Vens Critique - Week of Aug. 16 to 20, 1999

NOTE: Due to an electrical outage in my neighborhood, I was not able to watch the August 19 episode of ATWT. Therefore, this critique is for the four episodes of August 16, 17, 18, and 20. Even a cursory examination of the writing on ATWT reveals how quickly the style of a head writer can be adopted and how it can affect the quality of a show. It's jarring because, aside from Lorraine Broderick's departure, the writing staff still remains intact. Yet, in Leah Laiman's first full week as head writer, the overall quality of the writing deteriorated. Only Friday's episode held up, and even it had a few shaky moments. Molly's interview with Lily and Holden on Monday bathed the entire episode in an amateurish glow. I understood Molly's motivation. But I couldn't quite believe Lily and Holden's rapid consent, given their disdain for the spotlight and the fact they had just walked through the door with Faith/Melinda. This was the route the writers chose over scenes filled with family and rejoicing. Instead of a big, celebratory scene in the Synder kitchen with Emma and Jack meeting Melinda/Faith, there was a basket of baked goods and a note in Lily and Holden's foyer. Hoping the interview would be mercifully brief, I watched as the writers dragged the scene all the way into cornball camp, culminating in the following laughable exchange when the doorbell rang: Lily: "Who is it, Holden?" Holden: "It's the police." What followed was, I'm guessing, a tribute to the Fox TV show "Cops". Through the camera lens of WOAK, we watched Molly being handcuffed and dragged away. "Cut!" Molly squawked. "I said CUT!" (Coincidentally, I happened to be yelling the same thing at my TV screen.) Holden then returned to the living room and, as if nothing had happened, he and Lily began bouncing babies on knees and got back to the business of reuniting their family. What would have been your preference? A warm, moving, and fun family celebration over Melinda/Faith's return? Or Not-So-Hard Copy starring Molly Conlan? One requires solid writing and the ability to move and touch the audience. The other requires little more than the ability to structure a scene in a basic format. And THAT was the real news story on Monday's ATWT. Somewhere in FLORIDA Lucinda looked at the television and exclaimed, "That's my daughter!" Since when do the newsworthy events of a small city in Illinois receive coverage in Florida? Oh, yes, I recall Molly mentioning that the return of Melinda/Faith to her parents might generate some national attention. I suppose that line was intended to explain how Lucinda saw Molly's live broadcast. Sorry, but it was ridiculous and implausible. These days, unfortunately, it takes more than finding a missing child to generate national media attention. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, Elizabeth Hubbard crouched down inches from the TV, removed her glasses, and caressed the screen as it showed a wild-eyed, crazed photo of Reid/David. (It made me think of the Madonna video, "Take a Bow", where Madonna paid erotic and lusty homage to a bullfighter by worshipping his on-screen visage.) But at least the old Lucinda is back, you say! I sure don't see her. Lucinda left the hospital, but she took her wheelchair. Very symbolic. Instead of fighting her enemy head-on, so far Lucinda is hiding behind the crutch of physical impairment. (She even first presented herself that way to Molly on Friday at the fog covered docks.) There were some good scenes between Holden and Lucinda during Lucinda's homecoming. Yet the writers again passed a golden opportunity for some warm and intimate scenes at Lucinda's return. They scratched around the surface (Lucinda holding her granddaughter; Lily's happiness at the homecoming). But even guaranteed tearjerkers still require sensitive writing and the appropriate mood to get the waterworks flowing. Lucinda's homecoming didn't even put a pea-sized lump in my throat. I did, however, smile when John walked into the room. Elizabeth Hubbard, never known for subtlety, gave Lucinda the reflexes of a college football punter during John's examination. So Lucinda's back. She's still crafty, and she can still roar. But it could not disguise that Lucinda returned to Oakdale in the costume of the Cowardly Lion(ess). Part of what made the climax to the baby Parker paternity storyline so fulfilling was that Lorraine Broderick had the characters react to what happened to Carly with compassion instead of satisfaction. Aside from the approprirate reactions of Rosanna, Brad, and Barbara, there was no gloating or obvious delight in Carly's downfall. (Carly's scene with Emma served to symbolize the overall tone and feelings of the majority.) Which is why it was so disturbing to watch Lisa's unabashed glee in providing Carly housing in the basement and making her the Mona Lisa bathroom attendant. Lisa's actions quickly crossed over into cruelty, as she delighted (there's no other word for it) in repeatedly humiliating Carly. It wasn't funny. In fact, it was unpleasant to watch. And it only got worse. In a series of horribly written and executed scenes, Julia invited Jack into the ladies restroom (I'm not making this up!) because "There's someone hiding in the stall. I saw feet disappearing." The absurdity continued and led to the following bad dialogue: Jack: "I'm a police officer with the Oakdale PD. We've had a report that there's someone in there. You can make it easy on yourself and come out now." (With your hands up and your skirt down, I'm assuming.) If your jaw didn't hit the floor by then, it should have when Carly explained she had been standing on top of the toilet because it was broken. Or, for the clincher, when Lisa remarked that the restaurant patrons were "wondering what's going on in the ladies room" even though the facilities appeared to be around the corner and out of sight of the diners. Was this truly intended to be comic relief? If not, what purpose did the scene serve? To debase Carly? Laiman had already taken care of that in earlier scenes with Lisa. Besides, the Carly I know -- even a homeless Carly -- would never have taken the job to begin with. The scene was a pointless, twisted