|
|
|
One of the tragedies of the current crop of soap writers and producers (give or take one or two) is that they rarely utilize the history of their soap in meaningful ways. The former executive team of ATWT (Felicia Minei-Behr and Lorraine Broderick) could perhaps be criticized of not using history enough. But they certainly did not ignore it completely, nor neglect to weave it into storylines in ways big and small. When a writer reaches into the past to tell the present, the result is often a story with more resonance. Watching Molly hold Melinda this week brought the past to the present, recalling when Molly was so pathetically fixated on Holden. Guided by Lorraine Broderick's long arc story and wide vision, the woman whom Lily and Holden probably trusted the least was the one in whom they were forced to place their cautious faith. Molly once tried to use a child (Abigail) to split Holden and Lily. Two years later, in a deliciously ironic storyline climax, through Molly a child was given to the couple. It is yet another example of the luxury a long arc storyline gives the writers to develop and weave story, and the benefits it reaps for the audience. I watched the scenes between Julia and Jack from that same viewpoint of nostalgia, eyes cast back much as Julia's were when she said she wished she were the woman she was back then and, unspoken but implied, not the woman she was now. John tore into Andy over his relationship with Molly and, if you could focus beyond the ferocious performances of Larry Bryggman and Scott DeFreitas, the scene again uncovered John's heartbreak at losing not one, but two sons in as many years. One of the joys of watching a soap is its history. All the scenes I mentioned above were solid and well written enough to stand on their own. Because they wove past history with the present evelated them beyond good to excellent. For a show which can soar so high on emotion, I was disappointed at the moment when Holden, and then later, Lily, first saw Melinda. We, the audience, had been waiting for that milestone a long time. I know Lorraine Broderick will always choose restraint over melodrama, choose quiet and implied over loud and telegraphed. That's one sign of a good writer, and one thing I enjoyed about Broderick's tenure on ATWT. But this was one of those rare instances when less was not more, when, because of the subject matter, grander emotions and urgency were required. The audience needed to see some old-fashioned soap scenes and (I admit it) scenes which recalled the more melodramatic decades gone by. Holden should have entered that hotel room and paused, as the camera cut from him to Melinda and back again, while the impact of that first encounter registered. Similarly, Lily's first sighting of the baby wasn't as powerful as it could have been, given the muted texture of the scene coupled with Martha Byrne's subdued performance. Make no mistake: Both Byrne and Jon Hensley were great! But for actors (especially Byrne) who have played this story with such conviction, the initial contact with their stolen daughter was surprisingly controlled and tear-free. Broderick has been accused (even by me) of not knowing how to climax a story in true soap fashion with grand emotional scenes that build to a thrilling payoff (major or minor). The downfall of Carly helped disprove that. It was daytime drama at its best. Unfortunately, the first climax of the Reid/David story -- Lily and Holden finding and seeing their daughter -- had the critics' words ringing in my ears again. Overall, it was good. But afterwards, I kept wishing there had been more. As disappointing as Lily and Holden's first sighting of Melinda was, the actual transfer of Melinda from Reid/David to the couple was dreadful! Here was the second major climax of the story, segments that should have been swimming in emotional complexity. Or, as we say in soapland, a three hanky episode. What we got was a story resolution as emotionally dry as the Sahara Desert. The entire resolution should have played out longer. It would have played best as two (or more) long, uninterrupted scenes. Instead, the writers, perhaps trying to build suspense and anticipation, cut the scenes into fragments. This halted any chance of a sustained emotional connection the audience was trying to make. It stalled the story momentum in its tracks. Instead of excellent dialogue and an exploration of the relationships between a couple, between parents and a child, between a man and a child, and between two lovers, we instead witnessed the implausible and mouth-gaping moment when Lily (as protected as she could possibly be inside the vehicle) LEFT the car and practically ran into Reid's arms! That brief moment sent one very obvious signal: The writers gave little thought to this storyline climax. Molly, torn between doing the right thing and her tumultous history with David, had dialogue which did not so much persuade and cajole as it did threaten. Snap, snap, and Reid was convinced. (However, Lesli Kay Sterling deserves recognition for another week of outstanding performances.) That unzipped dress Molly was wearing symbolized for me the two directions in which she was pulled. I'm sure the symbolism I found was not planned and inserted by the writers, as the scenes did not demonstrate they had a real handle on the material. Most horrifying? Keith Coulouris, so excellent this week, was cheated in his pivotal scene! His character, and the audience, needed one or two long monologues. The monologues could have been cathartic, but at the very least could have given the character some much neede humanity and dimension. Coulouris was given about four lines of dialogue in the moments before he relinquished the baby. Coulouris' aching performance -- he had Reid in such pain that the words seemed to catch in his throat -- added depth to a woefully underwritten scene. Then Reid handed the baby over and the police sirens were heard. This, then, was the climax to a long arc story -- a story by reason of its subject matter brimming with emotional layers -- that resolved itself as stiffly and hollowly as the fake baby Lily and Reid fought over during their skirmish. If Executive Producer Christopher Goutman and new head writer Leah Laiman wanted to wrap this story up expediently, then that is their right. But to script a climax so weak and half-hearted -- almost