castaway

‘Survivor 50’: How the competition show keeps its torch burning

Within the first 72 hours of a 26-day game, “Survivor 50,” featuring 24 veteran players, had already delivered feuding, anguish and heartbreak. Legendary rivals Ozzy Lusth and Benjamin “Coach” Wade appeared to bury the hatchet, only for their conflict to reignite soon after. Kyle Fraser was forced out due to injury, and Jenna Lewis-Dougherty, who competed in both the show’s inaugural season and “All-Stars,” was the first person voted out after more than two decades away from the game.

Yet there were also moments of nostalgia, connection and excitement as returning players arrived on the beach, grateful to be part of the show’s landmark 50th season.

This raw display of humanity has kept the show’s torch burning for over 25 years. “‘Survivor’ is built on a timeless idea because human nature doesn’t change,” says Jeff Probst, the host, executive producer and showrunner of the reality competition series. “It’s essentially behavioral psychology in the wild.”

Back in Fiji’s Mamanuca Islands for “Survivor 50: In the Hands of Fans,” the show has added a novel element. Fans were given a say in key decisions, voting online to shape production and game mechanics, from choosing tribe colors to requiring castaways to earn rice and supplies instead of receiving them at the start.

“What a great twist,” says Wade in an interview over Zoom. “‘In the Hands of Fans’ transforms the game. Instead of it being, ‘They are playing,’ it’s ‘We are playing.’”

Though he was disappointed to be deprived of staples upon his arrival, he smiles and says that if he were watching at home rather than competing, he also would have wanted players to start with nothing.

A man in a ball cap and black T-shirt smiles as he holds a black guitar.
A man in a ball cap and black T-shirt grilling on a barbecue pit.

Singer-songwriter and “Survivor” superfan Zac Brown coooked and performed for contestants on the show. (Robert Voets/CBS)

“Survivor” has also leaned into its famous fan base this season, bringing in self-proclaimed superfans, including Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Zac Brown — who appeared in Episode 4 as a reward for a winning tribe for whom he spearfishes, cooks and performs. The show also nods to Billie Eilish via the Billie Eilish Boomerang Idol featured in the season premiere. The game piece was handpicked by the Oscar- and Grammy-winning pop star — whose 2022 song “TV” references “Survivor” — and accompanied by a letter in which she outlined its instructions.

But Mike White, creator of “The White Lotus,” represents the show’s most intertwined cultural crossover. He drew inspiration for his hit HBO series from “Survivor” and cast several former tribemates in cameos. “Survivor 50” also features “The White Lotus” Easter eggs.

Returning to the franchise for the first time since he finished as runner-up in 2018, in the Season 50 premiere he says, tearfully, “There are times in ‘White Lotus’ where I’m so fried … it’s a 129-day shoot, but I look back on my ‘Survivor’ experience, and I’m like, ‘Dude, I did that and I can do this.’” Yet White’s hard-won resilience couldn’t protect him from being voted out in a blindside in Episode 4, proving that fame offers no immunity.

And that is the point. At its core, “Survivor” is about watching people from all walks of life dropped into a remote, unforgiving landscape where they must outwit, outplay and outlast one another for a $1 million prize — hungry, exhausted and sore, roasting in the blazing sun or shivering through rainstorms, and enduring grueling physical competitions. They must cooperate with the very people they’re competing against. And as alliances form and fracture, each day grows more fraught.

Two men sit on a sandy beach.

Former “Survivor” contestants Mike White, left, and Quintavius “Q” Burdette in Season 50.

(Robert Voets/CBS)

“It’s very simple but very deep,” Probst says. “The goal is not to get voted out, but the strategy in achieving that goal is infinite, so the game’s easy to understand, but it’s impossible to master. That’s why it’s so much fun to watch. You’re constantly asking yourself, ‘What would I do?’”

It’s one thing to ask from the comfort of home, but another to live it out, and on national television to boot, says Wade. Coach “When you step on that beach, the stakes are so much higher,” he explains. “Nobody really thinks about the million dollars. They’re thinking about surviving, not getting voted off.”

“Most people would be able to do it,” he continues. “But what you’d realize is what happens to your character and your facade when you’re deprived of everything — food, comfort, reaching out to your friends and having a support system that you know and trust. When you strip all of that away, this stops being a game, and your character will be forged, revealed or shattered.”

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A four-time player, Season 23 runner-up and 2015 Survivor Hall of Fame inductee, Coach is one of the show’s most legendary figures. Known as the Dragon Slayer, he’s often shown meditating, praying, waxing philosophical, and pontificating on nobility, integrity and honor. His grandiose persona rubbed many the wrong way early on, earning him a villain label.

