Home and Away “Welcome to Summer Bay”: Rewatching the early years.

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 56-62 (...continued)


And just when things are in danger of getting cosy, Roo’s back. And she’s not on her own:

I’m pregnant… found out yesterday.

Don’t worry. I’ll pay for everything… The operation.

I’m not getting rid of it.

What else can you do? Be an unmarried mother?

Brett. I’m going to have your baby.

I’ll be with you for the operation. I will pay all the bills.

Thanks a lot.

You can’t bring up a baby on your own.

Then I’ll marry someone else.

Who?

I’ll find someone.

In common with Carly’s “attack”, the dialogue around abortion has become rather euphemistic compared with Pippa and Tom discussing a termination openly a few weeks ago. A backwards step towards safety for the series? Perhaps. But the primary purpose of this series is to entertain and on this level Roo’s schoolgirl pregnancy is the best thing to happen to Home and Away yet.

You see, Roo’s pregnancy hormones induced the series’ first flashback montage to earlier episodes and the nostalgia has convinced her to return to Summer Bay. This time with an agenda.

First up is Ailsa, in a scene watched by an effusive Alf:

I’m sorry Ailsa.

Apology accepted. As far as I’m concerned it never happened.

I guess when you and Dad got engaged I was scared everything would change. Friends?

Sure.

When Alf leaves, the dialogue gets rather Sons-and-Daughters-sepia-freeze-frame-ish:

Don’t think I meant anything I said before.

You didn’t fool me for a second… Let’s get one thing very clear. I’ll pretend to be your friend in front of Alf, but only for his sake. Don’t think I trust you for one second… I’m warning you, Roo. You try anything to ruin my engagement and you’ll find you’ve got one god almighty fight on your hands.

Less on the ball is Frank who is thrown by Roo’s newly friendly attitude, but happy to be on good terms again. And lest the viewer be as forgiving as Frank, Roo spells out her intentions to an outsider:

You can’t live as a single mum in Summer Bay. Imagine what people would say.

I won’t be single. I’ll be married. And I know just how to, as well. In fact I’ve just been to see him. And he’s a damn sight better than you.

Even if you do marry this guy everybody’s gonna know the baby’s not his.

No they’re not. Not even he’s gonna know.

Sod social responsibilities. This is Home and Away's most headily, gloriously, unashamedly soapy plot yet. And this series is on fire as a result.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 63-66


Home and Away has seen a dramatic siege… and, as a result, its first funeral. It seems fitting that such a significant event should play out in a room filled with Beryl Palmer’s old two-piece suite.

When Sam visits Sandy in hospital - where he’s put her with a severe beating - he tries the honey approach and we get a hint that he himself is the product of an abusive background:

My Dad, he was a strict man. “Spare the rod and spoil the child” was his motto and he lived by it. But I thank him now. He was right. You bring a lot of this trouble on yourself, love. You’ve gotta calm down. Stop fighting us. When you get home you gotta try to fit in.

When that fails, we get a nicely tense, wordless scene in which Kerry kneels in their living room, tailoring a dress while Sam sits behind forcibly flicking through his newspaper and making her more nervous with each rustle. I’m slightly intrigued by the seamstress apparel in the Barlows’ lounge: the mannequin, the sewing machine, the tape measure and threads. Is it a hobby? A way to earn a few extra dollars? Or simply something done out of thrift?

Warning flags appear the next morning when Kerry collects Sandra from hospital and says they’re going to flee for a refuge - something Sandy has been begging her to do - once they’ve been home to pack their clothes. Then comes the act of betrayal: Kerry is doing Sam’s bidding and Sandra ends up locked in her room, the windows boarded up.

There’s a reasonably suspenseful scene (diluted a little by some very Eighties music) where we watch Sandra struggling to insert batteries into the two-way radio she built in order to summon help. The action cuts between this and Steven contemplating disconnecting his set. Which, naturally, he does milliseconds before she’s good to go.

But Kerry comes good, sneaking the key from under Sam's nose and passing it under Sandy’s door with a note instructing her to escape and get help.

Which leaves Kerry alone to distract Sam for as long as she can until such time as he discovers her betrayal. She's essentially made herself a human sacrifice.

Bob Barnett is in the middle of a comically awkward breakup with Celia, but in no time is kicking the Barlows’ door down to find Sam beating Kerry. Except he’s pushed by Sam who manages to get hold of his pistol.

No-one barges into my place, mate. Copper or no copper.

Clearly beyond reason, Sam forces Bob to listen to his justifications, just as he did Sandy earlier:

Didn’t your Dad ever send you to your room without any tea? Mine sure as hell did. First bit of backchat - that was it. Marched off to my room without so much as a biscuit. I’ll tell you what: taught me respect. My oath it did. But these days. Try an’ teach Sandy a bit of respect and all I get’s lies… An’ ever since she’s been with that Fletcher kid she’s been ten times worse. Oh, they’re rabble, that mob. Wouldn’t mind lettin' one of them have it if I got the chance.

And then the chance lands in his lap. Barnett has talked him down and persuaded him not to risk thirty years in prison. Sam is on the verge of handing back the gun when in walk Tom and Steven and things kick off again:

...continued
​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 63-66 (...continued)


With a captive audience, Sam continues to muse on life, the universe and everything:

Less than an hour ago I was sittin’ here, readin’ my paper, sippin’ on a quiet beer. An’ I was happy. Because Kerry, Sandy and me, we had a good night tonight. They’re my family, boy. An’ I love ‘em. Every day’s work I’ve ever done has been for those girls… An’ nobody’s gonna take ‘em away from me now.

Why did you come up here, Tom. Huh? Often puzzled over that one. Walked onto the road gang one morning and I could see at a glance: thinks he’s king of the castle, this one… You’re the sort who comes up here, stirs up trouble, cons as many people as you can then you pack up your second hand kids and you vanish.

We’re not second hand.

Strike me pink. It talks.

Still sore from being laid flat when Steven defended himself from Sam's punch an episode or two earlier, Sam pulls Steven to his feet and dares him to go for the gun, asking if Steven's foot is faster than Sam's finger.

With one of the children under threat, Tom becomes the leading man, standing between the gun and Steven, straight talking even in the face of death:

You’re a gutless wonder, Barlow… mouthing off about what a tough life you’ve had. Well let me tell you something, mate. No-one gets it easy. D’you wanna know why I moved up here? I got retrenched. I had to feed a wife and five kids with not a cent coming in. And you wanna tell me what a tough life you’ve had? Ah, ya whinger. And all this stuff about love, eh? All you love is being boss. You don’t love Kerry. Or Sandy. And they don’t love you. In fact if the truth be known, they hate you… That is why you’ve always had to fight to keep ‘em… That is why you’re gonna lose them. Well, come on. What are ya gonna do? Ya gonna shoot me? Eh?

It’s perhaps the least convincing moment of the siege for me because it feels a little like an ego trip for Tom. Or Roger Oakley. Or both. Tom’s a convincing everyman. But this isn’t what everyman does. This is action hero territory. Or is it? It's an extreme situation that threatens the security of everyman. Maybe this is just what he'd do.

Jeff Truman does such an incredible job of showing the wind knocked out of Sam’s sails, and things start to feel final as he makes his last stand

Go and pack a bag. We’re pickin’ up Sandy and gettin’ out of here. I said go and pack a bag, woman.

No Sam. Not anymore.

It's a still moment. One of defeat for Sam and quiet heroism from Kerry who has finally chosen to speak out against him. As with the earlier scene in which Sam was taken down with Bob's words, the pivotal moment is disturbed by two more arrivals:

I hate you.

Poor Sam. The two women for whom he says he’s given blood, sweat and tears both decide to rebel in the same minute. The look of sadness on Kerry's face on hearing her daughter's words is heartbreaking.

But if Sam's heart is broken he means to make Sandra pay for it.

