Vens Critique - Week of May 1 to 5, 2000

ATWT this week mostly resembled a live-action cartoon -- a hodge-podge of cops and pre-teen robbers, of gum chewing, bawdy showgirls, of skin, sparkles, and feather dancing, of drinking champagne and jumping on couches in expensive hotel suites. The show bounced from Oakdale to Atlantic City to New York and yet, for all that movement, it felt like ATWT had no mapped out direction. One woman looked into the face of another and saw her twin, while her husband looked into the face of a young blond and didn't see, or, to be generous, chose to ignore her obvious attraction to him. Another man sat in stony silence agonizing over the fate of a boy who jumped into a lake out of fear, while his former lover stoically wrapped his shivering body in a blanket and offered comfort. A med student and her semi-shady, sorta-kinda boyfriend had a ludicrous argument over prison versus death, scene after pointless scene that felt like it was written to fill up time in the episode. (However, I noted the irony in the writers having the possibility of a coma for a minor character after just bringing a major character out of one.) While Executive Producer Christopher Goutman and co-head writers Leah Laiman and Carolyn Culliton spun these stories and scenes encased in the guise of originality, most of it had a dull, way too familiar ring.

As Jack searched the lake for Curtis, I recalled Alec and Tom's almost-deadly water ballet of a few months ago. While Andy's family grieved – Andy's plane went down and his body was not found – I recalled Jake grieving over Vicky – her plane went down and her body was not found. Molly faking her amnesia is merely a variation of Lucinda's over-hyped and underwritten reentrance to Oakdale, faking her condition to fool the foolhardy and feckless. And yet I have to admit that I watch ATWT with a bizarre fascination. Or perhaps it is through the haze of stunned amazement that I view what my beloved soap has become. While the ATWT of the not-so-distant past was steeped in drama and realism and high emotion in the vein of Y&R or AMC, the ATWT of today more closely resembles Dynasty, that high camp nighttime soap of the 1980s that coasted and often soared on bad dialogue, laughable plotlines, and excess and flash over substance. On ATWT, casino openings, showgirl dance numbers, fashion shows, and big parties prop up Laiman and Culliton's paper-thin stories. Lots of distractions and high gloss entertainment attempt to hide plot holes and bad writing. Yet I believe TPTB truly believe that this show should (and ought to) be taken seriously. TPTB want the audience to have a dramatic and personal investment in the outcome of each story. And these stories that we are to take seriously and invest our emotions in – What are they?

Well, they're Lily, Simon, and the Showgirl. Holden, the moustache-twirling villainy of Henry, and 21-year old WOAK anchorwoman Katie. Andy's disappearance, and the stalled Ben and Denise relationship. Molly's post-coma "amnesia" and her recovery. And Camille/Isaac, Jack/Julia, Emily/Tom, and all the other couples who coast along with manufactured conflict, but without any real story. So where do we grasp for emotional substance in these stories? On Rose's flesh-toned, glitter-encrusted costume? On the fringe of the blanket enveloping Jack? Around the glass of water young Curtis was chugging down on Wednesday? I'm desperate to find something on ATWT to emotionally pull me in, to make me care about the outcome of a story, to make me gasp, or weep, or sit upright riveted by what is playing out before me. I'm grasping for a lifeline of substance and emotion, but all I'm getting is feathers and mascara and orange convict uniforms and empty champagne flutes.

I mostly watch ATWT with an eye-rolling "I wonder what's going to happen next," a mixture of disbelief and frustration at what unfolds during an episode. It now takes an effort for me to watch, a conscious decision to sit down and view an episode. The Laiman/Culliton approach to soap opera and storytelling is diametrically opposite to the kind of soap opera I most enjoy. And that, of course, is reflected in my critiques. I don't like a lot of repetition. I don't like isolation storytelling. I don't like one-dimensional characters. I don't like bad dialogue or cutesy banter. I don't like stories that feel like they're being made up on a day-to-day basis. Oh, for the days when I used to watch ATWT with an edge of the seat anticipation and excitement, the "I wonder what's going to happen next!" coming from my mouth because I was involved in the stories and characters. I used to have an emotional investment, not only in the characters, but also in most of the stories, whether it was comparing and contrasting the Jack/Carly and Jack/Julia relationships, or Camille's bout with breast cancer, or Emily's unapologetic and calculated plan for getting Tom into her bed and into her life. I miss that kind of emotional storyline connection. I'd love to take the search into Lily's past and her heritage seriously.

