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Do you remember record players? Lowering the needle very gently onto a 33 RPM record and listening? If it was an older record, there might be some pops or crackles in the background. The worst, though, was when the needle got stuck and the same short phrase of music repeated itself again and again. When this happened, there was usually a dash to the turntable and a hurried swipe at the needle. Sometimes the record got scratched, creating that horrible sliding needle-against-vinyl sound. That's what watching As the World Turns reminds me of these days. The same scenes, the same dialogue, and the same basic scenarios repeat themselves, like a phonograph needle stuck on a record. Think of Executive Producer Christopher Goutman's excellent visual style as the album cover -- attractive, inviting, promising so much (new opening, beautiful stars, better production values). But take the ATWT record from the sleeve, place it on the phonograph, lower the needle, and what do you hear? The same melodic phrase again and again -- the needle stuck in a scratch. The repetition takes on a rhythm of its on, a macabre assault on the senses. Eventually it reaches the unbearable point. Chris and Molly have sex. Then Molly hides (from Andy). Chris and Molly have sex. Then Chris hides (from Carly). Chris and Molly have sex. Then Molly. . .kicks Chris out. Carly is evicted (mansion). Carly quits her job (Mona Lisa). Carly gets a job (Diner). Carly quits her job (Diner). Carly gets her job back (Diner). Carly is evicted (condemned building). Denise is hit over the head (sustaining a head injury) and almost dies. Eddie is shot (sustaining a head injury) and almost dies. Tom is hit over the head (sustaining a head injury), almost drowns, and almost dies. Eddie flatlined. Tom flatlined. (I can't remember if Denise flatlined, but I'd bet even money she did.) Add characters saying the same thing twice (Eddie to Alec on Monday after learning Tom was in the lake: "He's got to be in there! He's got to be in there! We've got to find him! We've got to find him! Where'd he fall in? Where?") and you have the current ATWT. The show is stuck in a repetitious nightmare, style glossily camouflaging as substance, quality draining from the show like someone opened the creativity valve and released a steady stream of words and sentences and storylines into a black abyss. For every improvement in production values Executive Producer Christopher Goutman makes, he cannot disguise nor cover his one major mistake so far: Hiring a writing team that chooses plot device and cliché over real dialogue and storylines, who will choose the easiest way to move from point A to B, and whose scenes are so carelessly tossed together and worded that it frames entire episodes in amateurism. I want so desperately to praise ATWT. So I look and look for something. . .anything. . .of quality in the writing and execution to laud, and all I can come up with are small fragments of excellence, like little diamond chips shining in dirt. It's as if we got a gift. When we tore off the wrapping, we discovered it was a record, a recording of a symphony orchestra featuring a (possibly) brilliant conductor (Goutman), definitely brilliant musicians (the actors), and the finest instruments (sets, costumes, etc). But when we lower the needle onto the record, we hear a musical score (head writers Leah Laiman, Carolyn Culliton, and the writing team) consisting of the opening four notes of Beethoven's Fifth over and over. Pum-pum-pum Pummmmmmm. Pum-pum-pum Pummmmmmm. Pum-pum-pum Pummmmmmm. Pum-pum-pum Pummmmmmm. The majority of story this week centered on Alec, Tom, and Margo. Alec clobbered Tom and then pushed him into the lake, just seconds before Eddie appeared. Yet the writers denied the scene any chance of building in urgency and tension when they had Alec lean over, look into the murky water and bellow, "Tom! Where are you? Talk to me!" (That's right: "Talk to me." I even rewound my tape to make sure I had heard the line correctly.) With dialogue so unintentionally hilarious, the scene immediately jack-knifed into slapstick. That scene symbolized a lot of what is wrong with ATWT. When drama turns unintentionally comical, when cutesy scenes and snappy retorts replace real conversation, when shouting and yelling cover weak dialogue, then there are major problems. The fear and unease that should have blanketed the moment when Alec held Tom's head under water was never allowed to reach a crescendo because the writers sabotaged everything around it with too much repetitious shouting and cheesy dialogue. But what truly amazes me is how Laiman and Culliton don't even attempt to hide the absurdities of their writing. In fact, they point it out! Just as I was thinking how ridiculous it was that Eddie would be up and around and jumping into lakes so soon after being hospitalized, Alec