Liddy Clark lets out an incredibly chilling sound in those last few moments before the frenzied intervention. Part whimper, part shriek, part hyperventilation. It gets me every time.

Tom grabbing the gun arm is a risky soap action hero move previously executed by Mack Mackenzie in Knots Landing’s Negotiations with catastrophic results. Tom’s version has an even more lethal outcome. But we don't know exactly how lethal because as the episode ends there's a cut, Woombai style, to the exterior. And a single shot rings out before all becomes still again.

...continued​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 63-66 (...continued)


It’s difficult not to see similarities with other soap sieges, like the one at Woombai on Sons and Daughters. Or even the mansion siege later in that series. There were even shades of Knots Landing’s Night, I thought, with this being Sam’s moment of cracking and going over the edge. In the moment, though, all comparisons went out of the window and it became a gripping episode in its own right.

Overall, the episode was effective. The Very Special Episode tone was gone and we were into mostly character-driven entertainment. There was atmosphere, tension and also some top notch performances. It may have been even more gripping without the cuts away to other - albeit related - scenes. It felt like the powers that be couldn’t quite take that risk. Perhaps for fear that the young audience’s attention would wander if a scene ran beyond five minutes. If I were being nitpicky, I could suggest it could have run for an extra half episode, but perhaps that would have gilded the lily.

The bottom line is it worked just as it was. The tone felt nicely theatrical. It was like watching a little stage play about people in crisis finding the strength to change and facing up to mortality while saying their bit. It felt like the natural climax of a storyline that had been bubbling along for over thirty episodes and brought the Barlows’ crises to a satisfyingly dramatic end.

Crucially, the direction of the scenes in the Barlow house convinced me that one man with a pistol could hold first two people (including a burly police officer), then four hostage with little trouble. Watching it, I never questioned why none of them tried to grab for the gun. Like the characters in that living room, I looked for the right moment and never quite found it.

Watching the next episode immediately after the siege was, in hindsight, a mistake. It needed time to resonate. I should have held off.

I think they could have got ten minutes of a good Falcon Crest style “who was in the coffin” mystery afterwards by keeping the siege survivors off camera for a bit while people discuss the victim without giving a name, or perhaps even flashbacks. Or as a happy medium, we could at least have got a very slow pan at the graveside, allowing us to work out which character was absent.

Instead, the name of the deceased was given in the first sentence of the first scene of the following episode at the funeral service conducted by Arnold Feather. Then we got an episode of Sandy whining about not being able to cry. There was talk of the Fletchers or Ailsa fostering her, but none of them seemed too keen, which is understandable.

In other news:

Fisher has reported Tom to the department for his role in the shooting. It's a welcome consequence of Tom's actions, even though nobody could see Fisher's point of view. Not even Celia!.

Tarquin Pearce’s replacement (and she’s mentioned as such) took the Fletchers' side when visiting Fisher:

You are a troublemaker.

I have quite a soft spot for Miss Molloy. She strikes me as the kind of chain smoking, hard drinker who might be fun to party with.

Roo’s pulled a Patricia Hamilton manipulation on Frank by speaking of a “certainty” that she’s moving heaven and earth to rectify:

I know we couldn’t get back together again. I’ve made a mess of that, haven’t I. But I just wanna say thanks for still being a friend. It means a lot to me.

The signs on the shower block at the caravan park are going to irk me. They’re meant to say “Gulls” and “Buoys”, which is a nice play on words. But they actually say “Gull’s” and “Bouy’s” which is something else entirely. Still, I suppose that Tom or Alf - or whoever made the signs - weren’t that enamoured of English lessons at school.

The block itself is playing host to Lance and Martin’s “perv hole” plot, more Sid and Bernie than Norman Bates. It’s had a couple of predictable “comic” moments (muscly man wanders in while they’re lusting after the woman showering through the perv hole, joyfully accepts their invitation to take a peek then realises they’re looking at his girlfriend). But I’m more excited because I know this is leading up to Deirdre Thurlow: a two-episode character that I fondly remember as a Charlie Bartlett clone. She may turn out to be dire, but what the heck.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 67-70

She’s got him completely conned.

How come he can’t see through it?

The word starts with “S” and ends with “X”.

Roo’s got Frank exactly where she wants him. They’re having sneaky sex as often as they can. Frank’s got the guilts, but Roo - desperate to find a father for her baby - is pushing it.

I know we’ve both been trying since I’ve been back, but it’s not like it was before and I want it to be… I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you. I promise. Dad’s not gonna be home for ages. We’ve got the place to ourselves.

A bonus for Roo is that it’s winding up her nemesis:

You don’t love him. So why don’t you just leave him alone. He’s too good for you anyway.

You’re jealous. You are. You’re actually jealous. Well who woulda thought. The dropout kid’s in love with my boyfriend. Pathetic really. ‘Cause if he knew, d’you know what he’d do. He’d laugh himself silly.

In dafter storylines, Floss considered selling the wagon in the hope their son might allow them to see Ben. Enter stranded interior designer Deirdre Thurlow.

Darling, tell me that there’s room at the inn and I shall drop dead on the spot. Deirdre Thurlow. Enchante… Trapped by mechanical failure in the back of beyond… Oh my God. How do you people live here. I mean, it’s charming, but it certainly puts the word “back” into backwater.

I think your little wagon is absolutely dinky, darling. Fate led me to it… What a hoot. I mean the gang will just adore coming here weekends. Back to your basics in your camp little home on wheels.

Floss’s decision irritates Neville no end. And so does Deirdre:

(imitating Deirdre) Daaarliiiinngs. It’s sooo camp. Gaah. In my day camp was something you did with tents.

There are so many layers to this line. Especially since Nev is one of the camper characters on the show.

Long story short, Floss sees the light on hearing Deirdre run down the town and its residents…

The deal’s off. I think Summer Bay can do without a stuck up snob like you Mrs Thurlow.

It’s your basic b-story. But enjoyable nonetheless. Perhaps helped by nostalgia.

Steven and Sandra’s date was quite sweet. They captured that feeling of ordering in a nice restaurant for the first time. And now Sandra’s left - driven away by two extras playing her new foster parents while Steve watched from afar after promising to stay away. It was surprisingly touching.

We’ve seen an enjoyably devious side to Celia when she caught Carly shoplifting brandy and blackmailed her into auditioning for The Mikado on pain of Alf finding out.

Andrew Foley - Australia’s answer to Bernard Hedges - is on the scene. And so is bullying PE teacherJeff Samuels, whom Floss sums up in a sentence:

’Andsome fella in an ugly sorta way.

Starting with Episode 67, some of the episodes have previews of the next episode, complete with dramatic voiceover. It’s interesting to have them for completion, but they’re full of spoilers and so the novelty quickly wore off.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episode 71


Home and Away’s first MTV moment - the use of a one-time chart single playing over and complementing an on-screen montage - took place in Episode 71. For a series which, to the uninitiated, could be viewed as teen-orientated and sunny, the song in question might be a surprising one: folk group Redgum’s I Was Only 19.

We might have expected the theme of this montage to be love, loss, relationships or grief. And indeed we get all four, and so much more. All centred around an equally unexpected theme: Anzac Day.

It's understating to say it pulled the emotional rug from under me with its beauty and emotional potency.

The montage in question runs for over four minutes… the entire length of the song, which is also known as A Walk In The Light Green. For almost the entire song, no dialogue or sound is audible. We see Fisher and Tom getting dressed in in their respective rooms. Fisher, in his army regalia, medals gleaming on his chest, admires himself in the mirror. Veteran Tom dresses in a simple grey suit and dark tie. Both are readying themselves for the Anzac Day service. They’ve already had a tense conversation on the subject, with Donald unaware of Tom’s service in Vietnam:

Anzac Day is very important to me. I lead the cadet corps at the dawn service. It’s a wonderful celebration.

Celebration? What of? War? You can honour the soldiers, but war’s not something to be celebrated.

A pacifist, I take it.

Yeah. In a sense.