Reflecting on his legacy, Wade partly blames the edit but acknowledges he often took himself too seriously, was arrogant, and tried too hard to be larger than life, yet he stresses his authenticity. “The way I look, dress and talk — I’m polarizing,” he says. “That’s who I am in my real life, so that’s who I am out there.”

Probst affirms that what you see is what you get. “Coach shows up authentically every day,” he says. “He wears his mythology on his sleeve and has it tattooed on his body. When he pulls back his hair into a ponytail and quotes Magellan, that’s Coach: ‘I’m the guy with quotes about war and victory and fearlessness and courage. That’s actually who I am.’”

This season, Wade calls himself “Coach 4.0,” but Probst remains skeptical. “Every time he plays, Coach refers to himself as the new version of Coach,” Probst says. “But the minute he starts talking, everybody thinks the same thing: ‘Coach, you may have some more maturity and life experiences now that you’re married and have kids, but you’re exactly the same.’”

That’s not a critique of Coach. After observing more than 750 players over 25 years, Probst believes, “We are capable of much more than we think we are, and simultaneously, at our core, we generally are who we are. It doesn’t mean you can’t change or become a better version of yourself, but you’re going to have some core instincts.”

A man with shoulder length greying hair in black T-shirt stand in front of a counter.

Benjamin “Coach” Wade in “Survivor 50.” (Robert Voets/CBS)

A shirtless man holding an object by a wooden table as a group of people sit behind him and watch.

Coach in 2011’s “Survivor: South Pacific,” the show’s 23rd season. (Monty Brinton/CBS)

The show’s unflinching exploration of human nature traces back to visionary British television producer Charlie Parsons. He conceived the social experiment based on a combination of his curiosity about people, the influence of “Lord of the Flies” and “Robinson Crusoe,” and his boarding school experience.

“It was an all-boys school and quite a competitive place, so there was an element of survival in that,” Parsons says over Zoom. “It wasn’t a bad experience, but if you’re 13 and you’ve never lived away from home before, it can be quite a wrench to live for a month at a time away from your parents. On one occasion I called my parents and said, ‘Will you rescue me?’ And they didn’t.”

In 1988, Parsons turned his concept into “The Castaways,” a three-part documentary for a magazine-style television program he was showrunning.

Several years later, he was approached by Disney’s Buena Vista Productions to make an American version of a successful British morning show he created. When that didn’t pan out, he pitched what would eventually become “Survivor,” developing it with Buena Vista in hopes of selling it to ABC.

But, he says, the radical concept didn’t fit neatly into existing TV genres, and the network balked. “It’s difficult to imagine, but back in the ‘90s this idea of reality TV basically didn’t exist,” Parsons says. “Television was reasonably siloed … ABC took a long time deciding because they could see that there was something about it, but in the end they passed.”

In 1997, however, the concept found immediate success in Sweden with “Expedition Robinson,” leading to expansion in more Scandinavian countries.

The leap to America required a new alliance. During Parsons’ development process with Buena Vista, he’d met fellow British TV producer Mark Burnett at a party in Los Angeles where he’d told him about the reality competition format he was building. Burnett then called every six months pressing to produce it until Parsons finally agreed to grant him the American licensing rights.

“Mark had an incredible energy and presence, which meant that he could go and sell the s— out of it,” Parsons says. “He could persuade the networks to take a risk on something risky.”

Even so, as Burnett relayed in a comprehensive 2010 Television Academy interview, he faced a difficult pitching process. But after every major network passed, he re-approached CBS, where then-CEO and President Les Moonves was game to try original programming during summertime when reruns caused dwindling viewership. But when Moonves commissioned a pilot, Burnett said a stand-alone episode was too costly and couldn’t capture the show’s slow-burn endgame.

Instead, he proposed a sponsorship model built on integrating products into the game, pitching the value of a castaway using a branded cellphone to call home, or the desperation for a slice of pizza and a beer. After Burnett secured corporate sponsors, Moonves greenlighted “Survivor.”

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Though firmly embedded in the culture today, “Survivor” was revolutionary when it debuted May 31, 2000, quickly becoming a cultural phenomenon. The Season 1 finale averaged 51.7 million viewers, surpassing both the Academy Awards and Grammys that year. Time magazine featured Lewis-Dougherty on its late June 2000 cover, and “The Late Show With David Letterman” featured a “Survivor”-themed Top 10 list presented by the show’s 16 castaways.

From its exotic location to the now-iconic buffs, “Survivor” established a world all its own, complete with a unique lexicon of immunity challenges, tribal council and Probst’s signature catchphrase, “The tribe has spoken.” As the enduring face of the show, Probst is central to its legacy, earning four Emmys for his role as host.

