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

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 336-340 (...continued)



Carly, too, is making changes in her relationship. It’s out with the old:

Carly, look. We’ve been patient with each other. Hasn’t the time come for…

No. It hasn’t… I don’t feel the same way anymore. I don’t love you anymore. We wouldn’t be good together. Maybe once before when things were different.

My feelings for you… They haven’t changed.

They’ll have to. Because it’s over. I’m sorry Andrew.

Donald later approves of the decision (he actually congratulates her) and tells her she’s showing great maturity. And while Carly later comments to Pippa that it’s none of Donald’s business, he does have a point. Carly is a very likeable character these days. She's less the drama queen and seems to have left her whiny entitlement behind. She is also far more sage and calm in any given situation than she would have been in the same situations just a few short months ago.

It’s possibly in with the new. The guy that rescued Carly, Roo and Bobby is hanging round the diner. He has a yacht and is stirring up a lot of mystery. There’s a bit of a Grease 2 “Who’s That Guy?” thing going on, where everyone - especially Carly - is fascinated by him but nobody seems to know anything about him, including his name.

He’s actually Adam Cameron. Presumably intended as a Frank replacement (he first appeared in Frank’s penultimate episode), I think of him as Home and Away’s answer to Sons and Daughters’ Andy Green: a lanky orphan with equally lanky hair who seems to hang around forever without having a good reason for being there.

Meanwhile, Roo has no less than two goodbye scenes with Alf. The first is when she tells him she’s leaving to be with Frank:

Well, I can’t say I wasn’t expecting it, love. You happy?

What’s happy? Yeah, I guess so. I’m trying not to count on anything, but the future looks good.

You’ve been through a lot for a nineteen year old. Hell of a lot more than I ever had to go through. I’m really proud of you. You know that? An’ I love ya.

I love you too.

The second is as she’s leaving, with a final hug for Ailsa (a really awkward looking hug. It looks as though she still thinks Ailsa has the baby bump):

Bye Ailse. Take care. I’ll be back in time for the christening.

Yeah. Give my love to Barbara… [Duncan starts wailing] Look, uh, Bye, Roo. I’d better go and see what tiger wants. [testily, to Duncan] Can’t you let up just for five minutes?

Well, uh, I guess this is it, eh? …I’ve, uh, got a little something here for you. Just in case you run short.

Dad you’ve already given me enough.

Well, if a bloke can’t indulge his own daughter, what can ‘e do, eh?

I’m gonna miss you.

I’m gonna miss you too, love.

And just like that, Justine Clarke’s Roo is gone forever. I’ll miss her. I love how Ailsa’s baby crisis continues to be a running thread even in this historic scene.


At the bait shop Alf initially tries to avoid the subject of Roo with Tom, but fails when Tom picks up on it and brings the subject up himself:

Look, I, uh, I can understand you bein’ a bit dirty with her but I want you to know she didn’t intend…

It was nobody’s fault, mate. I mean, that was just the way things worked out. If you’re feeling bad about it, don’t. Whatever she and Frank have got going it’s something that they’ve gotta sort out for themselves.

Yeah. I guess they are over eighteen, eh?

Yeah. We’ve done our bit. Now it’s up to them.

continued...​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 336-340 (...continued)



Judy Nunn’s raw performance throughout Episode #340 takes this story to some dark and powerful places.

The episode opens with reprise of a cracker of a scene from the end of the previous episode: Ailsa stands by Duncan’s cot, clearly relieved that he is quiet. She staggers to the lounge, sits down and just as she exhales, the crying starts again. The stress builds and builds as she mutters to Duncan to give it a rest. Then she loses it and with a scream lashes out at a mug on the coffee table which goes flying:

For God’s sake, give it a rest.

Every Ailsa scene at the moment is fraught. She’s clearly on tenterhooks all the time.

Pippa calls round and can see Ailsa’s on edge. Ailsa asks about Christopher: did he cry far more than Pippa was expecting? That kind of thing. Pippa tries to broach her concerns with Ailsa, only to be met with a front:

Ailsa, you are all right, aren’t you? I mean you’re not just saying that you are?

Sure, yeah. I’m fine. I’m just asking, that’s all.

If it gets too much, just put him in his cot and walk away.

Walk away from a crying child? What would people say?

It’s been a pattern for some time now. Each time she’s left alone, she gets closer to breaking. But around others she downplays the extent of her stress, and others do the same.

Celia invites Donald to be godfather and herself to be godmother, where Alf wants Tom and Pippa. But Ailsa hasn’t got it in her to even discuss it with him:

You decide Alf. I’ve got my time cut out stopping the kid from crying without worrying about who’s going to be his damned godparents.

While there are still some familiar music cues, diagetic sounds are particularly important to this storyline. Specifically, Duncan’s cries. Back when baby Christopher came home from hospital I commented how much he cried, and how the series didn’t shy away from having scene after scene of him crying over dialogue. This is also very much the case with Duncan. In fact his screaming becomes the soundtrack; the sound we need to absorb in order to begin to understand what Ailsa is hearing and living with.

After snapping at Alf about Duncan’s godparents, the next time we see Ailsa, some eighteen and a half minutes into the episode, there is no dialogue and no score. The sound for the entire 27 seconds is Duncan crying. We’re in the living room with Ailsa, who is pacing back and forth restlessly behind the sofa, her hands gripping one another. After fifteen seconds she forces herself to sit on the sofa and the camera moves slowly in. She buries her head in her hands, then snaps up. Clenches her shaking hands as though praying, then raises her fingers into steeples and clenches them again. The whole time she is sobbing and she raises her face so it’s almost skyward, with a look of desperation on her face.

