Pirate Master
CBS
Thursdays, 8pm ET

Before reality television producer Mark Burnett's new summer series Pirate Master debuted last month, critics fretted that it would be nothing more than a pirate-themed clone of Burnett's long-running hit Survivor. If you already dislike reality TV in general, or Survivor in particular, Pirate Master is certainly not going to change your mind about the genre.

But is the new series, which runs in Survivor's 8pm Thursday slot on CBS, essentially just Survivor: Pirates? Most definitely, right down to the graphics, the editing rhythm, and even the "native" music introducing each segment. In fact, Burnett goes out of his way to remind viewers of Survivor. The real question is whether or not this is actually such a bad thing.

If originality were high on the list of viewer demands, then the most popular series in the world right now would probably not be CSI: Miami. (The entire creative pitch for that show: "Make it like the other one, but in Miami. And the main guy should be squintier.") While Survivor has long since passed along the ratings juggernaut crown to American Idol, it's still an incredibly successful show that regularly outperforms other, more "buzzworthy" series. And as anyone who watched the Pearl Island season should know, Burnett loves pirates. Lots of other people do, too. So why not slap a buccaneerish veneer on an established hit show and call it Pirate Master?

In case the intended similarities to Survivor aren't sufficiently clear, the first segment of the first episode of Pirate Master introduces cast member Louie the Fishing Dock Operator. Louie bears an unnerving physical resemblance to the (rather inexplicably) beloved "Pirate King" Rupert Boneham (Pearl Islands and All Stars). The only visible difference between the two is that the layers of Louie's mullet appear to be a bit more sharply delineated than the layers of Rupert's mullet. Within seconds of his onscreen appearance, internet discussion forums erupt in heated debate as to whether Louie should be referred to henceforth as "Rupert 2.0," "Fauxpert," or "Newpert."

Pirate Master is hosted by Cameron Daddo, an Australian Jeff Probst/Phil Keoghan mash-up who somehow manages to be less than the sum of his parts. The bulk of Daddo's job is to introduce the premise of each episode in the form of a story about an obviously fictional pirate captain named Henry Steel. Apparently Cap'n Steel's extreme paranoia and severe obsessive-compulsive disorder (my diagnoses) caused him to divide his treasure into fourteen parts, hide each part in a different place on the island of Dominica, and lock all of the maps and keys necessary to retrieve the different parts of the treasure into the fifteen separate locked compartments of a chest that will accompany the players on the ship. (To give Daddo some credit, if he can deliver the line "Behold the Chest of Zanzibar!" with a straight face, he just might make it through the season.) All of this will somehow eventually determine the winner of the game.

Contestants live on a working replica of a pirate ship which they are expected to sail and maintain. They are randomly divided into groups and dropped on shore for challenges in which they search for real gold coins. Each week someone is voted off in pirate court, which in the debut episode culminates (in the loosest sense of the word) with a low-ammunition battle of wits between Joe Don, the Alaskan firefighter who was elected ship's captain, and John, who according to the on-screen graphic is a "scientist/exotic dancer." While John might be considered good-looking, particularly if one's tastes run toward the variety of handsome featured on romance novel covers, he exhibits none of the other social or intellectual skills required for either of his designated professions. Although he is in possession of both of the group's compasses, no one is surprised when John is unanimously voted off the ship and literally cut adrift on a raft.

By consciously establishing Survivor as the blueprint for Pirate Master, Burnett is better able to draw the viewer's attention to the significance of the little differences between the two shows. While there are several changes in game structure that affect the social dynamics and player strategy of the game, the Henry Steel narrative set-up is the tip-off to the most significant distinction between Pirate Master and Survivor. The latter show always makes an effort to base itself on (admittedly oversimplified) authentic cultural and historical facts. Pirate Master, on the other hand, is unashamedly based on a huge, gleefully fabricated lie. This show isn't about morals or ethics or personal growth or alliances; unlike Survivor, it doesn't even try to present itself as a character-building opportunity. For better or worse, it's simply the biggest-budget live-action roleplaying game ever.

So far, the weakest part of Pirate Master is the cast. Reality shows are often criticized for casting wannabe actors and models rather than "real" people. In this case, the show might have benefited from a few more cast members with some stagecraft at their disposal. While these people may be very good at pretending to be pirates, most of them are not very good at acting like pirates. For example, as if it weren't enough that Azmyth sports both blond dredlocks and intricately sculptured facial hair, he also insists upon speaking in an accent that can most charitably be described as "British-ish." (Azmyth, by the way, is from Mt. Vernon, Washington.) These types of affectations amongst the players serve to project a middle school drama class vibe that contrasts oddly with the campy but meticulous care — think caged skeletons and live snakes and maggots — lavished on the art direction and game set-up.

During the debut episode of Pirate Master, CBS ran a promotional spot proclaiming the July 5 premiere of Big Brother 8 to be "the most anticipated" series of the summer. The sad but undeniable accuracy of this assertion speaks volumes about the quality of network summer programming. In the meantime, while Pirate Master may not be based on the most original of premises, it's at least fresh enough to fend off summer scurvy.

— A.D. Lively (calypsobhc@hotmail.com)