Episode 1: RC...A Love Story

 

                                              Episode 1: RC…A Love Story

     “It’s not a cookie. It’s a Fig Newton.” Such a dated tagline still has relevance today because it builds upon the foundation of perception. Perception isn’t included in Survivor’s vaulted “Outwit, Outplay, Outlast” moniker (that acted as Survivor’s longstanding mantra until the Immunity Idol created a brand new slogan: “Find the Idol. Use the Idol. Find the Idol again.”), but it might be the most important aspect of the game. Perception tells me that the Tandang tribe is an igneous time bomb full of friction and ripe with villainy and staggering conceit. One pundit would argue that the Matsing tribe is just so woeful that it allows Tandang to coast in challenges, but that’s not true, as Tandang has taken first place on a couple of occasions. And that brings me to explain the force that’s holding Tandang together. Said force that I alluded to is none other than the Renaissance Girl herself: RC Saint-Armour. She’s a banker of New York origin with a name that’s as fun to say as it is to type.

 

      Now, basketball superstars are best defined as “two-way” players who excel at offense and defense. Baseball has “five-toll” players who demonstrate great abilities to hit, run and field. Using such an analogy, RC has more tools than a freakin’ Home Depot. She dominates challenges when given the opportunity; always plays with a smart, rationalistic approach; and is charming and cunning enough to pull off the ultimate victory. In other words, she provides stability and a solution to a situation otherwise filled with conflagration and catastrophe. She does this with a smile that would warm Scrooge’s heart enough that he’d shill out schillings to ever beggar in town (did I mention that she’s pretty pretty?). But alas, it appears that some unfortunate cartoon out there has misplaced a couple of it’s Looney Tunes.

 

     In potentially the greatest exhibition between human and artistic-sprite since Space Jam (and much earlier with Who Framed Roger Rabbit?), RC’s world is an exercise in the surreal. Imagine it to be like that fantastical scene in 500 Days of Summer when Joseph Gordon-Levitt first has sex with Zooey Deschenel and he embarks on a parade-like course through the city filled with frills and heavenly haughtiness. But what if he had been rejected and the two never consummated? Instead of seeing Harrison Ford in the windshield, he sees Johnny Fairplay. The jaunty Hall & Oates song is replaced with Wanda Shirk’s shrieking “musical” ode to Survivor, and the little cartoon bird so eager to indulge in his joy would hereby take a shit atop his head. According to the Survivor edit, it’s as if RC woke up one day and suddenly, everything she knew was wrong. She becomes Dorothy once her world stops spinning. Her perfect alliance had more tears than a scarecrow hemorrhaging straw. In a flash, our perceptions about her team changed drastically…

 

     Proving that the costume truly does make the clown, Abi’s flabbergasting flab morphs into the Dreadful Drizella to RC’s Cinderella. Peppered with paranoia, her conversations with RC become accusatory…proving to all that she truly is more “ass” than “class”. The personification of a Crash Test Dummy, Mike’s injuries become seemingly more severe and the blood loss accumulation starts to make one wonder if this show was being orchestrated by Burnett or Jigsaw. Lisa contorts herself from the innocuous introvert into a strategically sound player. Pete, like a super villain with a penchant for persnickety pestilence, becomes an opportunistic puppet-master playing both sides as if he’s Snoopy and “the game” has become his table-tennis board. And Artis showed that his vocal chords could scientifically produce sounds when exercised. RC’s befuddled expression as the Brazilian Villain rips into her in the second episode represents what was going on in her head and the viewers. One is simply waiting for the grand piano to fall from the sky or the “bang” sign to pop out of a fired gun.

 

      And with a boost of bravado, RC still managed to shine like that stubborn, flickering bug light that can’t be dimmed (I admit, not the most attractive comparison…sorry I’ll try again). Like a robust, resplendent candle that cannot be snuffed no matter how many futile attempts to abhor it‘s illuminated glow, RC continued to deliver when it mattered the most. She put together a puzzle whilst Pete took a mulligan, and she swam to the very depths of the abyss when the rest of her team was too winded. Amidst all the strife and discord, she stood out like a marble in a bag of pearls. And the next day, she finds herself in the parallel universe again. The people she assumed to be human beings transcended themselves back into cartoon caricatures, and RC’s “oh, f-me” look tells a narrative without nary a word be spoken.

 

     So is she playing Survivor or Tron? Is Jeff Probst giving her instructions on an Immunity Challenge or offering her a couple pills and telling her that one will make her wake up and the other brings her into the Matrix? (Probst with shades and leather coat would be pretty badass, agree?) How can her tribe seem so ready to fall at the heels of fail one minute and pull off numerous victories the next? The answer, as always, comes with RC’s vivacious awesomeness…obviously. Her tribe is presented with internal struggle, and one can’t help but think of other Survivors facing strife in the face as habitually as RC.

 

     Stephenie was the heart of Ulong, but even her great will couldn’t garner victories. That wascally, wittle waterbug named Rob Cesternino sprinkled pixie dust in true trickster fashion for the brunt of Amazon to turn the targets off himself…but he couldn’t quite con his way to the finale. Parvati partook the crown jewels of several men in her quest to the top, but she could never charm the “pens” (see what I did there) of the males when it came time to write her name over Sandra’s. Eliza was as crafty as Eve’s serpentine suitor, but she had a habit of aligning herself with players lacking gumption (Jason “little Ozzie” Siska comes to mind).

 

     The list continues, and where many have faltered, RC continues to shine. With such a lineage of cookies, RC stands out as the Fig Newton of the class. She spits in the face of adversary. Her game is an intricate amalgam of players who have played before her; a pulverizing pastiche of combining other’s strengths and weeding out their weaknesses simultaneously. She keeps a cool head like a dedicated AC (J ). She competes with a warrior’s will, and represents a vignette of virtuous patience. I’ve long thought of Survivor as an overarching allegory whereas each season builds off of the other in a way that breeds predictability and ennui to cultivate, but then I witness a player like RC…who blows old theories to shreds and forces odds makers to scramble in an effort to cover their asses. I rarely gamble, but I’d bet a bunch of boullion on RC’s chances. And remember: You can’t spell “Renaissance Girl” without “R” & “C”! :D

　

 

                                                       

                                                       Lionel the Llama’s Spit Award:

 

Abi-Marie. Talking trash with RC is criminal enough, but outright ignoring her is punishable by multiple llama spit shots. This girl is as fruity as a bowl of skittles. Be advised though; this is one rainbow you don’t want to taste.