It’s a relief when the scene cuts away to Summer Bay house for a scene without a screaming baby. But when we return to Ailsa some ninety seconds later, she hasn’t had the luxury of getting away from the sound.

Ailsa is still sobbing on the sofa. She picks up a cushion and clenches it tightly while rocking back and forth. Then a look crosses her face, as though she’s had a thought that’s impossible to ignore. Still carrying the cushion she walks across to Duncan’s room and opens the door. She stands in the doorway silently for a couple of moments, before clutching the cushion, her anguished pleas escaping her in a series of hoarse sounds, punctuated with cries and sobs:

Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

It’s an unforgettable scene. Judy Nunn is so terrifying in her intensity she seems almost possessed. It’s difficult to see Ailsa as anything but dangerously anguished. She’s quite terrifying. And that’s not even factoring in that this is someone on the brink of potentially committing infanticide. Each time I’ve watched this scene I’ve felt concern for this woman’s welfare. And there are frightening flashes of the eighteen year old Ailsa, also pushed to her limits with fatal results. This is a look at history about to repeat itself with an even more devastating outcome.

It’s a dark moment for the series and the character. The post-natal scenes with Ailsa and Duncan have felt very British in tone. There’s a grit and an ugliness to them that I associate with the likes of EastEnders or Brookside. And I applaud this series - and Judy Nunn - for taking the risk of going to such an ugly place.

 

[Spells & Karma]

A little reflection from Justine on her time in the Bay:

And a taste of Roo and Frank's life, post Summer Bay:

 

[Werewillie Oleson]

I think of him as Home and Away’s answer to Sons and Daughters’ Andy Green

A few hours ago I was browsing this thread on my phone, and even before I read this comment I enlarged the picture to see if it was (or wasn't) our favourite Andy.

 

[Spells & Karma]

A few hours ago I was browsing this thread on my phone, and even before I read this comment I enlarged the picture to see if it was (or wasn't) our favourite Andy.

Oh - great minds think alike. There is a certain similarity, isn't there? Greatly boosted by the mullet, of course.

 

[Werewillie Oleson]

Just checked amazon, still no news about season 3.
But how many seasons would you like to watch? When does the "best of" end?

 

[Spells & Karma]

But how many seasons would you like to watch? When does the "best of" end?

It's funny you should mention that, because the last episodes I've watched have changed the opening credits to remove a couple of departing characters and to add a couple of new ones. For the first time, I've looked at the newcomers in the opening credits (Adam being one of them) and instead of excitement I've just felt quite disheartened. So in all fairness I won't panic if there are no more episodes after this batch. The next significant addition to the titles will be Dannii Minogue, which I can't say I'm looking forward to with any great relish.

There are various character departures that I think signal the end of certain eras. There's one in the first half of Season Three which changes the focus a little, so it might be nice to get up to that point at least.

The first time round I think I'd stopped watching regularly by the end of Season Five. That was also the last season to use the "classic" opening titles, so that seems as good a point as any.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Actually, I've reached a particularly cursed era of H&A episodes.


In random series of meaningless events that are stuck in my head, I clearly remember that the second half of Episode 343 was the only part of H&A I missed for its first 1000+ episodes. There was some kind of transmission problem in my ITV region. I got up at 6am the next morning to make frantic phone calls to them. The first first time I rang I ended up speaking to the late night on-screen continuity type presenter, who I guess was the only person around. Then, when I rang at a decent hour it was to get the devastating news that they didn’t plan to show it again. Nor would they send me the videotape. They tried to console me with the fact that they’d created a résumé to be shown before the next day’s episode. But I knew that with such a blot on my viewing record I would never be able to claim superfandom. Things just weren’t the same with me and Home and Away after that.

Earlier today I watched Episode 343. And now my barely-a-year-old laptop has a flickering screeen, meaning I can hardly see what I'm typing. And it's threatening to go for good. So it's quite possible there won't be any comments about my viewing for a week or so. Not unless I take notes by hand and transcribe them later.

 

[Werewillie Oleson]

I got up at 6am the next morning to make frantic phone calls to them

But I knew that with such a blot on my viewing record I would never be able to claim superfandom

I feel your pain. I'll never forget that day when I missed 20 minutes of a Dynasty episode. My parents even considered calling the doctor.

 

[Spells & Karma]

I feel your pain. I'll never forget that day when I missed 20 minutes of a Dynasty episode. My parents even considered calling the doctor.

Oh - thanks for the understanding Willie.It's taken me thirty years, but I'm healing.

These traumas aren't easy to overcome, are they? Only someone who's been through it can really understand what it's like.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 341-350

There’s a part in my nature that I’ve never really recognised before. Something in me snaps. I’ve tried to blot it out. Bury my head in the sand. But it doesn’t help. It’s always there… Just waiting for me to drop my guard. It’s so difficult for me to come to terms with, Morag. To know that there’s… a violence in me. Just like my father.

When I attacked him it was because he was beating my mother. That made what I did forgivable. But to think that I felt that violence towards my own child. Why? What’s wrong with me? Am I going mad? Why?

Since we last left Ailsa about to smother her own infant child with a cushion, it’s understandable that the fallout from this has dominated most of this two weeks’ worth of episodes.

Firstly, let me just reiterate how much I loathe the spoilers that come in the “Next On Home and Away” thingies at the end of each episode. Why have a cliffhanger that’s followed IMMEDIATELY by a preview of the resolution. And often followed by a clip of the final scene of the next episode. I know some people love spoilers, but I’m just not one of them. This is a rewatch of a series I’ve seen before and I still don’t want to know what’s coming up. Once again, thank God ITV didn’t include these when they originally aired the series.