Yes. I’m sure. I suppose you walked in all those peace marches. Wrote letters of protest. The Woodstock generation mentality. Sit back with your peace badges and let the enemy walk all over you.

Next in the montage we see a close-up of a ring box opening. Seated at her dressing table - note the theme of reflection in the first half of this montage - Celia looks thoughtfully at the engagement ring and its red stone, then places it onto her ring finger. Then she picks up a framed photo of a young man in uniform and clutches it to her chest. Ailsa has already filled us in on some of the story, and Celia had a conversation with Ailsa about her fiancee just a few episodes ago:

He’s been on my mind a great deal lately. He died in Vietnam. I sometimes get a little distressed on Anzac Day. He gave his life for his country, so it’s when I feel closest to him.

These earlier snippets of conversation inform how the scene is viewed. The background, the imagery and the music make it a very poignant moment. Indeed, this is the episode in which Celia has emerged as one of the series’ richest and most complex characters, and taken a left turn from tickling our funny bones to tugging earnestly at our heartstrings. Fiona Spence's moving performance alone has made this single episode a contender for my favourite of the entire rewatch to date.

Then we go to the service. The cast (and some townspeople extras) gather at a windblown cenotaph, surrounded by woodland. Each looks reflective as we watch Walt Bertram lead the service (without hearing what he is saying) and see Neville play a silent Reveille on his bugle (he was a bugler in the army, we’ve learnt. And there’s been a running gag about him disturbing the peace while practicing). Floss looks at him with quiet pride and I find myself wondering how these actors can say so much with just the smallest of expressions and no words at all.

There are some cuts to younger cast members. Bobby lying on the bed, having presumably chosen not to attend (the only imagery that’s not directly connected to Anzac Day). Sally looks round at the service, probably not fully understanding what it’s all about but looking equally thoughtful. There’s also a presumably deliberate placement to drive home some of the lyrics. During the lyrics “Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon. God help me. He was going home in June”, we’re given a close up of Frank.

Fisher looks behind him to see Tom deep in thought, and becomes reflective himself. Celia looks shaken and upset during the service, while Alf stands beside her, stoical and still and unable to reach out despite seeing her pain.

A little audio comes in towards the end, and we can just make out Walter Bertram conclude:

At the going down of the sun. And in the morning. We will remember them.

Celia cries. And Tom looks down with concern at Danny King in his wheelchair.

It’s quite incredible for a soap opera, particularly one still so early in its lifespan, to give us what is essentially a four minute music video that pays respectful tribute to fallen soldiers without being tacky. At the same time, it captures the stories and backstories of each character in attendance. Paradoxically, by taking this pause, the action has moved forward. By saying nothing, the characters have spoken to us as they never have before. Over thirty years on, it’s engrossing, absorbing, subjective, powerful and beautiful. I’m fascinated by this choice, because it’s quite unlike anything I’ve seen in soap before or since.

More than any other character, Danny King - Pippa’s brother and one of Tom’s closest friends - embodies Remembrance. His appearance has stirred up memories for many characters… most of them unpleasant ones. Even young Sally has said that she hates his visits. After such a build-up it’s surprising to everyone that he’s shown to be amiable and smiling.

You said he was a downer.

Yeah. Well he’s not usually like this.

He’s said to Tom this Anzac Day will be different. And while it’s not yet been made clear what is meant by this, he wasn’t smiling then.

​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 72-83

I was a few years younger. He liked to boss me around. [He was] athletic. Good at everything. He was a really top class cricketer. My parents thought he was wonderful… I never shone like Danny did. My parents did their best to love me anyway.

Danny King has taken over the Barlow family’s mantle of embodying the darker emotional ranges in Summer Bay. And his presence is bringing up ghosts for almost everyone with whom he crosses paths. He takes no prisoners in his dealings, and if someone gets on his nerves - such as when Celia Stewart encroached into the men only Anzac Day drinkathon, determined to befriend him - he has brutal ways of letting them know:

Here’s a story that might interest you, Miss Stewart. It’s about the war… My platoon was on patrol… Pretty routine stuff. And we were walkin’ through this paddy field, and this young bloke put his foot on a mine… You see, a mine won’t go off until you take your foot off. Release the pressure, you with me? Anyway, the young bloke just stood there an’ he froze, like a rabbit does in a spotlight. We tried to figure out some way to hold the catch down while he slid his foot off… But it was like the young bloke couldn’t hear what was being said to him. He just stood there with this strange look on his face. Not listening. Not responding. An’ then, quite casually he just took his foot off. Just took it off… He got blown to bits. It was as if he wanted to die.

The only redeeming fact for Danny here was that he hadn’t realised Celia’s fiancé, Les was killed by a mine in Vietnam. The experience prompts her to tearfully open up to Ailsa:

We would have been married the following autumn. At Easter. I always wanted to be an Easter bride.

It was going to be his last tour of duty, and we were going to buy that little wooden house that looked out over the bay… It’s all run down now… It was beautiful then. Three bedrooms. Plenty of room for children. He was such a good man. A very good man. The night before he left, he wanted to make love to me… I think he thought it might be the only time. And I said no… I didn’t think we should… Not if I wasn’t married. I often wish, if I could just have that night back. Just that one night.

That’s my engagement ring. I keep it in a drawer all year. But on Anzac Day I take it out and I wear it. Just for the day.

It’s one of Celia’s most memorable and beautiful scenes and, as with the previous episode, heartening to see a different side to her.

A different side for Pippa, too, emerges when Danny plays his hand:

It’s you I really came to see… I’ve had it, Pip. I can’t make it… I’m gonna ask you a favour. The biggest favour there is. I’m too much of a coward to do it myself. But you were a nurse. You know the right stuff. You could get access to it… Just an injection of something an’ it’d all be over. All the pain. All the endless black thoughts… I don’t wanna go on livin’ anymore… Don’t let me down, Pip, please.

When she refuses, he goes further:

I was just hoping you could do something that would make it easy. Painless for me. I’ll just have to see what I can do off my own back now, won’t I?

Danny drives the point home by disappearing when he was last seen on Stewart’s Point - the first of many mentions of and visits to the landmark for this series, I believe - leaving only his wheelchair to be found in the waves below. But Pippa still won’t have it:

This is just like all those games you used to play when we were kids. Throw a turn, get your own way and damn anyone else who gets hurt by it… You haven’t got the guts to kill yourself… You came down here for Anzac Day and got into one of your legendary depressive spirals. Don’t imagine I’m going to waste emotional energy on treating it seriously.

Pippa keeps the secret from Tom, even after Danny leaves town, and the strain shows on their marriage, with Sally concerned enough to try to pair Pippa up with Lance and Tom with her teacher so they won’t be lonely. Then word reaches the Fletchers that Danny has attempted suicide:

So much for your judgement. I hope they never put you on a crisis hotline.

Danny’s suicide attempt also becomes a hot topic for the kids:

I wonder how many pills he took.

Not enough by the sound of it.

Well how much d’you need?

Hmm. About a bottle. I guess that’d do it.

Well they need time to get into the bloodstream. Otherwise they just pump the stomach out.

Well maybe he didn’t take enough on purpose. He was probably just after a bit of attention.

Was he pretending, was he?

We do get the obligatory “don’t try this at home kids”, but it’s done via the slightly edgy route of Floss trying to explain suicide to an eight year old:

Suicide isn’t a game, and you shouldn’t make it one… It’s very sad, and people only do it when somethin’ real bad’s happened to ‘em… Look, most of the time it’s a bit like catchin’ a cold. You feel real sick for a while. Then you get a bit better ’n’ you can go back to doin’ things. But people like Danny never get over it. I s’pose, ‘cause they stop believin’ things’ll get better. They just feel sick inside. All the time.

