Casting chaos
All contestants are issued lengthy contracts before entering Celebrity Treasure Island, but that’s about the only common thread in the casting and pre-show experience.
Over the years (this is my fourth Celebrity Treasure Island trip), some contestants have confessed they had just days’ notice of their involvement, while others have had weeks or months to prepare.
Some talent approach production directly wanting to join the cast, some via their agent, some get an out-of-the-blue call, while others are phoned by a pal in production begging for a favour after a late drop-out.
After years of trying to crack the casting formula, I’ve accepted there is simply no method to the madness. The only guarantee is there will always be a vintage rugby or league player, at least two comedians, two people I have to Google, but never, and I mean never, Shortland Street‘s Michael Galvin.
Frank Bunce ticks the retired rugby player box for 2026. Photo / TVNZ, Matt Klitscher
No meet-cute
You might believe teammates happen upon each other for the first time on day one of filming, decked out in colour‑coordinated gear while gushing to the camera about how they can’t believe they’re teamed with their childhood hero. In reality, they can believe it – they’ve just spent the past two days together, and already planned who to deceive first while trading itchy-bite remedies.
While rival teams never meet beforehand (and their identities are genuinely kept secret), teammates usually stay in the same hotel, eat dinners, shoot promo content, do media interviews with the Herald and stick to tightly managed schedules together.
So while there’s no magical meet‑cute on the beach, before the cameras roll, Frank Bunce might be tossing around a rugby ball, Suzanne Paul could start a singalong, or Tāme Iti might nap on a rock beside you, which is far more magic.
Peter “Gunner” Ashford. Photo / TVNZ
There’s a man named Gunner in the shed
Despite the bevvy of on‑screen talent, the people behind the cameras are the glue that holds CTI together.
A team of more than 80 handle everything from casting and talent negotiations to publicity, set and challenge builds, medical care, sound, camera operations, location management and directing.
Executive director Craig Burton, aka Burto, started on the show as a soundy. He’s the production team’s fearless leader and is meticulous about every shot being right, but never over‑polished. Burto is hellbent on keeping the reality in reality TV, and rocks a utility vest with the very best of them.
And then there’s the soul of the show: Location manager Peter Ashford, known to cast and crew as Gunner. Each season, he stays on site, and a single radio call to him can solve almost anything.
At night, his digs range from a tent to a rusty shed tucked in the corner of a bogged paddock. Nothing fazes him. Gunner would be my first-round pick for a pal to survive the apocalypse with.
Louis Davis, Liv Parker and Harrison Keefe were three out of seven of the salt smugglers. Photo / Jenni Mortimer
Contraband is contra-bad
Every season you hear the cast complaining about eating rice and beans and nothing else – so is that really it, or do they secretly have a bag of One Square Meals stashed in their rucksacks?
Turns out, the show takes contraband seriously. Like, really seriously. Anything that adds flavour or protein to those rice and beans is confiscated.
This year, with permission, I tested the celebs. Given the show had not yet started and they were still in hotels, with access to salt, coffee, sugar and more, I wanted to know how they might play the game they weren’t yet in.
With a warning that what I was offering was definitely contraband and would definitely be taken off them if they did try and take it into camp, I asked a simple question: Would you accept a tiny salt sachet I sourced from the show’s sponsor, McDonald’s?
You’d think the crew might applaud my flawless brand integration and my efforts to test contestants’ morality, but after a rigorous bag search by production, the salt was seized from anyone who confessed or was caught with it.
The results? Seven out of the 17 contestants I offered it to had wanted to take a little something salty with them, if they could: Ria Vandervis, Sammi Poole, Harrison Keefe, Louis Davis, Liv Parker, Georgia Lines, Te Ao o Hinepehinga.
What nobody noticed was that while attention was fixed on my few grains of salt, contraband was being buried, shoes were destroyed and rebuilt to hide items in the soles, and one contestant even told me they planned to stash a vape somewhere truly unthinkable.
Filming is paused so teams can have challenges explained to them prior to action being called. Photo / Jenni Mortimer
Challenge the challenges
Each season, I’m invited to watch the first challenges (after signing a non-disclosure agreement that lasts until the show starts and emptying my pockets of salt).
And what viewers don’t see is what happens before the teams go at it.
Once the tricky challenge is announced, contestants are given time to ask questions and make sure they fully understand the rules. Only when everyone is confident do they call action.
So when your fave celeb mucks it up, it’s not because they didn’t understand the rules; they might just be suffering from salt withdrawals.
Wardrobe woes
Minus the promo shoots, celebs pack their entire wardrobe themselves – there’s no team styling those often‑iconic looks.
Once cast, you’re assigned a team colour and sent to raid your local Cotton On for everything available in that hideous hue. Pack badly – say, two pairs of jeans and no PJs for a 21‑day outdoor adventure – and that’s on you. No one’s couriering you a pair of trackies.
Get swapped to the other team? You’re not just furious, you’re also borrowing their week-old, filthy graphic tee.
By merge, you’ve got a wardrobe of clashing colours and a ragtag group of badly dressed misfits, wildly unfit for adventure. It’s a thing of beauty, every single season.
Celebrity Treasure Island premieres on Monday, April 27 at 7.30pm on TVNZ 2 & TVNZ+
Jenni Mortimer is the NZ Herald’s chief lifestyle and entertainment reporter. Jenni started at the Herald in 2017 and has previously worked as lifestyle, entertainment and travel editor.