Anyway, as anyone who glanced at a second or two of the preview attached to the cliffhanger will know, Alf arrived home at a very convenient moment:

Ailse, what’s goin’ on? You all right, love?

Ray Meagher does a really nice job of appearing shaken. There’s a scene where Pippa comes over at his request and he can’t even tell her what’s happened, he just sends her in to speak to Ailsa and disappears into Duncan’s bedroom.

He’s not even admitting to himself what he saw. I was standing there with a cushion. I was that close to smothering Duncan. Oh, it’s gone on for days. This continual crying. Just when I go to sleep… off he starts again. Alf never hears it. I’m always the one who has to get up. I just wanted some peace and quiet for a little while. Just a moment to myself. Oh God, I fed him. I burped him. I changed him. Everything you’re supposed to do. Still he kept on crying and crying. If Alf hadn’t come home… I just wanted to stop the noise.

It’s some time before Alf is able to tell Tom what’s happened:

When I came home from work yesterday I walked into the room an’ she had a pillow right near his face. She was just standing there, arms tense. If I’d been any later… There was no love there. Not a skerrick. She just doesn’t want him.

I really like that the two main couples of the series bonding in this way. It feels quite Ewing/Mackenzie. And on a related note, some recent-ish episodes have featured a Knotsian cross cutting of conversations between two different conversations discussing the same topic from different angles. It works well for this series.

Coming into this, I remembered Alf and Ailsa as the solid married couple. I knew there were problems created by Roo and whatnot, but overall I’d forgotten how many times they’d separated or called things off in some way. This run of episodes is another example of Ailsa walking away. This time, though, is different. While it’s Ailsa who wants to get away, it’s Alf who paves the way by swallowing his pride and asking Morag if Ailsa can stay with her.

After Bobby hears about the move, she’s quick to march over for a confrontation, but finds herself forcibly removed by the mistress of the house:

If you’ve ever wondered where you got your streak of physical toughness from, young lady, I am more than willing to show you.

You’ve fixed everything, haven’t you? …I know what you’re up to. Ya never have liked Alf bein’ with Ailsa an’ you finally think you’ve come up with a way of splitting them up. It’s called “blame the baby”, isn’t it? Well it’s not going to work, because I’m on to you.

As ever, the growing friendship between Ailsa and Morag feels very authentic and highly watchable. There’s a growing mutual respect, but the fact that each also challenges the other stops their scenes from feeling too gooey or warm.

Their exchanges elicit a great deal of honesty from one another, and so the simplest of conversations can cover a wide range of topics, delving deep and sometimes escalating into heated disagreement. And all with a thread of mutual respect running throughout. One such example begins with Morag reading a frivolous magazine questionnaire on marriage that Ailsa gets twitchy about:

Remember, I’m the one whose marriage broke up, not you.

You still love him, don’t you?

I’ll get over it.

Doesn’t seem fair to lose the man you love because of a child you didn’t want.

Oh, madly empathising, aren’t we?

You know, I’ve often wondered why you didn’t take the easy way out and terminate the pregnancy.

[weakly]I couldn’t do that. Oh yes. Life is full of little surprises, isn’t it?

Yes, and inconsistencies. You’ve never shown a scrap of maternal feelings towards Bobby.

That is because I can’t equate her to the child I gave away.

Oh, come on Morag. Nobody’s perfect. Who do you think you are?

I am a High Court judge forced into a scandalous retirement by my delinquent daughter. You really see her through rose-coloured glasses, don’t you?

I see what she could have become if she’d had the advantages that you could have given her.

And why should I lift a finger to help her after the way she has treated me?

Because you’re responsible for that chip on her shoulder… You might blame Bobby for everything you’ve lost, but if I lose Alf it won’t be Duncan’s fault. It’ll be mine.

The reasoning behind Morag not terminating her pregnancy here is close to the one she "confessed" to Nigel (this time without the need to punish her confidante for witnessing her vulnerability. Progress, perhaps). Quite a different light was cast on the option during her housewarming attack on Bobby in which she claimed that she would have aborted had she been presented with it as an option. Despite the apparent contradiction, both feel accurate. It's likely that the story she tells Ailsa (and told Nigel) is very close to the truth as it happened in 1969: after all, her defences are down here. But what she said at the housewarming also felt true for her retrospective wishes at that particular time. The "couldn't do that" Morag might have won out. But humans are fickle creatures, given to decisions based on whims and fears. And Morag is most definitely human.

continued...​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 341-350 (...continued)


With Duncan’s Christening approaching, all minds are turning towards that. Alf broaches the subject with Ailsa who sensibly says she doesn’t feel up to it. Celia, naturally, is beside herself about the cancellation. And Bobby is none too happy either:

You’re starting to sound like Morag. No wonder. You’re two of a kind. Y’know, when I first met you I used to think it was a shame you weren’t some kid’s mother. Just goes to show how wrong you can be, doesn’t it? I think you’re wimping out. And it makes me want to puke.

This motivates Ailsa into changing her mind. Another factor is that she receives a card from another face not seen onscreen for some time:

While it’s bittersweet to think that we’ll never see him again, this is a really nice touch. Walt was a great character and anything that keeps him alive is no bad thing. In another recent episode, Colleen mentioned in passing that Walt was living at her house, which I probably knew but had forgotten. It would have been interesting to see conversations in that particular household. But at this moment in time, Colleen has other things on her mind as she probes Marilyn about the reasons for Ailsa being at Morag’s:

Surely you must’ve heard something. Stories of Alf beating ‘er up, maybe. Or some floozy he’s got on the side, more likely…. Don’t tell me he’s havin’ an affair with Pippa Fletcher.