But it's difficult to do that when the scenes structuring the story hinge on the heroine not being smart enough to pick up the telephone and have hotel security remove an unwanted guest from her suite. It's difficult to take this story seriously when it features a dreadful scene like the one on Friday when Simon pretended to be a Hollywood talent scout and flirted his way backstage to the showgirls' dressing rooms. It's difficult to take this story seriously when the person Lily has traveled so far to meet (with a two-week set up) turns out to be a showgirl presented so stereotypically that the character would be more at home in the camp classic film "Showgirls" than on ATWT. Could not the obvious differences between Lily and Rose have been shown more subtly through the writing and character development than by the obvious gum snapping, heavy make-up, flashy clothes route Laiman and Culliton took? Are we to infer that all showgirls in Atlantic City or Las Vegas are bawdy broads, that some or most of them aren't bright, educated, and articulate women who enjoy dance and performing? When Lily looked at Rose and said (in an unintentionally hilarious moment), "You've got my face," I was tempted to yell at the TV screen, "How can you tell under all that Covergirl makeup she's wearing?" (Or should that be Cover-Showgirl makeup?) . How much better, how much more compelling this evolving story would be if Rose had been presented as a real, flesh-and-blood person whom Martha Byrne could have portrayed with subtle shifts in tone and action, instead of this live-action cartoon of attitude and pizzazz. Goutman and Laiman/Culliton should have had more faith in the talented Martha Byrne. Byrne is doing a fabulous job. But let's face it: Rose is a character slap-dashed together from every clich้ in the book. Subsequently, Byrne has little to bring to the role other than gum snapping and tons of attitude.

Further, this story would be a lot better if Simon had been mixed in from the beginning with the other characters of Oakdale, instead of isolated almost completely with Lily and Holden. No, I don't count being introduced to Lucinda or Iva as meeting that requirement. I mean real interaction and involvement in a way that would weave the character into the fabric of the show. Since we got a blast from the past on Thursday – David Stenbeck – that character serves as a great counter-comparison to Simon. Reid/David was introduced and immediately spread all over the Oakdale canvas. He interacted with just about everyone, and was the central character in an umbrella story. Compare that with Simon's introduction and with whom he has interacted. Simon is expendable, someone who has yet to make so much as one tiny ripple on Snyder Pond. It's not fair to Paul Leyden. Leyden is not bad as Simon, but the storyline and isolation handicap him. Simon is a one-dimensional stud who wants a diamond (I think). Rose is a stereotype. Subsequently, the wonderful Martha Byrne is forced to carry this entire storyline. Amazingly, she's doing it. This story may stink at times, but Martha Byrne has come out smelling (and now acting) like a Rose.

I bet this will shock many of you, but here goes: The ATWT of today under Goutman, Laiman and Culliton is better than the ATWT of three months ago under Goutman, Laiman and Culliton. I know: That's not saying a lot. The show is still very bad. But nonetheless, the improvements are there. You just have to look hard to see them. Yet the improvements, while needed and appreciated, can not compensate for the bigger problems this regime faces. It's like continually putting patches on a leaking innertube. This producing and writing team has tackled some problems and I'll tell you what they are later on and will also give them some praise. But first things first.

This producing and writing team still refuses to look at what really needs work: Multi-level stories and story development; character development; too much repetition; and a commitment to long arc story planning and storytelling. I'm not talking minor little fixes here! All of these elements are critical to outstanding storytelling. But with Goutman and Laiman/Culliton, it's still the same old engine chugging along, relying on the same old tried and true formulas: Short-term plotting; crisis of the day stories that resolve themselves in a day or a week; repetition and more repetition and then some more repetition; and no regard for character consistency or history. It's easy enough to give examples.