Danny’s story has shown us a little more to Jeff Samuels than we’ve seen to this point. So far he's been shown to be a bully, who categorises non sporty kids as "ponces" and "fairies". He’s in the process of training Steven and at first reacts to the news about Danny in a characteristically unsympathetic way:

You don’t even think about him. If he’s suicidal he’s a big time loser, Steve… We just don’t want ya picking up those sorta vibes… Because if you’re gonna make it, what’s it gonna take?

Mind over matter.

Which means…?

I don’t mind and they don’t matter.

But then he realises that Steven is talking about THE Danny King and his tone changes dramatically:

You signed my bat for me once. It was the game against W.A. We hit a hundred and nine before lunch. I’ve still got it at home. I was only seven years old. But that was a fantastic knock. An’ you still see the replays on TV sometimes… Mate, I don’t know what’s happened to you, but you’re not a quitter… I mean you’ve to what it takes. You’ve got the will to win. The attack. When did you go to Vietnam?

The week after.

Long story short, Jeff persuades Danny to speak to the school cricket team and all’s well that ends well. Which somehow feels a little unsatisfying and almost unfitting. But John Clayton is intense, memorable and engaging in his brief stint as Danny. It's a shame this is all we saw of him.

continued...​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 72-83 ...continued



While Danny’s hospitalisation introduced us to Pippa’s parents, Coral and Bert, Alf’s nameless parents are keeping a low profile. But we do get what I think is the first clue that they’re still around:

It’s an engagement present from Mum and Dad. Y’know I thought their boat was in Bermuda but this card’s from Rio. I must be a bit behind.

I must admit I was surprised. This passed me by before and I’ve always assumed the elder Stewarts were dead.

In a roundabout way, the innocuous engagement present is our entree to some serious scheming from Roo. When Alf leaves to open the present with Ailsa (two of the world’s loudest Bermuda shirts, in case you’re wondering), Roo offers to cook dinner:

Would ya? About six thirty. But I’ll be back at six to give you a hand.

You sure? Six o’clock?

Absolutely… See you at six.

Cue some deliberately crossed wires, courtesy of Roo:

Frank? …Dad’s not gonna be home till seven o’clock tonight. I was wondering if you wanted to come over.

Naturally, Alf discovers Roo cooking up a storm with Frank in the bedroom, with Roo doing all she can to make sure Frank can’t cover up. And it’s Frank that cops it:

You know what you are, Frank? You’re a no-hoper… Before I gave you that job at the shop how long had you been out of work? …I gave you a fair go when nobody else would. I trusted you… Go on. Get out. That goes for the shop, too… You’re fired.

Alf and Ailsa become the second solid couple to hit problems when Ailsa disagrees with Alf’s decision and hires Frank to work in the shop. Suffice to say, the engagement’s off.

There's more trouble for Roo during one of her regular altercations with Bobby:

Excuse me?

Oh, “excuse me”. Who do you think you are? Lady Di? You might have your old man an’ Frank conned. But not me… You’re a selfish slag.

I’m a slag? Look who’s talking. The only guys you ever went out with never even stopped to ask your name. I think you’re jealous… ‘cause Frank’s mine… You’ve really got the hots for him.

(punches Roo in the stomach) Excuse me.

Having a pregnant young woman punched in the stomach still seems slightly horrific - I couldn’t imagine this scenario in an American soap. It’s bad taste, but plays out in such a matter of fact way that it softens the blow, so to speak. Key to pulling off this scene is that only Roo and the audience knows that she’s carrying a baby. It’s not the first time Bobby and Roo have come to blows. They’re still fighting like they probably did in primary school.

The lack of knowledge of other characters further isolates Roo. We’ve already seen her deal with the news of her pregnancy alone, making decisions that very few people do without support. She’s heard the way her classmates have gossiped, laughed and judged when a peer became pregnant. She’s managed a situation where she had to find a father for her baby with time of the essence. And now she’s faced with the prospect of losing her baby. It’s a solitary journey.

Alf gave Roo a reminder of the problems she faces after catching her with Frank:

What’d happen if someone like Frank did get ya pregnant? Where would you be then? Your whole life’d be up the spout. You know what this town’s like with unmarried mums. They’re treated like tarts. Like tramps. I’m disappointed in ya, love. But I’d hate to think of you like that.

But now Roo’s decided it’s time to ensure people find out about her pregnancy. In a twist I’d forgotten, the first person she “accidentally” lets know is Celia by putting Celia’s feather duster under her bed… with a home pregnancy kit.

This shows why Roo is probably better at this kind of deception than I would be. Whereas Alf would have hit the roof, conservative Celia is concerned with appearances and insists upon confronting Frank and demanding that he do the very thing Roo wants while at the same time joining in the conspiracy to hide the pregnancy from even Alf:

Let’s take one thing at a time. Ruth, you’ll have to continue seeing your doctor out of town. Then, soon after the wedding you can announce it as a blessed event. Instead of having the finger of shame pointed at you. You’ve both got the responsibility of a child now…(to Frank) And you’ll need a full-time job for a start. There’ll be no more gallivanting around the town. You’ll have to save.

And just like that, Roo’s got her husband.

He has to deal with a prospective father-in-law, of course, and gets launched from Alf’s house for even mentioning marriage. But that’s when having Celia on side pays off, because Roo knows her dogged Aunt would succeed where Frank failed, and Alf agrees to discuss Roo and Frank becoming more serious.

Then Tom and Pippa’s parental intuition kicks in and the pregnancy is out in the open anyway. It’s slightly mind-boggling how quickly this has all moved. The scene in which Tom, Pippa, Frank and Roo tell Alf of Roo’s pregnancy is in stark contrast to the one in which he exploded at Frank earlier in the same episode. Ray Meagher goes quiet and it’s more unsettling in its intensity than his previous blow ups. And so feels more gravely important.

Previously unnoticed name coincidence: I’d remembered that Roo’s (then) late Mum (and Alf’s wife) was named Martha Stewart(!), but I’d forgotten that Steven’s late Mum was also named Martha. Her name was visible when Steven visited his parents’ grave on Mothers’ Day.

Mothers’ Day brought a nice bit of business for Floss and Nev, when the latter went to give his son a piece of his mind for not sending Floss a card, ending up with Scott reluctantly bringing Ben and his wife to see Floss, with the lid being kept on Neville’s role in things. A little secret is always good for adding a dimension to these relationships.

And in among all these happenings, there are still some enjoyably silly one-liners:

I hope that’s not for me. I asked for silverside.

Oh sorry. Somehow whenever I look at you I think of ham.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 84-86

You said I’d end up killing one of them. Well it looks like it’s gonna be the baby.

Harking back to the Pilot and the threat that hung in the air for the opening episodes of the series, Floss’s prediction that Bobby will cause the death of one of the Fletchers has returned with a vengeance. Even better, it’s facilitated other significant events in Summer Bay.

The tarot card reading has been mentioned little - if at all - in the past three months’ worth of episodes. Bobby’s settled in. Nobody’s been under threat of death-by-Bobby since Carly’s near drowning in the first two episodes. In fact, now I think about it, the series may have missed a trick by not having Bobby present at the Barlow siege, or at least saying something that sent Tom and Steven over to investigate, which would have added further threat. But maybe that situation was seen to be perilous enough and any devices could have detracted from rather than added to it.

With all recent focus being of Roo’s soapy pregnancy, one could almost forget that Pippa’s also carrying. So for a millisecond, Bobby riding the bike at great speed towards Pippa seemed slightly less significant than it actually was. But by the time they collided the significance wasn’t lost on me.

After a little cliffhanger, all was well with the baby. But the can was open and Bobby and Floss are both panicked by the reminder. Floss is concerned enough to break her self-imposed tarot boycott, and even more panicked by what she sees:

The chances of this happenin’ are, oh, a million to one against… It’s exactly the same readin’. The same cards. I’m terrified, Nev…. Because as sure as eggs, Bobby is gonna cause one of ‘em to die. An’ there’s nothin’ anyone can do about it.