On the day of the ceremony, Ailsa starts to have grave doubts. And not just because Morag didn’t approve of her hat:

I can’t do it.

You can’t back down now. They’re expecting you.

Alf’ll understand.

My brother doesn’t take kindly to public humiliation. By not turning up at all you’ll be showing the whole world that you and I are no different.

Meanwhile, there’s a returnee for the occasion. I was well and truly surprised when Roo walked through Alf’s door because I’d forgotten about this and thought she’d gone for good. Roo herself is surprised to find Alf somewhat befuddled and no sign of Ailsa:

She’s with your Auntie Morag. Reckons she’s the only one who understands.

Why?

Because she had a kid she couldn’t stand the sight of either. I know, love. I was pretty shocked too. She’s just not the same woman I married, love.

Roo admires the Stewart Christening gown which came with their ancestors from Scotland and which Celia has been entrusted (or more likely “volunteered” herself) to look after:

It’ll be yours one day. Oh, you’ll have lots more children. And losing Martha will make you love them all the more.

It’s a nice nod to her past. And we touch on her more recent past when Roo takes the bull by the horns and goes to the diner:

I just wanted to make sure the air was clear before the Christening.

Yeah, well I don’t want us to be enemies, but you can’t really think you can go off with Frank and expect me to say “no hard feelings” do you?

Roo goes to leave but Bobby offers an olive branch by asking her to stay for coffee:

Look it’s not your fault my marriage broke up. It didn’t have a start in the first place. Frank married me ‘cause he wanted to hurt you… I’m not saying he knew it at the time, but I knew I was getting him on the rebound. I just didn’t want to admit it.

I’m sorry you got hurt.

Yeah, well, I asked for it. So it wouldn’t be fair to blame you.

Thanks.

Well, that’s my head talking. I still wanna punch you out.

Frank still cares about you.

Yeah, but he loves you. An’ that’s what it’s all about.

Now, Roo practically had Bobby’s blessing to go after Frank and they’d previously parted on reasonably good terms, so there’s an element of backtracking or covering the same ground. But at the same time, with such an emotional situation and a complicated history I fully believed the way it played out. Bobby might have entered a slightly less accepting phase of her grief, and that’s fine.

It’s been an odd situation with Roo and Frank’s exits. Both had what appeared to be definitive endings but then reappeared for a couple of episodes very soon after. There are good reasons for both: Frank’s return was to bring Roo’s story to a close. Then Roo’s return has been for a family occasion - one which she agreed to be at before leaving. She looks genuinely pleased when Ailsa arrives at the church, and there are smiles between she and Morag too.

The downside of their return visits is that in both cases, the actors’ very final scenes in the show were far more forgettable than their “original” exits. Indeed, I had to rewind to double check where Roo was last seen. In a nice touch, her very final moments had her posing for a family picture, and laughing happily.

But the timing of this actually raises some big questions. Immediately after the photo was taken, Ailsa threw Duncan at Pippa and asked if she could settle him. We then went into the nursery with Pippa and Duncan and saw her concern at finding him covered in a rash, which led into a soapy medical emergency. However, this raises the question of why Roo didn’t accompany them to the hospital in the next scene. Duncan is her brother, after all. She wasn’t specifically seen in the living room when Pippa went to raise the alarm, so it could be argued that she’d departed in the twenty seconds Pippa was in the nursery. But that’s a stretch. It would take several minutes to say her goodbyes. The most reasonable explanation is that she chose to stay behind in order not to disrupt her return to the city. But it still seems odd that nothing was said about it. So there’s an air of mystery to Roo’s final moments. Even if it’s not acknowledged.

continued...​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 341-350 (...continued)

When I saw him in there hooked up to all those things and his little hands - his tiny, tiny little hands - seemed to be reaching out to me. I knew then how much I loved him. I wanted it to be me suffering, not Duncan. We made that little boy together and I wanna look after him. I wanna hold him. I wanna touch him. What if it’s too late? What if he dies?

With Duncan in crisis, Ailsa’s maternal feelings are finally emerging. It’s telling of how bad things have become that when the rash is discovered, Alf doesn’t appear to expect Ailsa to go along. She stands in the background like a concerned extra until finally stepping forwards:

I’ll come with you. I am his mother.

The family - sans Roo - dash into the hospital with Alf still in his Stewart kilt:

There’s a bolshy nurse on duty at the A+E desk and for a few wonderful moments there’s a flash of Sister Scott from Cornelia:

Nurse. That form is not your main priority. Would you get on the phone and have a doctor here immediately, please. You do value your job, I take it?

When it comes to supporting Ailsa, the roles of the Stewart sisters have reversed. It’s Celia who is highly critical and - more importantly - the person who defends Ailsa is Morag. She does so repeatedly and forcefully:

Poor little Duncan. If he’d had the love and care he deserved. You’d think that a mother would know instinctively if her child was coming down with something.

Celia, stupidity is not going to improve the situation. And what, may I ask, would the spinster of the parish know about it anyway?

A lot more than someone who gave her own child away.

Ailsa’s hardly taken any interest in Duncan. There should be a woman in there who really cares.

Shut up, Celia. Of course Ailsa cares.

Alfred you can’t blame yourself. You have been coping with that baby practically single-handed. If anyone’s to blame I know who it is.

And if you so much utter the name of this so-called negligent person you will seriously regret it, Celia.

The dynamic between Morag and Pippa is interesting in their brief interaction at the hospital. There’s still a degree of formality, but in place of the usual awkwardness is a warm understanding. As in her chats with Ailsa, it fleshes Morag out into a more rounded, human and likeable character. Perhaps necessary for her to be a long-term regular character. Pippa asks if she can help, and Morag asks her to take Celia away for a couple of hours. Pippa nods sympathetically and obliges. Back at Summer Bay House, Dodge decides to get some digs in at Celia:

Why didn’t you ever have children of your own, Miss Stewart?