When Carly left Oakdale, aside from one or two tacked-on scenes, that story stopped cold. Why? Jack could have easily kept investigating Carly's disappearance, uncovering more clues to her Hong Kong connection and gradually setting up Maura West's return. (Even if West chose not to return, the story would still need to be resolved and explained. West's presence is not required to keep this story going.) But that story ended because it had never been plotted beyond Carly's disappearance. This make-it-up-as-you-go-along style of Laiman and Culliton is what infuriates me most as a viewer. It's kindergarten storytelling, requiring a minimum of effort and a minimum of creativity. It cuts off any chance of crossing stories, setting up multiple climaxes for a plot, and having the results of an action occurring today having serious ramifications for another character months (or a year) down the line. Instead of plot, we get one conversation stretched over an entire episode (Jake and Molly on Friday, for example) or the "daily crisis". The robbery at the caf้ was the latest crisis-du-jour from Laiman/Culliton. Julia in peril, little Curtis leaping into the lake, Jack torn up over it. I'm still not quite sure why it was done -- maybe to bring Jack and Julia closer while using a plot contrivance to drive a wedge between Camille and Isaac. Perhaps it was for more honorable reasons, to cross Jack and Julia into Camille and Isaac's story, to try to give the show a sense of community and connection. Or maybe it was just flat-out laziness. I'm pretty sure it wasn't to address the social issue of juvenile diabetes! But since we've barely met Curtis, and Isaac remains a sketchily formed character at best, it is impossible for me to get caught up in this little melodrama or even care about the outcome. You've got a million of these "daily or weekly crisis stories" to choose from – Barbara's kitchen fire; Lily's family room fire; Denise's illness and hospitalization; Hope's hospitalization when Denise thought she may have swallowed some pills.

As for the rampant repetition that defines this writing regime, I've already given several examples of that above. Regarding long arc storylines and story planning, the only story unfolding now that seems to have been plotted a little into the future is the Lily/Simon story. And yet, the story still feels wobbly and uncertain, plotted only as far ahead as necessary instead of all the way to conclusion. Often the quality is horrendous, as exemplified by the last few scenes between Lily and Rose in the hotel suite on Friday. I don't like Leah Laiman and Carolyn Culliton's writing and storytelling. To me, it runs counter to the core qualities that define the soap opera format. And until Goutman, Laiman and Culliton agree to change their overall style and approach to story and character, I will probably never be happy with this regime.

So am I ever going to get to some good stuff and some "Praise you, Goutman, Laiman and Culliton?" Yes, I am. The most obvious praise – although one wouldn't think this would be cause for comment, much less praise – is that we actually have story unfolding. At one point under Goutman, Laiman and Culliton, there was only one storyline on ATWT. Now we have three storylines up and churning. However, the strength of Laiman and Culliton is not in creating short-arc storylines (obviously). (I can't comment on their long arc story telling, since they have yet to create or start one.) Their strength is in writing individual, stand-alone episodes, or -- a more frequent occurrence -- individual scenes. Kim and John's scenes on Thursday over Andy's disappearance are an excellent example of good writing enhanced by excellent acting. I've also noticed that occasionally some scenes will run several minutes in length, letting the conversation unfold and the mood of the scene build and crescendo. Though these types of scenes are rare, a few months ago they were non-existent.

An example of this was Katie and Henry's long and illuminating conversation in the hotel after Katie had put a liplock on Holden. I've noticed a real improvement in the dialogue. It used to be so bad that I would quote examples of it liberally throughout my critique. Now there are far fewer clich้ lines, and the characters now regularly interact in real conversations instead of parroting things back to each other. Granted, Ben and Denise seem to have the same conversation in every scene. But at least the dialogue sounds more like real people speak, and characters are not as often stuck with flippant and hip phrases or bitchy banter (with the exception of Friday's episode). The silliness and dumb comedy have been drastically toned down, too (with the exception of Friday's episode). There haven't been any sheik fantasies or "Carly in curlers" filler scenes for a long time, and I thank the writers so much for that. The writers have at times attempted to delve deeper into character and motivation through dialogue and interaction. A good example of this occurred on Wednesday when Jack was talking about how parents of children such as Curtis need to care and be actively involved in their lives and Julia brought up Jack's mother, Delores, and her own mother. The writers finally backed down from the Chris and Abigail romance, horribly told from the very beginning and forced down our throats with too many scenes and too much vocalized support from Bob, Kim, and any other beloved veteran Laiman and Culliton could use as lip service for their propaganda. The slow refocus of Chris and Abigail towards other characters on the canvas is a positive thing. Moving Chris into Emily's orbit could turn out to be brilliant if Paul Korver can hold his own opposite Kelley Menighan-Hensley. Hopefully the Chris/Abigail debacle showed the writers that you can't just throw two people together, have them declare undying love and have the audience buy into it. It helps if there's a story that draws them together and supports the love story, which should only be a part of a story, not the primary story itself.

