spirit of ABCs Who
Wants to Be A Millionaire, win points for their teams. But every few days
the CBS facilitator calls the tribe together for the solemn ritual of expelling
the weakest member of the group. At the end, the one man or woman left -- the
survivor -- gets 1 million dollars.
If Millionaire is the pop culture epitome of the
Reagan-Bush-Clinton eras odd prosperity, which has multiplied
millionaires and left the poor behind, Survivor speaks for the only
political and moral values that seem to count. Although the tabloid articles
give us their full names, hometowns, occupations and ages, we know virtually
nothing about the participants. We do know that each wants that sack of gold
and must spend every minute manipulating the others, forming alliances, zeroing
in on the perceived weaknesses of others, betraying alliances at the strategic
moment, perhaps offering bribes -- whatever it takes, just so No. 1 is left
standing alone on the beach with the gold.
If it is immoral to put persons in a situation where they will
inevitably sacrifice whatever integrity they have, CBS has given prime time a
show more immoral than the sex-and-violence junk on the other networks. Perhaps
deliberately, it is also a parody of the presidential campaign, where the two
tribes go through the motions of some meaningful activity, bumping
one another off through the summer, with the most Clintonesque
survivor standing alone in his shorts.
Based on the two episodes Ive seen, Survivor is
also one of the emptiest, dullest, phoniest pieces of popular entertainment
Ive ever beheld. Allegedly the cast members live in crude shelters they
have built themselves and eat nothing but what they harvest or catch, while a
few yards away, the ever-present TV crews, producers and publicists enjoy their
high-tech compound. Two episodes have centered on eating -- chowing down ugly
maggot-like worms and cooking the local rats. Yet the young men and women have
retained their healthy, muscular -- one portly -- physiques.
The film editing, done long after the events depicted, gives us no
idea how the members actually spend their empty days, other than gossiping
about one another. Since each episode is constructed to build suspense for the
tribal council meeting where someone gets axed, were treated
to shots of likely candidates to set us up for the climax.
Others take on a few distinguishing characteristics. Dirk, 24, who
reads the Bible, tells us he is sexually inexperienced. Tension. Susan says
shes sick of him preaching Jesus. Furthermore, CBS has provided the
participants with condoms; whether and how they are used will be the subject of
future episodes or the inside story books and articles. Will
homophobia destroy the gay character, Rich, or will he demonstrate gay
assimilation into the larger society?
Meanwhile, these fit young men and women tell the cameras that
they will vote to expel purely on the basis of each persons contribution
to the welfare of the group. So they dumped two of the oldest first and almost
eliminated the third.
As things are going, it is hard to imagine anything other than an
ugly end. When two are left standing, the eliminated will be brought back to
cast the final vote. Even then, how can there be anything but bitterness when
one walks off with a million and the others with snake bites and skin cancer
and shattered hopes of TV and Hollywood contracts?
There is an answer. I hesitate to reveal it here because some
people dont want to know story endings before they happen.
Im told that the last survivor with a conscience on the CBS
board of directors had a visitation from the ghost of Edward R. Murrow, granted
leave from Great Correspondents Heaven to stop this show before it got
worse.
As a result, the editors and producers have re-scrambled the
footage for the final episode, based on The House of Fear. In that
film, Sherlock Holmes deduces that the murdered club members faked their deaths
in an ingenious insurance fraud. Theyre all alive in a cave under the
cliff.
Remember how each Wednesday night a humiliated castaway was forced
to snuff out his/her candle -- The tribe has spoken! -- and shuffle
off into the darkness? Well, they never left. They were moved secretly to a
CBS-Marriott resort on the far side of the island where they lived high, ate
well and prepared their retribution. Those earlier post-exile TV appearances on
CBS News and Larry King Live? Faked. In the last minute, when the
super-political, smooth talking, back-stabbing last survivor thinks he/she has
triumphed, the full tribe will emerge from the jungle, condemn the
winner for his/her deceptions, divide half the prize money equally
among them all and give the other half to poor people.
Now, dont tell anyone who wants to be surprised. But
remember, you read it here first.
Jesuit Fr. Raymond A. Schroth is at St. Peters College in
Jersey City, N.J. His e-mail address is
schroth@murray.fordham.edu
National Catholic Reporter, July 14,
2000
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