Survival of the dullest

The future is here, and instead of 15 minutes of fame everyone's going to get several episodes' worth. Can anonymity survive "Survivor"?

By Carina Chocano

Jul 26, 2000 | Last week, on a freezing San Francisco morning, I went out to the Marina Green, a park next to the yacht harbor, to watch the second round of open auditions for "Survivor II: The Outback," which, as the title suggests, will take place in the Australian hinterlands. While back-stabbing among kangaroos promises to be entertaining for misanthrope and naturalist alike, as far as the auditions went, there wasn't much to see.

Fifty or so hazy and tentative hopefuls -- looking even hazier and more tentative for the fog -- milled around the wet grass, clutching applications and waiting for their three minutes of tape time. Told to do whatever they thought necessary to capture the attention of the show's executive producers, about half the applicants I watched ran out of things to say before their allotted time expired.

The night before, on "Survivor," the tribal council had voted Greg Buis off the island and, that morning, he had declined to appear on CBS's "The Early Show" with Bryant Gumbel. Sensing a "Survivor"-shaped hole in the morning's offerings, CBS invited Ramona Gray, a former "Survivor" contestant, to appear in Buis' place. "Early Show" co-host Hattie Kauffman introduced Gray:

Kauffman: "As we noted earlier, Greg Buis decided not to give any interviews. So we invited another non-'Survivor' back, Ramona Gray." [Then to Gray] "Good morning. I don't want to call you a non-'Survivor.'"

Gray: "Good morning."

Kauffman: "Here you are, alive and breathing."

Gumbel then explained that aside from living and breathing, Gray was, more importantly, working as a consultant to people who want to be contestants on the next incarnation of "Survivor." But as Gray began recounting the events that had led to her new career, weatherman Mark McEwen cut in with the question on everybody's mind:

McEwen: "What's it like walking through the world? Do people stop you in malls and go, 'Yo, Ramona!'?

Gray: "Yes."

McEwen: "Do you like it?"

People who watch "Survivor," like people who audition for the show, are less motivated by the travel, the adventure and the shot in hell at winning the money than they are by the idea of what effect sudden fame will have on their lives. No matter what they tell the camera on the day of their audition, what most of them want -- beyond the experience and the challenge -- is to be on TV, just like the weatherman.

Somewhere in the recondite corners of their minds contestant wannabes are convinced that if a camera points at them long enough, they will be transmogrified into someone whose life is really worth living. It seems that most applicants are more attracted by the chance of having their current reality obliterated and replaced than by the experience of betraying their peers in a bucolic setting. After all, they can do that at the company picnic.

When I asked Tyler Cowen, an economics professor and director of the Mercatus Center at George Mason University in Arlington, Va., and the author of "In Praise of Commercial Culture" and "What Price Fame?" what really motivates the average person to audition for a reality show, he replied, "The average person does not audition for a reality show, so it is hard to answer the question as given. But being on TV gives people a sense of being desired, a sense of being known and a sense of being powerful."

Never mind that most people are scrutinized, judged and criticized at home, school and work for the duration of their lives: The only thing that supersedes the desire for money in this culture is the desire for fame. Reality shows are an adolescent society's dream. Like cheerleading tryouts for a squad that consists of only you, glorious you, shows like "Survivor" give people a chance to be famous for just being their dull, unattractive, inarticulate, unremarkable selves. In this newest sub-brand of fame, it's only after convincing millions of people that you have little to offer that your life suddenly takes on extraordinary significance.

On "The Early Show" last week, Gray told viewers of how many "good things had happened to [her] since she left the show." She's writing a book and a column for Entertainment Weekly, as well as taking advantage of other, as Gumbel put it, "commercial opportunities."

Kauffman: "Because now you're out doing ..."

Gray: "I'm taking advantage -- right. Right. Yeah."

Gumbel: "Supply and demand."

Four months before the "Survivor II" auditions, I attended "Wanna Be a VJ3" in San Francisco, part of a three-city search for MTV's new video presenter. A thousand brave hipsters stood in line in the cold for the chance to tape an audition. When asked why, most said that being a VJ was "the best job in the world," yet it was clear they weren't there for the employment opportunity. Like those who believe photographers have the power to steal souls, we seem convinced that media exposure can hand out souls like door prizes -- providing us with instant substance, position and recognition.

And to some degree, it's true. The media has been making minor deities out of chefs, hairstylists, personal trainers, plastic surgeons, dentists, astrologers and little kids trapped in wells for decades now.

When life disappoints, reality shows can offer a quick fix. "Part of the appeal is the relative ease with which everything could change," says Mark Goulston, M.D., an expert on contemporary culture at Lifescape.com and the author of "Get Out of Your Own Way: Overcoming Self-Defeating Behavior." "There's almost a lottery quality to these shows. There's a jackpot mentality. You get to be famous without having earned it."

"I think the quest for fame is most of all a form of power seeking," says George Mason's Cowen. "It is one of the strongest desires that human beings possess. Even those who eschew fame (e.g., Salinger, Pynchon) often revel in their scorn of the public, thereby seeking a greater fame of sorts. Most of all we want other human beings to acknowledge that we exist. We passionately pursue projects toward this end, often more so than for money -- money often being only a 'counter' in the recognition game. Television has vastly expanded the reach of fame and created irresistible opportunities for people to project their images and personae to many, many others," Cowen continues. "We are biologically programmed to seek the approbation of others. Being on a TV show is not the same as approbation, but it is a form of attention, often the next best thing."

Next Page: Descending from fame into obscurity is "kind of like losing your virginity,"

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