Well, I… I guess I just wasn’t fortunate.

Must be a big gap, hey? I mean, bein’ an Auntie’s not the same as bein’ a Mum. Must be really lonely for ya… Ah well. You still got that Duncan kid, huh?

Poor Celia. And it’s about to get worse for her when the doctor tries to ascertain the cause of Duncan’s illness:

His respiration is worse and his condition is deteriorating rapidly. We thought it was an allergic reaction, but we can’t find anything amiss. We’ve checked the clothes, we’ve tested…

No, no. He wasn’t wearing those clothes. We changed him.

He was in the Stewart Christening gown… It’s Victorian. It’s cotton voile with fine embroidery. I take care of it myself… After every use it’s cleaned and then stored away very carefully in a plastic bag.

That’s what it is. A combination of the cleaning fluid… and the chemicals from the plastic. Toxic fumes.

You see what you’ve done. All your talk about family tradition… All your fuss. All your sanctimonious… Anybody’d think you were the one who’d given birth to Duncan…. I was the one who had to toe the line. I had to behave like a Stewart woman’s supposed to behave…Duncan is my baby. I carried him. I gave birth to him. I love him. And if he dies it’s all your fault.

It’s a very human reaction, and there’s an enjoyable hypocrisy to the extremes of her feelings towards Duncan. There’s also a sense that it’s overcompensation and blame coming from a place of guilt. It reminds me a little of when Fiona Thompson suddenly decided she loved her son Terry and woe betide anyone who threatened that. But mostly I saw Mrs Kintner in Jaws, slapping Chief Brody over the son who’d been killed while she read her book on the beach.

Incidentally, perhaps a sign I’m getting old is how young the doctor looks. Google tells me Cranston Brecht is now a psychotherapist who is “very skilled with personality disorders and complex trauma”. These characters must have seemed like Christmas to him.

Diffusing any irritation at Ailsa’s hypocrisy, she openly admits her overreaction:

Celia. I owe you an apology.

No you don’t. Everything you said was perfectly true.

Nonsense. I was carrying on like a madwoman.

Alf rang me last night. He told me that Duncan’s going to be all right which is just marvellous news.

Yes, it certainly is. So, no hard feelings?

Certainly not against you, but I’m very disgusted with myself… Because of my negligence that little baby almost lost his life.

Incidentally, I liked the direction of the scene in which Ailsa was told Duncan was OK. With no dialogue and only Ailsa’s unreadable response, the conversation could have gone either way, and it effectively gets the viewer’s stomach turning slightly. There is that brief window where it seems she might have been given the worst news possible, until Alf comes and is given the good news - and their first physical contact since Ailsa walked out:

continued...​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 341-350 (...continued)


Stacey has bet Martin that he won’t be able to lift up an anchor, so there are tedious scenes of him taking delivery of, assembling and using exercise equipment. Plus almost every episode now has at least one segment where he jogs up to the anchor accompanied by wailing guitar music and fails to lift it.

There’s also a Lance/Marilyn plot recycled from the Martin/Leanne era, which I thought I was going to hate but which has won me over. Up to a point.

Martin, convinced Marilyn wants to marry Lance, convinces him to dump her before she drags him down the aisle. Meanwhile, Colleen is also thinking wedding bells are in the air and starts dropping enormous hints to Marilyn - walking her past the church, and the like. So when Lance takes Marilyn to have a serious chat at the diner (where else?), Marilyn is expecting a proposal but gets the heave ho. So far, so blah.

The saving grace with this storyline is the involvement of Colleen. Lance is afraid of his mother’s reaction to him ending things and so even as he dumps Marilyn, he asks her to tell Colleen the split was her idea. Marilyn obliges and tells Colleen in the kitchen of Lance’s home while Colleen is preparing vegetables. As realisation sets in, Colleen becomes more hysterical and shrill by the word as she has her say to Marilyn while brandishing a stick of celery:

What a miserable, low down thing to do. All this time you been leadin’ us on. Lyin’ to Lancie. Lyin’ to me. Just who do you think you are, eh? Ya little hussy. You can’t do this to us. I’ll show you. Get out. Go on. Scram. Beat it. Skedaddle.

During the latter part of her dialogue she starts physically beating Marilyn with the celery, driving her from the kitchen. On the first strike, the disobedient stick snaps, but Lyn Collingwood - professional that she is - manages to keep hold of it almost unnoticed and continue the beating.

It’s a genuinely funny scene, but I love the vein of pathos that runs through it. Marilyn is clearly shocked and hurt. So is Colleen, who starts crying immediately afterwards. It’s difficult to make this balance work, and the risk is that in trying to be two things a scene fails on both counts. This isn’t the case here. It’s rather Corrie-esque, and I’m also seeing something of the Lilimae in Colleen, which is no bad thing by any means.

Marilyn then goes to Morag’s but since Morag has already given Marilyn some enforced holiday in order to give Ailsa some respite, she finds there’s no room at the inn.

This vein continues into the next episode. With Lance not coming home, we see Colleen looking sadly at the two full plates of food before covering one and putting it into the oven. When she’s talking to Donald and Celia saying she hopes Lance isn’t out there alone, her audio continues over shots of Marilyn on a clifftop, looking reflectively out at the water.

Things take a turn for the worse when it becomes an Andrew-heavy storyline. When Colleen comes to the diner looking for Lance, he sits and overreacts as she talks to Lance, with inserted close ups of Peter Bensley’s gurning while Lyn Collingwood wails which becomes too much (why can’t he just allow another actor to do their thing without trying to get in on it. It’s so distracting).