As in earlier mentions, I love how truthfully this is played by all concerned. It’s not a comic moment. There’s no spooky music. On paper it sounds slightly ridiculous. but it’s played out in the same way as any other storyline. Bobby’s scepticism turning to concern has allowed the most sceptical of viewers to take the same journey. And all of us have to wait to see how fate works.

For anyone interested, cards drawn by Floss for this reading included: Page Of Swords; Three Of Pentacles; The Devil; The Tower; The Chariot; Death. The latter two being perhaps the most obviously significant to laymen such as me who don’t know what each card represents. Though I’m sure I’ve heard somewhere (probably on another soap) that Death isn’t actually what it seems and can represent good things.

Bobby, meanwhile, is bothered enough by the near miss to pack up and leave Summer Bay House, hiding out at Ailsa’s flat, where she makes a confession:

I love him, Ailsa. I’ve gotta leave town because I love him… When I heard Frank and Roo were getting married it was like some bloke had taken this great big hammer and whacked me in the guts. It was bad enough when he was just going around with her.

And this is where Floss’s Pilot prediction moves forward other ongoing stories that have been unconnected so far. Determined to stop Bobby from leaving town, Ailsa makes enquiries with Miss Molloy:

What would you have to do to become a foster parent? …Someone like me. I’d do anything to keep her here.

But then Miss Molloy mentions that someone with a criminal record is unlikely to be considered, and so they leave Fisher’s office where the discussion began and the two women talk at a harbourside cafe over glasses of wine (a choice that I find interesting. It gives an “off the record” vibe, but also shows how sympathetic and human Miss Molloy is, despite being the new embodiment of The System). And it’s here that a seed is not only planted but hastily germinates and blooms:

I squared the slate. I paid the price. Even the courts admitted to extenuating circumstances… It seems crazy to knock it on the head because of something that happened so many years ago.

If you were married… As a sole foster parent, everything that you are and everything that you have been comes under the microscope. It has to. It’s the main influence on the child. As a husband and wife team that influence is shared. One partner’s past isn’t so crucial.

Ailsa quickly suggests most strongly that she and Alf are still engaged, explaining away her returned ring by simply saying Alf isn’t one for sentiment and she doubted she’d get one. She also shares a little snippet that I’m not sure we knew before:

Oh, Alf’s just a big softie underneath it all. We’ve known each other for nearly a year now. He was my first customer when I took over the shop.

Not one to let the grass grow, Ailsa wanders into Alf's bait shop and gets straight down to brass tacks:

Look, Alf. There’s only one thing stopping us getting back together again and it’s called pride. We’re both so damned worried about our differences. We love each other. Why don’t we just cross the bridges when we come to them? Let’s get married, what do ya say?

Alf’s responding smile says it all, and after Ailsa takes the day off, their next scene together sees them arriving back at the Stewart house:

What’s up? Where have you been all day?

Well, I s’pose we’d better tell ‘em, eh, Ailse?

Fire away.

Have a read.

Oh my goodness.

It’s a marriage certificate.

Yeah, that’s right. It’s ours. Meet the new Mrs Alf Stewart.

It’s very Laura Avery of Ailsa to marry her stubborn mule offscreen and suddenly. And sudden it was. From first asking Miss Molloy about how to foster to returning as Mrs Stewart took ten minutes of screen time. Half an episode.

It’s so soapy. The marriage is starting with a secret agenda that will only cause problems for everyone. And it all came about because of Floss’s prediction!

All of this has meant Roo and Frank’s story has taken something of a back seat for a couple of episodes. But Donald’s reaction - and Alf’s response to Donald’s reaction - proved very enjoyable:

But they’re just a couple of kids. Oh. I see… I’m sorry Alf… Oversexed animal. I wouldn’t blame you if you strung him up.

I bet someone said the same thing to Dad when they found out about you and Barbara… Face it Don. It was a shotgun wedding just like this one’s a shotgun wedding. And I’m just tryin’ to make the best of it the same way Dad tried to make the best of it with Barbara.

Touché, Alf.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 87-95

After almost one hundred episodes, I’m appreciating how the current stories have their roots in the opening episodes. Just as Floss’s prediction has removed Bobby from the family, driven Ailsa and Alf’s hasty reunion and marriage and is adding a dramatic undercurrent to the wedding preparations, so the reveal of The Nutter has gone back to the beginning of the series, shown to be the outcome of characters’ actions in one of the earliest episodes.

In addition to vague tarot card readings, Floss’s fatalistic predictions have been taken a step further with dramatic dreams in which she sees fragments of the future:

One of the Fletchers is gonna die. And now I know who it is, and how it’s gonna happen.

Thankfully, Floss dreams in colour, so she was able to forewarn that The Chariot in question is a blue car, whose registration number she remembers as LGU 545, and crashed by Frank who was killed. She also dreams in high definition, which is how she noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band and so the event must happen before his wedding to Roo.

Next thing you know, Frank rocks up with a blue car whose registration number is LGV 545.

This all sounds quite frankly bonkers. The story is being driven entirely by, as Steven referred to Floss in the earliest days “a paranormal phenomenon”. But it isn’t bonkers. Or if it is, it’s the best kind.

I love how Australian soaps treat this area. Sons and Daughters showed Fiona Thompson’s penchant for reading tea leaves and doing tarot cards to be almost prosaic, barely any more heightened than someone getting news over the phone or overhearing a conversation. It was simply treated as part of her character. Having this gift was essentially an extension of her intuition. A kind of visual way of showing us gut feeling.

Dynasty had a few psychics and spiritualist media bringing dire warnings and occasional good news, but such individuals were invariably “othered”: made strange and mystical. Sons and Daughters, too, gave us this presentation later in the series with visiting psychics. But that series see-sawed between kitchen sink and glossy melodrama, and these temporary characters fell into the latter. Fiona and Floss, though, are most definitely “us”. They are rounded characters who aren’t defined solely by their gift*. And in soap terms that’s a very Australian way of doing things. Even when creating melodrama it’s created in such a matter-of-fact way that I find myself simply accepting it.

*Admittedly Floss gets a lot less screen time than did Fiona, and so her talents are a larger part of her character. But Sheila Kennelly’s warm, earthy presentation counteracts any problem this may have created.


Now that it is accepted, the writing and direction can play with it and use it to create an unsettling atmosphere. Floss’s dream was the stuff of horror films. And the reveal of Frank’s car was the most subjective scene the series has yet given us. Rather than lingering on Floss’s horrified reaction we get a disorientating P.O.V. shot of walking round the car and hear Floss’s trembling voice from behind the camera. It’s as though we’ve transcendentally switched places with Floss and are trapped in her body, and therefore forced to confront her terror as her nightmare begins to play out for real. Hearing the engine chugging and then seeing it slowly revealed as it drove into view was also the stuff of Christine. There’s no doubting that this car is to be feared. So when Bobby sets fire to the car in a bid to prevent the prophecy becoming reality, it all seems logical.

Floss and Nev, by the way, have just celebrated their 39th wedding anniversary, and I’m struggling to think of any other series regulars in Aussie soap who have achieved such a milestone.

...continued​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 87-95 (...continued)



The wrapping up of The Nutter storyline, while not necessarily the most surprising, proved unexpectedly poignant and satisfying. And the Whodunnit? aspect well played in the moments leading up to the reveal.

Back in February 1989, around the time the series began in the UK, I read a sensationalist article about the series in one of the red tops. The tone of the piece was that the series was too shocking and scandalous for its 5:10 slot immediately following Children’s ITV. It summed up a number of the more controversial moments which had aired in Home and Away's first year on Australian TV with a hyperbolic sentence each (“one sixteen year old schoolgirl is raped, while another becomes pregnant to an older man”; “the local greengrocer turns out to be a murderer”). Naturally, as a teenager this article made me determined not to miss an episode. One of the plots encapsulated so briefly and hyperbolically was something like “the local headteacher turns out to be a Nutter who stalks residents of the town”.