But even Probst’s survival wasn’t guaranteed. About 15 years ago, the relentless travel and schedule left him so depleted that he briefly quit the show. A few months of rest, however, allowed him to reevaluate. “It really was, ‘I don’t know if I have anything left in my tank to bring to the game.’ That might be what partly influenced Mark to make me showrunner even faster,” Probst says. “I needed to be more of a storyteller on this show.”

A group of people both sitting and standing on a rocky beach with several boats floating behind them.

The cast of “Survivor” Season 1, standing from left: Ramona Gray, Dirk Been, Gretchen Cordy, Richard Hatch, Sonja Christopher, Susan Hawk, Kelly Wiglesworth, Sean Kenniff, B.B. Andersen and Rudy Boesch. Seated from left: Gervase Peterson, Jenna Lewis, Joel Klug, Stacey Stillman, Greg Buis and Colleen Haskell.

(Monty Brinton/CBS)

He’s quick to note the show’s collaborative ethos, however. “The term ‘showrunner’ is pretty misleading at this point. We make this as a team,” Probst says. Under his stewardship, “Survivor” is more cinematic, reimagined through the lens of Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero’s Journey,” and family friendly. Probst also notes the necessity of continually evolving game design, creating unexpected twists and advantages to keep players on edge and never knowing whom to trust.

The pandemic brought changes as well. With production shut down amid a world in turmoil, Probst felt “Survivor” needed more levity. When filming resumed, due to the 14-day quarantine requirement, back-to-back seasons were shot and the format was shortened from 39 days to 26. The faster-paced “New Era” that began with Season 41 also coincided with CBS’s 2020 diversity mandate requiring at least 50% of the cast to be nonwhite, and Probst dropped his longtime catchphrase “Come on in, guys” in favor of more inclusive language.

By Season 45, in keeping with Probst’s narrative-driven vision, the previously hourlong episodes expanded to 90 minutes.

Television habits have also changed since viewers once dissected tribal council proceedings at the office the next morning. Streaming breathed new life into “Survivor,” with younger viewers discovering it during the pandemic, while its cross-generational appeal keeps it a broadcast powerhouse. The Season 50 premiere drew 9.1 million viewers across live broadcast and delayed streaming, and in the weeks leading up to the launch, viewers revisited older seasons, boosting streaming numbers ahead of the anniversary.

According to Mitch Graham, CBS executive vice president of alternative programming, “Survivor” ranks No. 1 in the coveted 18 to 49 demographic, and the Season 50 launch generated the biggest social media engagement in the franchise’s history.

Even as the reality TV landscape has grown crowded, Probst remains unfazed. “It’s a show like no other,” he says. “It’s adventure, survival, strategy, interpersonal relationships, social politics. … This multi-layered storytelling gives it durability because any given week you have no idea what you’re going to watch.”

Meanwhile, as Season 50 continues to unfold, no one knows who will be crowned “Sole Survivor” on May 20 in Los Angeles, the show’s first live finale since 2019. But rest assured, by then they’ll have revealed exactly who they are.

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‘I have the island to myself’: how to be a castaway in Cornwall | Cornwall holidays

It is just after dawn and from a viewpoint on Looe Island, Cornwall, I watch two seals on the beach below. The pair entwine in the surf, her freckled, creamy belly against his, flippers wrapped around each other, eyes closed in blissful bonding. I feel like a peeping Tom, watching from behind a bush. It feels too intimate a moment to be spying upon, but the emerald-eyed cormorants guarding the beach seem unbothered.

I had arrived on Looe Island, also known as St George’s Island, off the south coast of Cornwall, the previous morning via the romantically named Night Riviera sleeper train from London, changing early in the morning in Liskeard, then 15 minutes across the waves in a small fishing boat. The island is managed by the Cornwall Wildlife Trust and can only be accessed on organised visits, and while most people come on day trips, I’m staying for a little longer. I have come loaded down with all the food and bedding I will need for my three-night visit, but also with the mental baggage of workaday life. Now, that weight lifts as I watch the male seal court his lady in the shallows.

Rain threatens, and I return to Smuggler’s Cottage, a pretty whitewashed house that sleeps two, tucked into a garden of fruit trees and fading flower heads. The cottage, with a bedroom, tiny kitchen, bathroom and cosy living room with a wood burner, is a homely place and was once lived in by a pipe-smoking, fist-fighting smuggler called Black Joan and her brother, Finn. The rain drips steadily from the sycamore trees clambering up the hillside and clings like frost to the spiders’ webs hanging from the windowsills. I snuggle back into bed with a cup of tea and feel the warmth that comes from a wildlife encounter in which the wildlife never knew you were there.

