Match Thirteen
Oh - this could easily go either way depending on my mood and logic.
The Colbys was never as powerful and shocking as
Dynasty's first season. Little to no soap was. But it also never achieved the nadirs I associate with
Dynasty's Karen Cellini era.
The Colbys was certainly head and shoulders above the concurrent seasons of
Dynasty.
And its arrival injected a little sparkle and event into the parent series.
The Colbys contains one of the most compelling conversations between spouses in that divorce papers scene between Jason and Sable. But then Season One of
Dynasty has scene after scene of such scenes. I came into this feeling fairly sure I'd vote for the underdog, but along the way I've convinced myself that no matter how low the lows, they can't negate the highs of those initial seasons. Throw in that its final season was pure quality, and to my own mild surprise...
My vote goes to...
Dynasty
Match Fourteen
Another where I could talk myself into either. And for very different reasons. Just today in another thread we were discussing the poetry of Northern English dialect. And
Connie has that in abundance. And a wonderful cast. And a perfectly short run.
Neighbours is pretty much the opposite. Over eight thousand episodes to
Connie's thirteen. A cast of thousands over the years. Where
Connie is a bespoke piece of hand crafted art,
Neighbours is a kind of soapy sausage factory, producing chains of tasty goodness made from recycled goodness knows what, which people buy in the millions because it's a safe option for teatime. A known quantity.
But sometimes I can't say "no" to a bit of sausage. There's no explaining it, other than to say that there's often a good reason why something is so popular. I can still remember where I was when
Neighbours' first episode aired on BBC1 (on half term break from school, and watching - appropriately enough - in a neighbour's house: a friend from three doors down who'd somehow caught the hype I'd missed about the series and insisted on watching). I loved the comforting brown-beiges of the Seven Network sets that first year. And the sedate pace. The likeable older characters. And the kids who were some years older than me and whose concerns about romance and contraception seemed exotically worldly. In its golden era, those first years in its new home on Channel 10, it seemed everyone at school was talking about it. And the ratings indicated that too. Part of my young self was already pining for the loss of the gloomy brownness of that first year, but there's no denying the Mrs Mangel era had an iconic something that was very special.
Just the other day, I turned on the TV in the early evening, which is quite a rare occurrence. As I flicked, I realised I'd stumbled onto a new episode of
Neighbours - the first new episode I'd seen in goodness knows how long. It's certainly moved on. Goodness knows what Harold Bishop would say about its high definition and gay couple (the first scene I watched saw two men peck on the mouth. Twice). As I watched, there were vaguely familiar faces. A couple of long termers who are after my time but are still known to me for their service to the series. And then a handsome middle aged man appeared, mid relationship drama and I spent half the scene trying to work out how I knew his face. Turns out it was Clive Gibbons who has apparently returned to the series. And I felt great comfort in knowing he's still there and probably still no wiser.
My heart says...
Neighbours