mess, written with little regard for logic, much less character. Considering the demeaning circumstances ("You were hiding, Cookie," Lisa snapped, in yet another simplistic line of dialogue), it should have sent up a red flag to the audience that the writers were not focusing on content, nor integrity, but seem to prefer gimmicks and buffoonery. At one point, as Lisa haughtily explained the rules of powder room etiquette, Carly asked, "What is this? An episode of Masterpiece Theatre?" Not even close, Carly. Not even close. There are a few things we all know about Carly and Molly. Their bond is strong. They look out for each other. They are smart women. (Carly didn't just fall into that $50 million. Molly didn't rebuild her life because of good luck.) Leah Laiman already has the cousins treating each other with mock disdain and yapping in loud, overlapping discourses, both talking simultaneously and neither listening. (By the way, that's one way a writer will take up time without actually having the characters SAY anything.) Now, apparently, they don't have a brain between the two of them. What was Carly's brilliant idea to help Molly get out of jail? Flirting with a police officer and asking him (with the promise of a "big reward") to send Molly to Memorial Hospital for a physical examination so her boyfriend would find out and, worried, come rushing to her side. Huh? Do the writers think we're not listening to the dialogue? That we will accept such banality attempting to pass for. . .What? More humor? Certainly not drama. Here's the truth: The intent of the writers wasn't to get Molly OUT of jail. It was to get Carly IN, and they didn't have a real idea of how to do it. So they scripted the first thing that popped into their heads. Things improved on Wednesday as the silliness turned serious. Molly and Carly, seated on the floor, had a real conversation, which ended quietly and effectively. Molly admitted she hated being an outsider. Carly shed some insight into her past, too. Soon enough, however, it was back to the not-so-snappy one-liners as Carly thought she had made bail, when in fact it was Molly. From Molly giving Carly Canadian money on Monday to Carly's "Every jailbird for herself" attitude on Wednesday, I'm starting not to recognize two characters Lorraine Broderick took such painstaking care to make so interesting and fascinating. There was plenty of yelling going on at the police station, too, as Hal and Margo and Jake upped the decibel level over Alec. Margo had just gotten through proving that Jake had no business telling her what to do regarding Alec only in the next instant to shout, "Alright! I'll take the case!" before bolting out the door. Tom Eplin, a major talent, is saddled with a Jake who is now a combination of annoyance and buttinsky. (Eplin's talent, and Jake's truer character, were on much better display Wednesday during his scenes with Lisa.) Margo's investigation disguised as seduction had a desperate quality to it. The writing also made Margo look dumb. Margo was ready to leave the restaurant after having turned down Alec's invitation to spend the night. Then, seeing the eyes of Jake and Tom upon her, she rushed into Alec's arms with a breathless "Read my mind." (It was as subtle as Lucinda's reflex kick.) For the sting to work, Margo's got to be 100 percent believable. But Margo ping-ponged between come-on and come-off to Alec in dizzying displays of tease and withdrawal. The writers also don't give the audience credit for much brain matter, either. First, Alec conveniently left the door partially open on Friday so Margo could hear what was happening with Gary. Secondly, Margo had barely left before Alec was yelling, yes, yelling down the corridor for Gary. Either Alec is majorly in love, or he's not the brightest sequin on Margo's little black dress. Or -- and this is what I'm betting -- the writers are slowly and not so carefully dumbing down the characters. But I need to be fair. It's true that all the players are trapped in a story from the Broderick/Minei-Behr regime which suffered from a bad casting decision and never developed beyond the boring. Unfortunately, the quality of the story apparently will remain at the marginal level all the way to resolution. Odds N Ends: The scenes between Molly and Lucinda at the docks were great for several reasons. One, they were well-written, although I question Molly opening up to her enemy Lucinda the way she did in that loooong monologue, even if she thought Lucinda was incapacitated. Anyway, the music underscored the scenes perfectly. And the material was helped by an impassioned performance from Lesli Kay Sterling and countered by a cold and ruthless turn from Elizabeth Hubbard. The weak point: Molly yelling to the bushes: "Reid! Don't come out! Lucinda's here!" Like I said, Friday's episode was better, but. . .a little bumpy. I thought the scenes at the jail between Andy and Molly were well-written and wonderfully performed by Lesli Kay Sterling and Scott DeFreitas. Solid dialogue. Realism. Emotion. The show is taking on some cruel overtones. In addition to Lisa's actions this week, here was some of Molly's lines to Lucinda on Friday: "You hateful old hag!" "You idiot!" And "Don't you worry your stroked out little brain about it." I thought it was so sweet (and in character) when Jack bailed Carly out of jail and, later at Java, bought her something to eat. But, knowing she was homeless, here was one of Jack's final lines to Carly: "Try the shelter or the bus depot, but try to stay out of trouble." We can expect a few of our characters to behave in cruel and heartless ways. Others never would. I wonder if the writers can tell the difference. Loved the brief, but tender scene of Hal feeding Parker and then singing to him while Barbara looked on. I'm all for levity and comedy on a soap. But not comedy at the expense of character. Not comedy used as filler. And not scenes so poorly written that they become comical only in their absurdity. Grade for August 16, 17, 18, and 20: D+. Performances of the Week: Maura West; Lesli Kay Sterling; Scott DeFreitas; Michael Park; Martha Byrne; Jon Hensley; Elizabeth Hubbard.

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