turned to him on the dock and said, "Eddie! You've just had open heart surgery!" And witness this exchange between Margo and Lisa later at the hospital: Margo: "Lisa! I'm so glad you're here." "Lisa: "Well, where else do you think I'd be?" And once more I found myself laughing. I totally agree that Laiman (and Culliton) have brought humor back to ATWT. I just had no idea how much of the humor would be unintentional. Sometimes, however, the writers do try to script something serious. So I sat with my fingers crossed, anticipating. . .no, PRAYING. . .for a richly emotional scene as Tom's parents sat by his bedside. Instead, the writers had both characters immediately start spouting trite cliches. First Lisa spoke: "Now, Tom. . .You're gonna fight this thing and you're gonna win." Then Bob said: "You've always had a knack for beating the odds and you're gonna beat this, too." I'll accept the occasional cliché line if there is something of substance that follows. But on ATWT, there rarely is. Cliches and the same dialogue rephrased or parroted back to another character, or the same scene basically repeated, dominate the show! Hal tore into Margo on Wednesday and John tore into Margo on Thursday. The scenes were so similar that Margo's initial reaction was the same. (Margo to Hal on Wednesday: "You know what? I really don't need another lecture." Margo to John on Thursday: "John, I don't have time for a lecture here.") Having scenes filmed mostly in close-up and using appropriate, tension-building music draws in the audience and helps cover the bad dialogue and overall poor writing. And Margo's monologue with Tom on Thursday as she pleaded with him to wake up was the best written material for her this week. But Laiman and Culliton are masters at having the characters say a lot, but actually say nothing. If anything of substance does seep into the conversation, the cliches blanketing it like cheap tissue paper often ruin the moment. There is carelessness in the writing everywhere on ATWT. I am going to attempt to illustrate this using three women featured prominently this week: Carly, Emily, and Margo. The writers had Carly tell Jack the following on Tuesday at Al's Diner: "Because this job. . .this lousy job. . .is the only thing I have left in the entire world!" If you know Carly even a tiny bit, you know those words would never come from her mouth. In recent times, Carly's lone redeeming quality was her total love and devotion to Parker. But what made the line ring so false and stand out like a sore thumb was that, moments earlier, Carly had just removed Parker's picture from her bag and LOOKED AT IT! Scenes like this one aren't minor little glitches in an episode. They are major flaws in writing and structure that need to be stopped! Jack would never have to remind Carly about her son. The single thread of this wobbly, paper-thin story has been that the reason Carly's getting her life back in order is primarily BECAUSE of her son! Carly and Jack spent an entire episode at the diner on Tuesday. Yet from all those scenes emerged only one truly wonderful and well-written (in its simplicity) moment. Carly and Jack had just each taken a bite of pastry. "Mmmm. Sweet," Carly said. "Very," Jack replied. Carly: "I was talking about you." Next: Emily. Frankly, I was appalled by Emily's scene at Tom's bedside on Tuesday. Again, I was hoping the writers would bring something new to the scene, perhaps a monologue that deepened Emily's motivation, where she expressed her feelings for Tom, or what she wanted, or how his accident had affected her. Instead, Emily sat there and read (to Tom) Margo's letter to Alec! If Emily truly was in love with Tom – and we've seen nothing to indicate otherwise – why would she risk his recovery (or, in more melodramatic terms, his life) by doing that? It made NO sense. Was it consistent with Emily's character? Only if she is a conniving, scheming woman with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, not in love with Tom Hughes, and determined to harm him. The Emily who sat in Tom's room on Tuesday was a stranger to me, so pathetic and so one-dimensional as to be stripped not only of her business acumen and brains, but anything remotely redeeming about her. What a tribute to Kelley Menighan-Hensley and her talent that she was able to bring some small semblance of humanity to the scene. Her talent was on display all week in scenes with Tom, Alec, Kim, and Susan, playing material far beneath what she deserves. Now let's look at the hatchet job the writers have done on Margo. For the character of Margo to be where she is at this point, and – very important – for the audience to be able to identify with her and understand her motivation, this story should have been told over a minimum of six to eight months. We needed the time to see Margo moving in her feelings for Alec from suspicious to less suspicious, to