Now, plainly at this point I’m not enjoying Andrew. Most of my bias towards him is down to the portrayal. Bensley’s style just doesn’t appeal to me in this role and in this series. Try as I might to avoid it, there comes a point in this situation where the character can’t do anything right. I suppose there has to be a synergy between writing and acting. A likeable actor can overcome a character's shortcomings and contrivances in the writing. Whereas with an actor who is already an endurance test, the character's foibles are more difficult to overcome as a viewer (I had a similar experience with Mack Mackenzie last time I watched Knots in full, despite not experiencing that with him on previous viewings). Such is the case with Andrew at the moment. There are issues with the way he’s written - much of which is necessary to create some kind of conflict. But I find myself feeling irritated rather than invested.

Rather like a soap doctor is an expert in every field of medicine, so a soap counsellor is never off the job and has expertise in all aspects of human behaviour to the point of clairvoyance. And so, Andrew immediately correctly intuits the way things actually happened and - sensing a whiff of drama - he hunts all over town, eventually finding her atop the cliff where he does what all appropriate counsellors do in such a situation - he puts his paws all over her and tells her it’s going to be OK.

After this unsolicited proffering of his services, Marilyn becomes his client as he wanted, nicely stoking his ego. Then, once the inital drama is over he is unhappy when she becomes too needy and he thinks she has developed feelings for him. Instead of discussing his concerns with Marilyn or his supervisor (does he even have a supervisor?) he bitches about Marilyn to everyone in town from her employer to his roommate and anyone who happens to be in the diner. After repeatedly breaching client/counsellor confidentiality he has the cheek to go to Marilyn’s home and tell her - in front of her employer - how important the boundaries of their professional relationship are.

He then puts his people skills to good use by bluntly telling Marilyn that he has no interest in her and never will. This has led into what is apparently crossed wires all round. Marilyn has been out shopping but is distracted. She’s collected Morag’s sleeping tablets and something for her own headache. She then accidentally takes a couple of Morag’s medication pills instead of the paracetamol and is found slumped on the floor by Celia.

Meanwhile, things have come full circle at Lance’s. Colleen has discovered the truth and this time it’s Lance she drives from the kitchen to the living room as she shrieks:

Oh, when I think of the mud that I’ve thrown at that poor, sweet girl. You should be ashamed. And what must she think of me now, eh? …You’re a mean, smarmy, nasty mongrel. An’ if you ever try an’ pull the wool over my eyes like this again I’ll cook you on me barbie.

Lance ends up in Martin's lap. This is followed by a terrific moment where Colleen starts to walk off but turns and snatches Martin’s beer can while giving him the evil eye. Then she slam dunks the can into the kitchen bin, gathers her shopping bag, rolls her eyes to the heavens, sighs and walks out. Things are quite watchable in the mobile home these days, thanks to Colleen.

continued...​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 341-350 (...continued)


Dodge and Steven have paid another visit to the city. The change in tone and pace reminds me a little of those EastEnders flashbacks where Diane Butcher remembered her time as a runaway. Or perhaps the Brookie bubble, South (which I missed at the time and have never managed to catch up on in the intervening three decades or so).

Dodge steals money and clothes while Steve reluctantly covers. They both go gaga over a bland blonde runaway named Viv.

The only interesting thing about her is the sunglasses she occasionally wears. However, the powers that be have given us the cue that Viv is a Very Important Character by giving her a solo spot in the opening credits a couple of episodes before she even appeared (she also got a credit at the END of her first episode, because she’s important enough to be billed twice). Adding insult to injury, she is second billed, after Tom and Pippa and BEFORE Alf, Ailsa, Celia, Donald, Morag, Bobby, Carly, Steven and Sally. The blooming cheek.

Adam also gets his own solo credit in the opening titles (why not just stick him and Viv together, I find myself wondering). Up to this point, solo credits have been retained for significant characters or actors. Tom; Pippa; Morag. There was Sally in the Pilot, of course, but it could be argued she shared it with Milco. And even if not, at least she’s an original member of the central family.

Adam and Viv are representative of a new wave of central characters. Both of them are drifters who are drawn to stay in Summer Bay by circumstances, but without pre-existing ties to any of the characters. Viv was brought by Dodge and Steven who have persuaded Colleen and Lance to allow her to pose as Lance’s cousin. Adam was passing through but his yacht has been wrecked by Revhead after the car stealing incident, meaning Adam has to work in the diner to slowly earn the tens of thousands necessary to repair it (a similar scenario to Marilyn being tied to working for Morag in order to pay for the priceless vase she broke).

Up to this point, only other series regular I can think of who was in the same “outsider” category is Matt. But at least with Matt he was around for several months before being boosted to regular. And he shared his credit with another character.

Viv and Adam’s immediate entry to the show as series regulars feels like something of a turning point. And one that takes place at the top of a slippery slope. In 1990 when they debuted on British screens, I really wanted to like them. And I was in the teen demographic their characters were aimed at. I knew of Mouche Phillips from interviews in TV magazines. And possibly even a mention in Behind The Scenes or some other official book. I knew she was Justine Clarke’s roommate and she was touted as the next big thing. Sometimes, the more something is marketed the bigger the disappointment. I was greatly underwhelmed thirty years ago and I don’t expect to be any more impressed this time round. I certainly haven’t been so far. By either of them. Cool shades aside, the only other time Viv’s story has interested was when she ran away (again) and became friendly with an eccentric homeless bag lady named Beulah. But that was down to Beulah herself. I’d like to have seen more of her than the one episode stint. Shame they didn’t swap places.