I can’t remember exactly where I was on things as a teenage viewer based on what I'd read ahead of time. But I know at one point Donald Fisher - as acting headmaster - was my prime suspect. I’m certain at some point towards the end the real culprit was clear to me. And possibly my suspicions started out that way and shifted focus. But even with the culprit having such a distinctive voice (even when distorted during his Nutter bits), I got thrown off the scent at times.

And had I not known what I known, another suspect could easily have entered the fray in more recent episodes. Jeff Samuels is one of the series’ most unsympathetic characters. The brutally casual way he speaks about anyone he doesn’t view as a “winner” is refreshingly nasty. One recent example which could be viewed as tying into The Nutter storyline saw him take aim at Nico:

People like Nico should’ve been put down at birth.

Very few supporting characters who stick around for a while get such meaty material to work with, and Alex Peterson plays him almost too well. We’ve seen a slightly different side to him with Danny, which has served to flesh him out at least a little and make his more unpalatable moments even more frustrating.

So he comes firmly onto the radar of suspects when Pippa rings the school and recognises the voice of The Nutter, who has chosen to champion her causes and somewhat befriended her. Pippa then going straight to Samuels at the school and practically marching him to Fisher’s office gives the viewer time to wonder about her reasoning: Is Samuels The Nutter? Or does she need the support to confront Fisher? One can’t help thinking of Fisher’s threats towards Eric the dog, and his sometime animosity towards Nico and his cow.

And when Pippa announces to the assembled pair that she knows who The Nutter is and the frame freezes, the looks exchanged between the two men could be read any number of ways. Back then, I suspect I may have worked out who the culprit was from empirical evidence (most notably the voice), but I have to give the writers credit for giving it all they have to play with the audience’s expectations. To long term viewers, the next episode’s proper reveal would be impossible to resist.

Even though the next scene moves things forwards, it takes a while for the truth to be clear. Donald goes to Walt Bertram in a classroom to discuss it. Bertram, too has been acting strangely at times. But he’s also been very supportive to his students, and it’s due process that Donald would need to speak to the head:

Something pretty urgent’s come up… It, uh, seems we may have a problem with a member of staff… It’s to do with some of the things that have been happening around Summer Bay recently. Things attributed to the so-called Nutter. Seems he’s closer to home than we thought.

Connected to the school, you mean? What steps have you taken? Have you contacted the police?

I thought it might look better if the person responsible took it upon himself to own up.

It is you, isn’t it?

And just like that, in the quiet of an almost empty classroom, The Nutter’s identity is exposed.

The ongoing storyline hasn’t been the most compelling the series has given us, and there have been a few misfires, but there is lots to admire about it: the dark mystery of the small town falls somewhere between Peyton Place and Desperate Housewives with a hint of Prom Night; the suspects (even those unspoken) were credible ones; there have been some creepy scenes (Pippa’s night-time conversation with The Nutter, hidden behind some foliage springs to mind).

Most importantly, with hindsight, there’s a sense of careful plotting. The Nutter has been hiding in plain sight, inconspicuous enough not to draw too much attention, but visible enough that there’s no danger of cheating on the writers’ part.

What’s more, the reasons for his actions all make perfect sense. We saw his avunicularity and compassion before his accident and we witnessed the mood changes on his return to work. Even better, the mental impairment he suffered was a direct result of Bobby and Carly’s prank-gone-wrong in Episode Three, in which Carly released the handbrake on Martin’s ute only for it to crash into Walter’s car.

So it all goes back to the beginning. And Carly created a monster.

But like any great screen monster, Walter is a sad, broken and misunderstood creature. His two post-reveal scenes were both wonderfully played by Owen Weingott. The pain evident behind his eyes. As he speaks to Donald, he has a thousand yard stare, almost as though he is begging to be put out of his misery. Or as though he’s speaking about someone else entirely:

The bones mended wonderfully. But the headaches. There seemed to be no answer. You’d think modern medicine would have all the answers, wouldn’t you? Cures? …The Fletchers’ dog. It’s barking nearly drove me out of my mind. Every decibel seemed magnified ten times… In those moments when I had some relief from the pain I thought of the terrible things I’d done. Poor Nico. His cow. Oh, I’m so ashamed. But I had no choice. Every time I saw Nico he seemed to be laughing at me like some hideous grotesque clown… I knew I was going mad and… he represented everything I feared I would become.

In addition to Owen Weingott, it’s a great moment for Norman Coburn's Donald. I always like seeing Fisher display such empathy and compassion. In many ways he’s as misunderstood as Walter.

Owen also had some lovely moments with Vanessa Downing and somehow his connection with her played into the foster mother role. She could see the good in The Nutter even before she knew his true identity.

I feel like I know this first year inside out, but evidently not. I’d forgotten that Nico returned at this point, so it’s been a nice surprise. And Walter asking Pippa to take the reward money for turning him in, and use it to buy Nico a calf, with the rest going to his mother was a sweet denouement.

There was also a nice touch of continuity when Tom spoke about ringing the Pappas's next-door neighbour to check he’d arrived home. It was established in his original run that they don’t have a phone, but it’s the kind of detail that’s easily forgotten as things get busier.

continued...​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 87-95 (...continued)



In other news, Ginny Doyle ruined Carly’s night by showing up as Andrew Foley’s girlfriend who recognised Carly’s crush. This prompted Carly to tearfully confess her love for him in a great mascara-running scene. As a result, he’s been shunned out of town… for now.

Ailsa has officially moved into Alf’s place:

It’s not every day you make room for someone else in your life.

Especially when she comes fully furnished.

And they’re now fostering Bobby. Red tape hasn’t reached Summer Bay yet, apparently. The uncomfortable breakfasts with Alf, Ailsa, Bobby and Roo are a treat, though, so I’ll let them off.

Ailsa’s also reflected on the ulterior motive behind her marriage to Alf:

If anything, you did me a favour Bobby. I was having a few doubts about losing my independence, all that. When you said you were clearing out I had to do something. But it wasn’t just that. I love Alf. I love you. So I took the plunge and, reckon it was the best thing I ever did.

So all’s well that ends well.


The tweaked title sequence has debuted. Fisher, Celia, Roo, Matt, Lance and Martin are now present and correct. But someone didn’t get the memo, as some of them are still appearing at the end as well. In accordance with his new contract, Matt has stopped giving Carly a hard time over Fisher.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 96-103

The arrival of the wicked sister. A woman who brings doom to Summer Bay.

So went the spoiler-filled preview for the episode featuring Cornelia Frances’s debut as the oft-mentioned-but-previously-unseen Morag.

Fortunately, these unnecessary previews weren’t part of my viewing experience thirty years ago (and I choose to skip them now other than, as in this case, the occasional curious peek). So I was able to discover Morag for myself rather than watch with a one-dimensional soundbite resonating.

Characters’ truths are a different story, though. And Alf presented a less hyperbolic summary of Morag an episode before she arrived:

Morag’s got this habit of just barging in and taking over things.

Indeed, months before appearing onscreen it was Morag who outed Ailsa as a murderer. In a nice touch, Alf and Ailsa had a brief conversation about it ahead of Morag’s visit, and Ailsa said she was willing to move past it if Morag was.

Once she did arrive, Morag made it passive-aggressively plain that she had no intention of giving Ailsa an easy ride, fixing her with her most stony glare as introductions were made:

Hello. I’m Ailsa.

Hello.

Face to face at last.

Yes.

Not that Ailsa is alone. Morag’s snobbery, control and bullying have been the hallmarks of almost every scene of hers so far. Very few people in Summer Bay have escaped her cutting observations:

On Frank:

He’s a small town boy with no future.

On Lance and Martin:

The mentality of some people never ceases to amaze me. Those two couldn’t even spell “IQ”. They are walking proof of why I left Summer Bay in the first place.

On her relatives:

We must rearrange the seating plans for the wedding. I couldn’t possibly sit with that tedious family you’ve put me next to.

