You're off the Island

You know I am not one to extol the virtues of reality television. I’m much more of a fiction gal. Apart from the fact that most reality TV is debased, depressing, degrading and dismal – it’s keeping great writers out of work and it’s force feeding a generation of tv audiences so much junk food they wouldn’t recognize great television even if I gave them a map (you take a left on 100 Centre Street, you rest in Deadwood, and if you Love My Way you’ll be lucky enough to join a tour of the West Wing).

But I must admit I do have a weakness, one that began 12(!) seasons ago with the now famous catchcry :

Survivors ready?

Tonight was episode 1 of Survivor Panama: Exile Island where we were introduced to our new castaways - and what an extremely American bunch they were. Favourites so far include The Missile Engineer, The Astronaut and The Writer (can you guess which one is doomed from the get go?).

I don’t know their names, names are not important at this juncture. They’ve always got cool jobs these people. Remember last season there was a guy who was an actual Rocket Scientist? There was a Dolphin Trainer, a Chef, and Fireman too at one point.

What is its appeal? Maybe it’s the combination of several of my favorite stories – Lord of The Flies, Treasure Island, Peter Pan. Maybe it’s the resourcefulness needed to build a shelter, start a fire, catch fish. Maybe it’s the knowledge that I wouldn’t last a minute out there - I like to think I’m tough, but faced with an obstacle course I’d be running for the nearest hammock!

Maybe it’s the sight of Jeff (sigh) Probst in shorts – glowing with good health by the light of the tribe torches.

At its heart is a very character driven show. Who can forget Rupert the Pirate, Boston Rob, Johnny Fairplay, and the classic Richard Hatch? But to be honest with you I'm hard pressed to find any justification for my attachment to it. But attached I am.

I get a wee bit weary of the overly healthy athletic types with their excellent abdomens and ability to maintain cuteness despite not having bathed for three weeks - I can't maintain cuteness for any longer than three hours - after that the wheels fall off.

For once I’d like to see a tribe like this

Simon the Slacker
Jim the Paranoid Schizophrenic
Dave the Psychic
Suzy the Manic Depressive
Ramona the Couch Potato
Jean Pierre the Terrorist
Misty the Heroin Addict

We would kick ass. Maybe do some psychological damage while we’re at it…

PS - all week on Handmadelife (a magazine blog venture created by excellent cohort Beck and myself) it's all about Survivor craft, check it out!