indifference, to cautiously trusting, and on down the line until there was a real emotional connection. We needed to see the issues revisited which rocked Margo's self-esteem and caused her to become so vulnerable to Alec's power, attractiveness, and surface charm. However, due to the rapidity of the story, and no development of the material beyond the basics, the character of Margo appeared to flip from Tom to Alec (and now back to Tom) like a pancake in a hot skillet. By Friday, the Margo/Alec duet had sprinted on to guns in briefcases, a bullet hidden in a potted plant, and spiked champagne. And the absurd dialogue continued: Margo to Alec on Friday after he found the bullet, wrapped it in a hanky, and pounded it: "What are you doing? Building an arc for our old-fashioned cruise? I heard all this hammering. It sounded painful." For me, the character of Margo was lost a long time ago in countless shouting matches with Tom and Hal, and in just as many aborted embraces and excuses with Alec before they finally consummated their relationship. I can't get caught up in the tension and strained relationship between Hal and Margo when the writers put crap like this in their mouths: Margo: "You've got squat. You've got rumor and innuendo. You're bluffing. Fold." Hal: "This isn't a card game." Margo: "No. It's life or death. And I'm doing what I have to do." Hal: "I'm hearing it. But I'm still not buying it." How ironically appropriate Hal's last two lines are when you expand them to apply to the writing in general. That scene between Hal and Margo's on Wednesday was dreadful material, and made worse by Margo saying the SAME LINE ("I am going to do what I have to do.") in the very next scene. Instead of insight into Margo, the writers just give us a jumble of words, such as this from Margo on Tuesday at Tom's bedside. "It just seems the more I talk, the more confused I get." That's a hoot of a line, isn't it? It's a perfect example of a character saying something, but really saying nothing. But here's what Margo said next: "It's just that I have so many questions and the answers are so important." Another howler, but this one very true. There are a lot of questions, because the writers never addressed the complexities of character that joined Margo and Alec. When Margo finally voiced these things at Tom's bedside on Wednesday (Margo: "You know that my gut has saved me. . .like. . .what? A hundred times? But I was just so full of myself. I was so stubborn that I couldn't hear me. . .or you. . .or Lisa, or Hal, or anybody who said anything against Alec. I was just so full of hurt that I purposely blocked you out."), it was too little too late. And are we really supposed to believe just a combination of stubbornness and hurt caused Margo to change so drastically? Apparently so, because on Wednesday Alec told Margo, "Tom. . .Your family. . .They've cut you out. They've turned you into the Wicked Witch of the West." The very next day, however, the writers had moved that title to Molly. (Molly to Chris on Thursday: "You know, Chris, as far as your family is concerned, I'm the Wicked Witch of the West who ripped out Andy's heart and stomped on it."). But with the character of Margo so disjointed and scrambled – symbolically as hazy and stumbling as she was at the end of Friday's episode – I suppose Wicked Witch is just as good a character profile as any. And leave it to Laiman and Culliton to spread it around. After all, repetition is their strength. I can't remember a time I've ever watched ATWT when there was only ONE storyline. But that's what we have now. Approximately three months after the departure of former head writer Lorraine Broderick, after one week when the show went dark, and after the addition of a co-head writer (Carolyn Culliton) to join Leah Laiman, we now have one story (Alec/Tom/Margo), and a lot of daily set pieces and segments (Abigail follows Molly; Camille gets a job). This, plus dialogue as clunky as a second graders' homemade ceramic ashtray, is turning the show into an unstructured, rambling mess. Examples? Laiman and Culliton devoted all of Chris and Molly's scenes on Monday to them talking about talking. Or, as Chris put it, "From now on, we're just verbally communicating." He then asked Molly her favorite color. I'll admit Molly's response was touching. But since all the "cutesy" talk which preceded it had numbed the mind into submission, her words – "The color of my daughters eyes" – hung there like Wyle E. Coyote on a Road Runner cartoon after he had unknowingly run off the road and found himself standing in mid-air. (And yes, I know I just compared ATWT to a cartoon show.) As to what kind of relationship Chris and Molly have, or what has drawn them to each other (if it isn't the sex), even the writers don't seem to know. Here's what Molly said about it on Thursday: "Chris, it's just getting really complicated. What we have