We happen to be related to them. They’re your first cousins.

Celia; if you go back far enough we’re all related to monkeys. Doesn’t mean I have to live in a zoo, though, does it?

Celia gets it left, right and centre from her. A fact of which she’s painfully aware:

I’m sick of the way she treats me. It’s almost as if she thinks I’m useless. Nothing more than the poor little spinster sister, whose only purpose… is to take care of Mummy and Daddy… Every time she comes back she just walks all over me… I’m tired of it, Alfred. She makes me feel like I’m a pathetic nobody.

There was also an enjoyably awkward “meet the in-laws” session at Summer Bay House, where Alf introduced his sister to the Fletchers. Adding to the fun, Ray Meagher corpsed slightly while saying “Morag Bellingham”. I’m not clear what the joke was, apart from Justine Clark not making her mark and jumping to the correct place so she wasn’t between Ray and Cornelia. But really, it just looked like the cast were having fun and there was a good energy.

While it wasn’t quite Patricia Hamilton and her bread roll tearing etiquette, there were a couple of moments in which Morag made the point that she is in every way socially superior to her hosts:

Morag, what will you have? A gin? Scotch?

Do you have any wine?

Cask.

Scotch, thank you.

Just gotta work out how to put the bow tie on.

Maybe you should have hired one that clips on. Or is that what you’ve got?

Whether or not Morag is truly “wicked”, and whether or not she “brings doom” remain to be seen. However, it’s evident from her initial episodes that she is not someone who takes prisoners. And she’s certainly mesmerising to watch.

continued...
​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 96-103 (...continued)


As you would expect from Cornelia Frances, Morag’s timing is, in dramatic terms, impeccable. As auntie of the bride, she’s not slow to work out that all’s not what it seems. And she’s not alone.

I’m one hundred percent absolutely positive it can’t be Frank’s kid. It can’t be… Before she marries Frank, everyone’s gonna know just what sort of slag Kangaroo Stewart really is.

Bobby living with the Stewarts at this particular point in time is mining dramatic gold. The penny dropped for Bobby when she was present for the baby’s first kick. Celia, also present, pointed out that it couldn’t be a kick as she wasn’t far enough along. And the look on Bobby’s face was dynamite.

We watch Bobby doing her research. Reading a book - Everywoman - which confirms that babies usually kick after three months. Then she confirms when Roo returned (Easter) and checks through her school diary (full of scrawled doodles and statements about “Flathead”) to see how many weeks it’s been (not enough). I like the continuity that the Dance was entered in Bobby’s diary for Easter. She also sounds out Frank who helpfully confirms that he and Roo never had sex before she left for the city.

Bobby plays her hand too soon and tells Roo she’s onto her, prompting Roo to pull a Patricia Hamilton and tell Frank a distorted version of the truth. And nice, gullible Frank falls for it.

I don’t wanna get married unless you really believe the baby’s yours. Do you?

Meanwhile, her impending nuptials haven’t cooled things with Roo’s wicked stepmother:

Bet you’re in on it, aren’t you? Bobby’s last ditch effort to stop the wedding.

I’m worried for Bobby.

You ought to be.

Bobby, though, breaks into Roo’s locker, gets Brett’s details and goes to confront him. He’s been ill with mumps, but isn’t interested in helping her. A day or so later, though, when he shows up in Summer Bay after a doctor’s appointment, and tracks down Roo, he feels differently about things:

If you get mumps as an adult it can have serious side effects. I’ve just found out it’s made me sterile… You’re carrying the only child I’ll ever be able to have.

You tell Frank or anyone up here and there won’t be a baby.

You’ve actually become serious about this bloke.

I’ll let you have the baby. I don’t know when. Later on, somehow. We’ll work it out. All I’m interested in is keeping Frank.

After making some enquiries of her own, Morag comes to visit Brett at his motel. He’s a family friend, and she’d apparently introduced him to Roo thinking he’d make a good catch for her.

Knowing she’s a high court judge, Brett assumes she’s come to look over paperwork for a paternity agreement he’s asked Roo to sign. An assumption Morag is happy to go along with in order to get the full picture:

I’ve only been given Ruth’s version of the facts. I need to hear your account before I can provide a balanced counsel… From the beginning, if you don’t mind.

Gerry Sont as Brett reminds me a great deal of Return To Eden’s Daniel Aberini. Both characters are very good looking in an entitled “up themselves” sort of way. Both actors have a slightly wooden “model turned actor” vibe which is entirely forgivable when they favour the camera with a smile.

Episode 101 began with a large-scale wedding fake out, where we saw Frank standing at the altar and marrying his bride only to lift the veil to reveal… Bobby. Naturally, this was a dream sequence. Even though the viewer was aware of the tease even as it happened, it was so welcome I can’t imagine anyone viewing it with anything other than enjoyment.

More wedding dress fun in a Cinderella-type scene where Bobby attacked Roo’s wedding dress with tailoring scissors, alienating her from most of the Stewarts and Frank. Roo is delighted about this, and Morag is happy that she can now buy Roo a designer dress in the city to replace the one Celia had spent weeks making.

Morag isn’t the only member of the Stewart family to have arrived on screen recently. We’ve also met Barbara during a phone call to Donald. She hasn’t yet directly interacted onscreen with anyone else, but it looks promising. At risk of being shallow, she’s a lot prettier than I remember.

Meanwhile, the usually restrained Steven and Lynn have had nice little pieces of dialogue coming out of their storylines with Samuels and Nico respectfully. Samuels is making Steven’s school life hell after the latter quits the Power Pack. Pushed to the edge, Steven decides to play him at his own game:

I could let it get to me and end up being expelled. And after sleeping on it, I think that’s what I’ll do. But if I have to go, I’ll go in a blaze of glory. So the next time you pick on me, I’m gonna walk up to you in assembly in front of the whole school and I’m gonna lay you out cold. Because you know I can do it. Sure, I’ll get expelled. But it’ll be worth it just to see the look on your face. And hear the rest of the school cheering me on. An’ I know the way you think. When someone like you loses face they never get it back again. So, wanna risk it. Sir?

Are you threatening me, boy?

Yes sir. I believe that is the correct definition.

Meanwhile, the Fletchers take Nico’s new calf to his grandmother’s farm, then convince Nico she’s strayed there. This is all done to force him to move back to be with her and out of their way, Lynn rightfully points out their manipulation:

Nico doesn’t have much going for him. At least we should leave him with his dignity. We’re his friends and we treated him like some stupid retard. Tricking him into doing what we wanted him to. We weren’t thinking of him. We were thinking of ourselves. Making him jump through hoops to get our own way. Where’s the dignity in that?

Ironically, while bull headed Samuels takes Steven’s point and lays off him, sweet little Pippa continues to protest that the end justifies the means.

 

[James from London]

Episodes 63-66 (...continued)


With a captive audience, Sam continues to muse on life, the universe and everything:

Still sore from being laid flat when Steven defended himself from Sam's punch an episode or two earlier, Sam pulls Steven to his feet and dares him to go for the gun, asking if Steven's foot is faster than Sam's finger.

With one of the children under threat, Tom becomes the leading man, standing between the gun and Steven, straight talking even in the face of death:

It’s perhaps the least convincing moment of the siege for me because it feels a little like an ego trip for Tom. Or Roger Oakley. Or both. Tom’s a convincing everyman. But this isn’t what everyman does. This is action hero territory. Or is it? It's an extreme situation that threatens the security of everyman. Maybe this is just what he'd do.

Jeff Truman does such an incredible job of showing the wind knocked out of Sam’s sails, and things start to feel final as he makes his last stand

It's a still moment. One of defeat for Sam and quiet heroism from Kerry who has finally chosen to speak out against him. As with the earlier scene in which Sam was taken down with Bob's words, the pivotal moment is disturbed by two more arrivals:

Poor Sam. The two women for whom he says he’s given blood, sweat and tears both decide to rebel in the same minute. The look of sadness on Kerry's face on hearing her daughter's words is heartbreaking.