While Henry still remains one-dimensional, the writers have sharpened his edge. I now believe Henry is capable of doing some real damage if pushed too far. If Henry can't be multi-dimensional, at least he's becoming a real and threatening presence that's being felt beyond the sarcastic and caustic. More applause goes to Laiman and Culliton for spelling out Henry's motivation. For once, they didn't go the obvious route. In a refreshing dose of originality, Henry has no romantic interest in Katie at all. And that makes their alliance all the more delicious. This couple is bound together by a rope of opportunism, blackmail, and reluctant co-dependence. Finally, Andy's disappearance has refocused attention on the Hughes family and has helped eradicate the despicable corner the writers had painted John into regarding Hope's paternity. Not that I didn't understand John's motivation (though it was mostly implied). But his actions were too rash and heartless, even for John. Folding him back into the family fold was a wise move by Laiman and Culliton, averting yet another disaster.

Ultimately, however, I can't help but be tremendously disheartened when I look at ATWT as a whole. Each story told by this regime has been a disappointment (and that puts it mildly). The Reid/David saga was brought to a hurried and terrible conclusion when Laiman took over. (As an aside, though Daniel Markel will always be the "real" David to me, it was still nice to see Keith Coulouris back this week, all bearded and sexy and menacing as David! I was never a big fan of the Reid/David storyline. I thought that the plastic surgery component and having David assume Reid's identity as envisioned by then-head writer Lorraine Broderick was too far-fetched for ATWT. However, after almost a year of Laiman/Culliton, the Reid/David umbrella story now in retrospect, while always acknowledged as an ambitious undertaking, did not deserve all the critical lambasting I gave it at the time.)

The Alec murder mystery was a mess, featuring unintentionally funny scenes and the worst trial I can ever remember on a show, daytime or primetime. The Chris and Abigail romance and her subsequent runaway story in New York was a huge bomb. Emily has yet to get the "new life and new direction" the writers promised and is in fact still heavily involved with Tom. The "You Slept with my Mother" climax of the Chris/Molly affair was an embarrassment, as comatose as Molly after her tumble down a flight of stairs to sustain the inevitable Laiman/Culliton "severe head trauma". I've lost count of the number of people in Oakdale who have threatened to leave town, or who have actually left town and then come back. The Simon/Lily and "Who's that turn of the century woman in the picture" story has gotten off to a very shaky start, either boring viewers to death or inspiring mild curiosity at best. The Andy/Denise/Hope storyline has been a mixed success. It has really brought some of the veteran characters to the forefront, which has been good. But the story has only been told in halves. Holden and Lily have been totally forgotten in Hope's life, which for this viewer, is unforgiveable. And components of the story that could have been explored were either ignored by taking the easiest route – Andy had no real problems accepting or settling into fatherhood – or were sacrificed in favor of the shocking – Andy and Denise get married! Ben walks out!

The writers still don't know what to do with Julia and the gorgeous Annie Parisse, although weaving her back with Jack is not a bad thing in my opinion. In Jack/Julia/Carly, you have a classic soap triangle. Most producers and writers milk a good triangle for years (Ridge/Brooke/Taylor on B&B; Sami/Austin/Carrie on Days). Under Broderick's skillful hand, viewers were split down the middle on who Jack should be with. I think we still are. I, for one, enjoyed Jack's relationships with both women during Broderick's tenure. I'm still not sure who Jack should be with – Carly, Julia, or maybe even someone else (down the line). So why not capitalize on a good thing? It would give the audience – FINALLY! – something to have a stake in, something to have friendly arguments over, something to watch unfold on-screen that would reel us in, and a real storyline for the mega-talented Michael Park to sink his teeth into. But I've digressed, so I'll return to the matter at hand. It's not surprising that the stories of Laiman/Culliton start with a bang and end with a whimper. When you make it up as you go along, the chances of reaching an explosive climax are next to none. A stick of dynamite doesn't go off until the fuse it lit and it burns all the way down. And that's a pretty apt description of Goutman, Laiman and Culliton's World: A big stick of dynamite. . .with no fuse to light and therefore, no great explosion.

Grade for the Week: C-
Performances of the Week: Larry Bryggman; Kathryn Hays; Martha Byrne; Lauren B. Martin; Michael Park; Keith Coulouris; Kelley Menighan-Hensley.

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