There’s yet another new face in the series: Nina Olivera, a friend of Stacey's who did the marketing for Santa Never Stops In Summer Bay.

She arrives at Stacey’s place and naturally immediately lusts after Andrew who rejects her with equal speed, presumably because - like Marilyn - she’s far too old for him (I wonder if it’s in Peter Bensley’s contract that every younger female character should have an unrequited crush on Andrew. How else can it be explained?).

Unike Marilyn, Nina isn’t too downhearted by Andrew’s rejection. She has plans:

I’m gonna manufacture a group and turn them into superstars.

So who are the nobodies?

Those droobs who wrote “Santa Never Stops In Summer Bay”. By the time we’ve finished with them, the teenyboppers will be crazy for them.

Sigh. Just when you think the series has moved on from Lance and Martin’s recording career. Deep breaths, Mel.

There’s a chance it may not happen. Lance is still to be convinced. Perhaps partly because he doesn’t have a clue what it’s all about:

My friend Nina and I want to promote you as the next big super duo. Australia’s answer to Wham!

What’s that?

The truth about Steven and Dodge’s trips to the city, while they were supposed to be camping, has come out. A series of events that began when Tom met Viv who was hiding in the shed, and continued when he spoke to Donald:

It’s Steven. I’ve been a bit worried about his attitude the last few weeks. Have you, uh, noticed anything round school?

Not noticeably, no. But now that you mention it, his schoolwork isn’t up to his usual standard… By the way, will Steven be well enough for sports today?

Well enough? I didn’t even know he was sick.

Oh, well you might be right about his attitude then. Steven wasn’t at school yesterday. He turned up this morning with a note explaining his absence - supposedly written by you.

This gives us some classic “don’t mess with Tom” moments, the first of which comes immediately:

So where the hell were you yesterday… And what do you think gives you the right to start forging notes from me? Tell me, Steven: how many other lies have you been telling Pippa and me lately, eh?

Let’s hope there are more arse kickings to come.

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 351-355


Something feels a little flat at the moment. Whether it’s me or the series isn’t clear, but I’m feeling less pull to watch.

It’s taken the best part of a week to watch five episodes. Usually, this is a good thing as it reduces the desensitisation of binge watching and allows me to find the meaning in what’s going on. Not so here, though. It’s still an enjoyable way to while away twenty minutes but, for the most part, once it’s finished it’s forgotten.

The key arc this week has been the Dark Steven storyline where Steven, influenced by Dodge, is rebelling against authority, be it Tom and Pippa or Donald and the school. We’ve been here before, with Jeff Samuels And The Power Pack (which, it strikes me, looks like the name of either a Motown act or a bandleader and his orchestra). Adam Willits seems to enjoy getting stuck into these scenes and strikes a good balance of arrogance and confusion. I have found myself wondering if this is perhaps closer to the real Adam. And while I don’t know either way, it doesn’t really matter so long as I believe it to this extent.

On his first short stint in the bay as the outsider, I found Dodge to be a most compelling character. Since returning as a foster kid, he seems to have been somewhat diluted. Thanks to Kelly Dingwall he’s still very watchable, but I’ve found myself strangely uninvested. Even when he’s intimidating a ten year old:

Think ya Pippa’s little pet, don’t ya? Well don’t you ever try an’ dob on me. Or Dag Dog’ll be dead dog. Understand? …Glad we got that one straight.

The interest for me is very much coming from the big picture rather than the individual pieces within. Dodge’s presence has thrown off the dynamic of the Fletcher family unit. Up until very recently, both Tom and Pippa have been blithely unaware of what’s been going on. But there are now growing suspicions.

Tom, we’ve got to do something… about Dodge. There is something going on between him and Sally. I don’t know what it is but this afternoon the air round here was so think you could have cut it with a knife.

After the discovery that Steven and Dodge sneaked off to the city while ostensibly camping, both have been grounded. Dodge continues to do his Dodge thing and Steven loyally covers. At first it’s just covering for him or backing up his story.

Dodge not with you?

He’s playing hockey.

Hockey? …You’re both still grounded and I get the distinct impression that you’re covering for him.

Anything to get Dodge shipped out, right? We both know what this is all about. You’re still trying to get rid of him. Creating hassle so Tom’ll have an excuse to kick him out.

Steven’s motivation, if you like, is that he fears Dodge will be removed from the family. He mentions that Tom and Pippa were reluctant to foster another kid when suggesting that Dodge should toe the line. This prompts Dodge to work his charm on Tom with a bluff

I don’t know why Pip an’ Sal have got it in for me, but it’s obviously causing a whole heap o’ hassles… I’m offerin’ to split. Leave you all in peace. You can pick up where you left off before I got ‘ere. You say the word an’ I’ll walk out o’ here an’ out of your life for good. No questions asked.

Tom buys it but Pippa doesn’t and they have one of those Knotsy gender-separated discussions where they cover the same topic through very different eyes:

Tom’s determined to give him another go… He’s convinced Dodge has turned a corner.

Confront a man with feminine intuition and they say you’re being totally irrational.

So that leaves me and Sally in one corner. And him and Steven and Dodge in the other.

Does Pippa ever fall back on that female intuition stuff?

Oh yeah. She does as a matter of fact.

Geez, they’re classics, aren’t they. They won’t listen ta common sense. They carry on with all this other hocus pocus stuff. You take Ailse. I can’t remember the number of times she’s insisted on this women’s intuition to get it all wrong… I haven’t got enough fingers an’ toes.

Their respective environs further accentuate the gender divide. The women converse in the home, surrounded by babies and with the kitchen as a backdrop. The blokes are in the masculine surrounds of Alf's dark green painted bait shop, all laddish smiles and folded arms.