is. . .Well, it just is what it is." It is what it is because the writers are making it up as they go along, though Carly did provide some insight on Friday: Carly to Chris: "Face it, Junior. You just got promoted. You're a boyfriend now." Jack and Carly spent the entire Tuesday episode in Al's Diner. They talked, Jack kissed Carly, and he left. On Thursday, Jack and Carly spent the entire episode in Al's Diner. This time they talked about finding her a place to live, but they didn't kiss. On Friday, Jack and Carly spent the entire episode in Al's Diner talking about the new place Carly would live. (Do you see a pattern?) Based on the dumbest of reasons (Molly refused to let Carly live with her because she needs to be on her own), Carly now will move onto the farm with Emma. Contrived? It's contrived defined. How long can the writers coast on the talents and chemistry of Maura West and Michael Park? In lieu of exploring issues and have the resolution of a plot come about through character and story evolvement, the writers use plot tricks to trigger a resolution. I'll give two more examples: They used Denise's hospitalization to resolve who should raise Hope. And they used Tom's hospitalization (plus Alec almost pulling the plug on Tom) as a device to have Margo wise up and see the truth about her boyfriend. I guess there's nothing like near death to bring "clarity" to a situation. With this writing team, apparently it's the ONLY thing. And just because the writers have a character(s) say it (Lily: "I know we did the right thing giving Hope to Denise.") doesn't automatically guarantee the audience will jump on board in total agreement. There's subtle manipulation of the audience, and then there's not-so-subtle. Guess which one this writing team uses. You have to look long and hard to find something of real quality in the writing on ATWT -- a scene that moves you, or a conversation that is not lost in banalities. For example, Lily and Holden had a conversation on Wednesday. It stretched – you guessed it -- the entire episode. It could have (and should have) been done in two scenes. From all of that screen time came one good moment. Before that, we were subjected to the usual inanities. (Lily: "This is not about winterizing the house, Holden! This is about us.") The writers pretty much dropped Hope's story, so it was kind of jarring to have it picked back up for a day. Nonetheless, in the final scene I felt for Holden when he said to Lily, "I don't blame you. And I don't doubt we did the right thing. But I'm still hurting." Why was I moved? Because the prior story had strongly established Holden's attachment to the child, plus the dialogue was better and had some substance. Emma's apology to Carly on Friday was another good scene and featured some solid dialogue. (Carly to Emma: "You humiliated me in front of him (Parker). Did you really think that wouldn't matter?"). That line cut to the quick. The show needs more scenes and dialogue like that. Adam's scenes at Tom's bedside were powerful and moving, primarily due to Craig Lawlor's raw and tearful performance. I didn't react to the words Adam spoke, but to Lawlor's total surrender to Adam's pain and fear and confusion. It was a brave performance from this young actor and was the highlight of ATWT this week. Now contrast that scene to the one where Lawlor was forced to rely on the dialogue in the (endless) "Buddy-Man" scene with Eddie. (Adam: "So I'm supposed to believe now that this guy who's been messing with my Mom's head is some sort of hero?" Eddie: "Oh, I don't know, Adam, that's your call. But what I will say, man, is that adults. . .They screw up all the time, even more than you and I. And the thing is. . .they try so hard to do the right thing and come up short, buddy.") It was horrible dialogue that weighed the scene down until it slogged to conclusion. If I'm not cringing at the dialogue (Jake to Lucinda on Friday: "Alec Wallace is like a sociopathic bull and you're waving my wife around in front of him like a red flag!") , I'm laughing uproariously at conversations such as this one on Wednesday. Bob: "Margo hasn't been herself for quite a while now." Lisa: "Who is she, then?" Hal, entering the room: "Good question." Lisa: "Hal, please. Tell us you know something we don't know." Well, here's something I do know that perhaps EP Goutman and head writers Laiman and Culliton don't know. Without good dialogue and rich, character driven storylines, we're having to make our emotional connections through the outstanding performances of actors such as Kelley Menighan-Hensley and Craig Lawlor, or the history evoked when Lisa and Bob clasp hands or embrace, or watching Carly and Jack share a pastry and a warm smile. We're looking elsewhere for our emotional connections because it's not there in the daily writing. Odds N Ends:
Grade for the Week: D+ |
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