as an afterthought, it seemed -- is unforgiveable! Could not Lorraine Broderick have been given one or two more days to bring this story to climax with the care and assuredness she demonstrated in the Carly storyline? Carly's got a long way to go now, as Jack pointed out on Thursday. Carly herself managed to convey the size of the mountain she has to climb in a scene with Hal when she told him the only thing she truly needed to try and do: Change. Whether Carly can change remains to be seen. There was a part of me that wished Carly had gotten some of that cash in the safe at Fairwinds. But I guess the writers felt the need to take Carly all the way back to ground zero, including financially. I remember initially questioning Broderick's decision to have Carly come into 50 million dollars. With all that wealth, I figured Carly would lose her edge, her drive, all the traits that make the character so deliciously fascinating (and occasionally aggravating). But Broderick was right all along. Now that Carly has had a taste of the good life (and now that she's a mother), her drive to provide the best for herself and her son is stronger than ever. Down, but not out, as the writers have already demonstrated. In Carly's eyes, success and prestige came easily for Barbara. No wonder the two despise each other so much! Moreover, all the recent Carly and Hal scenes did was reinforce how misguided I think the reunion is of Barbara and Hal. This coupling has been done before -- twice! So why hasn't it occurred to anyone how horribly mismatched Barbara and Hal are? There is no strong chemistry between Colleen Zink-Pinter and Benjamen Hendrickson. Hendrickson plays Hal as such a solid, stand-up guy -- the epitome of middle-class security and comfort. Zink-Pinter's selfish, superior take on Barbara, plus Barbara's financial worth and celebrity, create a character who wouldn't look twice at Hal Munson. So what's my point? That in a few instances in soap storytelling, the past -- like David Stenbeck -- is best left buried. Hal and Barbara are a prime example. Both characters are far more interesting apart than together. Since Friday's show stood in such stark contrast to the rest of the episodes this week, I am going to devote a little space to Friday's ATWT. We got to see some new faces, which was both a good thing (Emily) and a bad thing (Alec). Overall, the scenes were much weaker than anything which preceded it this week. I also noticed much less of the beautiful music which has underscored the show over the past few weeks. The material didn't seem to have the substance which lends itself to music, quite a contrast to the quiet moments Broderick scripted during her final few weeks (As an example, pick a Emma/Julia conversation, or a Jack/Carly encounter, or a Molly/Andy scene). Very irritating were the many scenes which ended with a character saying a final line aloud to him - or herself. (Lucinda: "I'm ready to pitch a no-hitter." Molly: "And David won't forget this, either.") I don't like it, because it's hokey, cookie-cutter soap writing that often makes the characters look foolish. ATWT characters rarely talk to themselves now, and they rarely lurk. Lorraine Broderick dispensed with both of those annoying soap standards and the show was the better for it. But returning to the foolish, Elizabeth Hubbard's much ballyhooed return was -- in a word -- humiliating! The highlights? She turned a bowl of rice pudding over. She had her hair clipped with berets and standing on end. The final insult? A grating, twangy nurse I think -- THINK -- was meant to be there for comic relief, but who gratingly pounded into my head how sorry the material really was. Hubbard wasn't alone, however, in getting some bad plotting. Margo, Alec, Jennifer, and Adam suffered through a series of embarrassing scenes at Java, which featured Adam telling Alec he would "have to answer to him" followed by the teenager hiding behind a magazine later as Margo and Alec kissed. It was hokey and obvious writing, mirrored back at the police station when Tom asked Hal where Margo was and -- MAGIC WAND TIME -- in walked Margo and Alec, billing and cooing! I know it's day two of Leah Laiman's duties as head writer. But just compare this episode to the worst -- yes, the worst -- of Lorraine Broderick. Based upon that, it would appear intelligence is giving away to forced humor, carefully thought out scenes to cliche. I know I'm jumping the gun. . .but I'm worried. Friday's episode was appallingly bad. I sincerely hope it's was a fluke and the best is yet to come. Odds N Ends: 1. I enjoyed immensely the scene between Emma and Julia as they wax-danced the floor in socked feet. (It's my favorite Leah Laiman scene so far.) Some would say it was a throwaway scene. But sometimes a soap needs a scene which does nothing more than elicit a laugh and reinforce a bond, or recall those things which make-up a character. Actually, this scene served a big purpose. It "freed" Julia, who has been under a cloud of sadness and uncertainty for a long time. Annie Parisse, looking absolutely radiant and with her hair curly and falling around her face, twisted and slid across the floor, her long limbs moving in a random, flailing manner which was almost graceful in its wildness. In that moment Parisse's Julia, untamed and laughing, never looked so desirable and appealing. As Kathleen Widdoes matched Julia slide for slide, the scene took on a giddy exhileration. It was a glimpse at small town family life, at the relationships that extend beyond family, and the fun found in the "daily doings" of life. 2. Brad and Camille's final scene recalled not so much their past, but what might have been. Lauren Martin, a master at the "longing look", tried to stir up some feeling. It was all one-sided. The scene remained framed in a desperate need to connect and, despite their efforts, John Loprieno and Martin looked like two business acquaintances saying goodbye. That kiss could just as easily have been a handshake for all the emotion it generated. 3. Thunderous applause once again to the music which accompanies most scenes. The scoring is understated. It is melodic. It usually perfectly matches the action onscreen. And you're aware of it, but not to the point of intrusion. To the musical directors of ATWT: You're wonderful! Grade for the Week:
Lorraine Broderick's Material: A-. |
|
|