But if Sam's heart is broken he means to make Sandra pay for it.

Liddy Clark lets out an incredibly chilling sound in those last few moments before the frenzied intervention. Part whimper, part shriek, part hyperventilation. It gets me every time.

Tom grabbing the gun arm is a risky soap action hero move previously executed by Mack Mackenzie in Knots Landing’s Negotiations with catastrophic results. Tom’s version has an even more lethal outcome. But we don't know exactly how lethal because as the episode ends there's a cut, Woombai style, to the exterior. And a single shot rings out before all becomes still again.

...continued​

I'm gripped!

 

[Spells & Karma]

I'm gripped!

Then my work is almost done. And you're welcome.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episode 104


The most important twenty two and a half minutes in the series to date is full of twists, bombshells, drama and stunts. Of season finale proportions.

But this isn’t the main reason for its importance.

Those events and situations are almost a byproduct of a tightly woven skein which is ultimately about truth, confession and - perhaps - redemption.

It’s no coincidence that the prose for this key episode is written by Bevan Lee. He wrote the Pilot episode. And the run of episodes including Pippa’s pregnancy announcement and Alf popping the question to Ailsa (twice). He introduced us to Kerry Barlow. Scripted Roo’s seduction of Frank. And he was the writer when Roo got that first phone call from Morag about Ailsa’s background. This is a man who knows these characters inside out.

Importantly, after two fun episodes of snide comments, smug superiority and arch snooping, Morag suddenly springs to life here as a rich, powerful character. There is a substance to what she says. With unspoken words between the lines that give the impression of a living, breathing character. Her motives aren’t fully clear to us at this point, but there are clues to anyone who cares to look.

The episode may feature Frank and Roo’s wedding day, but there are two key players in this episode: and Frank isn’t one of them.

The main relationship of the episode - that between Roo and her aunt - is just fascinating. To Morag, Roo seems to represent a protege. Or a younger self. Someone she can guide and shape. Someone, perhaps, who can learn from Morag’s mistakes:

How did you feel on your wedding day?

Huh! Foolishly optimistic in the light of subsequent events.

While to Roo, Morag is someone to look up to, but someone who represents both temptation and salvation. One who would collude, but not without pricking Roo’s conscience. There’s a tenseness there, almost as though each is planning their next move. And Roo is soon to learn she hasn’t fully mastered the art in which Morag is so skilled.

I want to tell you a story… The one about the young girl who was sent away to boarding school by her father because she was playing up. And how she lost her virginity, to get back at him I suspect… This young girl hadn’t paid enough attention to what she knew about precautions. So she conceived. And the father of the child had no intention of marrying her. So what could she do? She couldn’t go through with a termination… So she devised a plan. She would trap the one boy that she felt anything for into marrying her. She didn’t love him, but she cared for him.

I love him now. I do.

I don’t doubt it. And that’s the tragedy. Anyway, she convinced her father that she’d mended her ways and came home. And then she made sure she was caught in the act with her prospective husband and announced that she was pregnant. And nobody - not even the victim - suspected that he wasn’t the father. Trap set. Wedding planned. Everything accounted for. Except that she didn’t know that Brett Macklin hadn’t had the mumps.

I know. The full story.

Rather than bandy words or put forth arguments, Morag takes action and drives Roo to the church where Roo is shortly to marry Frank. It’s slightly unexpected and manages, somehow, to be both melodramatic and understated. Appropriately for a scene in which a character is spiritually shown the shape of things still to come, there’s a hazy, almost gothic sepia tinge to the scene. It doesn’t feel quite real, even though it is:

When you walk down here, if you do, you will have to make certain vows. To love, honour and - perish the thought in this day and age - obey… Imagine how [Frank] is going to feel when he realises that to con, dishonour and entrap are more to the point. The greatest mistake you can make is to marry him, truly loving him, knowing that he’ll end up hating you.

And with that, the burden is on Roo’s shoulders. The worldly high court judge has made her point. Now it’s for a sixteen year old schoolgirl to make yet another life-changing decision.

continued…​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episode 104 …continued



Meanwhile, the residents of Summer Bay are all preparing in their different way. Floss and Nev arrive to spruce up the church and, as Nev comments, Floss is “in fine fettle”:

Only a few hours to go an’ all me worries’ll be over. There’s not a sign of a blue car, LGU 545 or otherwise. Young Frank’s gonna be OK, thank God.

That is until Tom arrives in a car with that very number plate and Pippa freaks out and confesses all she knows:

Frank’s first car. Blue. LGV 545. Floss and Bobby both thought it was near enough to the one Floss dreamt, so… you know how impulsive Bobby is. She burnt it… No-one counted on LGU actually showing up… You’ve just bought the car Floss dreamt about weeks ago. Same colour. Same number plate. And she saw Frank die driving it.

For the first time since I can’t remember when, we have the full core cast present. Everyone gets a little something to do. Surprisingly, the Fletcher kids are the least visible. Frank is the exception, of course (but only just). Bobby makes herself scarce early in the episode. Best man Steven gets a line or two, as do the two youngest girls. Bridesmaid Carly could almost pass for an extra. But that choice is fine. The episode succeeds in making this a full ensemble while the writing keeps things lean and pacey. The one thing that would have made the episode perfect for me would have been to keep Lance and Martin further in the background than they were. Their buffoonery is kept reasonably in check, but I mostly view these two as a necessary evil, like the annoying anthropomorphic sidekick in pretty much any Disney film. It’s almost as if, without them, things would be just too good.

There’s a nice bit of business in which Donald drops by Ailsa’s store for a black shoelace. They have a conversation while he threads away.

It’s charmingly small and real, but Bevan Lee utilises even this seemingly insignificant scene to further the story. We learn Donald snapped his old shoelace in anger after a conversation with his ex-wife:

Alan, my son, has had a surfing accident… She says he’ll be all right but she wants to be with him… The damned woman was being so mysterious. Hinting about something important and then refusing to talk about it over the telephone… I hate that sort of thing. Why can’t she just say what’s on her mind and be done with it.

It’s hearsay, and dropped in so casually it could almost pass for filler. But we learn so much: the reason for Barbara’s non-attendance; the name and hobby of Fisher’s son; and a second hand hint that there are bigger things to come. Even with so much action going on around it, this forgotten scene stood out to me as being up there with any of the drama taking place on consecrated ground.

Celia gets to chirrup with pride and soak up the proceedings full of pride in the Stewart clan:

What a thrill to play for one’s own niece’s wedding. I offered to sing but, for some reason, Ruth didn’t want me to.

As gentle humour goes, this is most welcome. And necessary, with what's still to come.


Roo is deep in thought as her moment approaches.

Chipping away at her conscience is the omniscient, omnipresent Morag:

Are you going, Roo?

I don't wanna keep Frank waiting.

And so it's on to the church.

continued…​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episode 104 …continued



With all the pieces in place, we get to the main event.

The episode, remember, is about truth, confession and - perhaps - redemption. And Roo is the vehicle. Frank stands beside her, Alf stands behind her. But they slip away and we find ourselves alone with only Roo in focus, Morag’s dire warnings resonating in her mind. There are very clear similarities to Sons and Daughters’ five hundredth episode, in which Patricia found herself at a wedding to a man she loved while carrying the burden of a secret that could doom their relationship, and the ceremony becomes not about the union but about the bride internally facing up to the enormity of her situation and reaching an inevitable, fateful decision based not on how she feels about the groom, but upon facts that only she knows.

Justine Clarke does a wonderful job of showing us Roo wrestling with her conscience without saying a word. Whether she wins or not is still to be seen. But this is all about the journey.

I can't. It's not yours.

And that floodgate opens. For everyone.

...continued​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episode 104 …continued

It's not your baby

Don't think I don't love you, because I do. I love you so much.

Prophecy fulfilled. Innocence lost. There is no going back.