Undoubtedly it was to preserve moments such as these that the former owner of Looe Island, Roselyn “Babs” Atkins, left her home to the Cornwall Wildlife Trust as a nature reserve. Babs and her sister, Evelyn “Attie” Atkins, were women who defied the conventions of their time. The pair never married and instead invested in their careers and took up hobbies such as mountaineering and rifle shooting. Then, when Attie was in her mid-50s, the chance came to realise a long-held dream to own an island. She bought Looe Island along with her sister in 1965 for £22,000 and became a daffodil farmer; Babs joined her later when she retired.

Smuggler’s Cottage, a cosy holiday home for two on Looe Island

Cornwall Wildlife Trust took over the island in 2004, after Babs’s death, and the charity manages the 9 hectares (22 acres) of woodland, maritime grassland and rocky shoreline for the benefit of wildlife, including one of Cornwall’s largest breeding colonies of great black-backed gulls (stately birds with a wingspan of over 1.5 metres) and marine wildlife such as the graceful compass jellyfish, which can be spotted in the rock pools.

Apart from the cottage, visitors can stay in a bell tent, which sleeps two, overlooking Trelawny Island to the south-east, where breakers crash on the rocks and seals sleep, nose skywards, kissing the surf. Additional revenue comes from the landing fee charged to day trippers, who come across with Looe Sea Safari a few times a day when the weather allows. There is also a diminutive museum and giftshop, where wardens Claire and Jon, who live on the island year-round, sell homemade chutney, chillies from their veg garden and charming books on island life written by Evelyn Atkins.

Today, the seas are too rough for day trippers and I have the island to myself. I read in a meadow, something I never find the time to do at home, and explore the winding pathways that climb steeply up to the summit, 47 metres above the sea.

There’s a self-guided trail (free from the bookshop) for further exploration. One of the stops is Babs’s meadow, where she is buried looking out over her beloved home. The whole route could easily be walked in an hour, but why rush? The trail winds past Island House, Roselyn and Evelyn’s old home, and follows the coastline, with views out over the reefs that fringe the island, before returning through woodland bright with bird calls.

In the afternoon, I head for a swim on the island’s main beach, where the black-backed gulls roost in between fishing trips. I try hard to follow Claire’s instructions, staying close to the tree line and not looking in the birds’ direction to avoid disturbing them, and am delighted when the colony largely ignores me. The sea is icy and the surf threatens to pummel me, but I spot silver striped mackerel swimming inches away and relish the thrill of taking a dip from a little-visited cove. Afterwards, dried and bundled in layers, I sit propped up between the boulders, hands warming around a cup of hot chocolate from my Thermos as I catch the last light of the dying sun. I gaze across the water, my mind clearer than it has been in weeks, as the gulls take off into the wind and sail past along the coast.

Aerial view of Looe estuary. Photograph: Wirestock/Getty Images

When I watch the two seals again later that evening with Claire and Jon, she explains that they hope to encourage visitors to respect coastal wildlife and minimise disturbance. “When the seals are resting,” she says, “they are laying down layers of fat from their meals, which helps the adults survive the winter and enriches the milk females give to their pups. Each time they are woken by a boat, even if it’s only for a few minutes, they use up a little bit of energy and the effect accumulates.”

For each seal, disturbance can be the difference between life and death, she says, but agrees that protection needs to be balanced against the need for people to engage with wildlife in order to increase empathy and support. Staying on – or visiting – a nature reserve is one way that people can get to know the wildlife on its terms. “The island forces them to slow down, to notice the small things,” Jon says. “People put their phones away and spend the afternoon watching a spider building its web.”

After only a day watching the seals, I can already feel that kinship. After all, these animals look so much like us that they were once mistaken for mermaids. It is these priceless moments of connection that Claire and Jon hope will stay with guests and teach them to be humble in the way they live alongside other creatures.

I have come to realise, as Babs and Attie did before me, that it is the lordly gulls and the amorous seals who are the real owners of the island. Still, I am grateful for the opportunity to share their home, if only for a few days, and for the sense of peace and reconnection with the wilder world it has allowed me.

The trip was provided by the Cornwall Wildlife Trust. Smuggler’s Cottage is available to rent from spring until October and costs £450 for a three-night stay for two. Looe Sea Safari runs day trips either side of high tide in daylight hours and fair weather, £12 adults, £7 children 10 and under, plus Cornwall Wildlife Trust’s landing fee of £8 adults, £3 children.

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