Then Steven begins taking the blame. First for an incident at school (adding insult to injury, he then refuses to show up for his detention) and then when Dodge steals car for the umpteenth time and is involved in a collision (which sounds exciting but actually felt very prosaic. Maybe that was the point):

This is about the car accident, right? I’m the one who was driving the other car.

continued...​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 351-355 (...continued)



Episode 354 has another time lapse as we jump forward from Steven’s confession to the day of his hearing.

Everyone is concerned about the outcome, not least Celia. Unfortunately for her, Morag is in a playful mood:

Morag, what will the punishment be? Now, I want your professional opinion.

Well, it’s getting very tough now, you know… Ten years’ hard labour. No parole. And in extreme cases: the guillotine.

While this is very much in character for both Stewart sisters, Celia has been acting quite out of character in other ways, snapping at friends and family for the smallest of reasons and growing increasingly paranoid about people’s motives and perception of her. Her separation and misconstruing is perhaps best exemplified in a “thought bubble” scene that takes place while she and Alf are taking stock at the bait shop where we quickly realise they’re on completely different trains to one another:

[*thinks*] To think I can’t even trust my own brother. The very idea of him scheming to get his grasping hands on my insurance money.

[*thinks*]This Camembert stuff’s selling fast. Summer Bay’s turnin’ yuppie. Used ta be the Cheddar. In my day it was Belvita and Saos.

While the Fletchers are in court with Steven, Celia confides in Ailsa, who is babysitting Christopher and Sally (nothing is said, but it shows how far Ailsa has come in a short time that she is happy to look after two babies and it speaks volumes that Pippa trusts her to do so):

Why do people say some women choose not to marry? I’ve never been able to understand that. All I ever wanted was a husband and children to take care of… Nigel was my last chance at happiness. I so much wanted it to work out with him. I wanted it too badly. I just feel so tired all the time.

You seen a doctor?

What good would that do? I don’t need pills, Ailsa. I just need something to make me want to get up in in the morning… I’ve given up. I don’t even set the table anymore. What’s the point - just for one? …There’s no joy in my life. I’ve stopped playing my music. I’ve neglected my tennis. Oh, I still go to church, but it doesn’t console me. My life’s so empty… I’m useless. The past few weeks I have felt completely irrelevant to everybody. And people frighten me… And this might sound really silly Ailsa, but I feel like I’m dying.

It’s vintage Celia, and recognised as such in being lovingly shot and scored with a rendition of Celia’s Theme. Long story short: Ailsa persuades Celia to see a gynaecologist.


When the Fletchers return we find out what Steven’s penalty is, and there’s a lovely moment that clearly demonstrates Celia’s thought for others:

Two years probation and a five hundred dollar fine.

I don’t mean to intrude but, Steven… I could lend you the money.

That’s very sweet of you, Celia, but Steven will have to find his own way of paying it off.

While Steven is in juvenile court, Dodge spends time enjoying himself on the beach. Moments after Steven’s return to the house, he begins to back Dodge’s lie about circuit training:

I don’t wanna hear it. Don’t you take me for a fool, either of you. I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two but I sure as hell aren’t having any more of it, you understand? …I don’t want these smart Alecs sharing a room anymore. You two are gonna be separated. You really had me conned the other morning, didn’t you? With all your sob story about wanting to be part of a real family. I don’t think you give a toss about this family.

Course I do.

Shut up. Before you came here, Steven would never have taken off like that to town. And he would certainly never have stolen a car. You’re a bad influence. Well, from now on you’re both gonna have to toe the line. Because if you don’t I’m gonna have to think very seriously about your future here with us.

With Frank gone and Carly working at the diner, Bobby is properly feeling part of the Fletcher family again. This is a good thing, and eminently more watchable than she and Frank arguing. A nighttime scene round the dining table where Bobby and Carly talk over recent events with Steven and try to reassure him that Tom would calm down reminded me of the secret nighttime meetings the kids occasionally held in the early days. Even the dialogue contains a reference to the past as they discuss Dodge:

He just reminds me of someone I used to know, that’s all. Gary Samuels, if you must know.

Carly. Gary Samuels was a complete con artist.

You asked me.

It’s not the only nod to the past. The perennial Pilot episode gets the nostalgic dialogue treatment yet again:

I remember the first day I saw you. I was hiding up in that old ‘van because Flathead was trying to set me up with the cops. You guys looked like you were from The Brady Bunch or somethin’. You know, I never thought I’d ever fit in.

It’s interesting that Bobby slipped back into using Donald’s nickname when remembering that time. And that relationship also gets a reflective conversation - this time about Bobby’s concern with her present and future:

It’s just working in a dead-end job all day.

Well, you do more than just work there. You do manage the place… You’re doing a very responsible job.

Come off it. You’re the one who kicked up a stink me working there in the first place. I know you think I should be at uni getting a degree.

Bobby, I think you should be doing whatever you want to do. Give yourself some time. Give yourself some breathing space… Look, it’s still not too late to go to uni if that’s what you really want.

The way I feel at the moment I don’t think I could cope with it.

Of course you could. You could cope with anything. You’re a born survivor.

In less interesting news, Marilyn threatened to jump from atop the Macklin building if Andrew didn’t rescue her:

And in “could liven up a dull character” news, Viv’s father, Reverend John Newton, has just shown up:

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 356-358


The hiatuses taken by the veteran cast of the series fascinate me. Ray Meagher has commented in recent interviews that the powers that be on the series have been very good at writing him out for periods of time in order for him to travel and pursue other things he wants to do as an actor, from regular panto to Priscilla. And I believe he’s had more of these as the years have gone by, allowing him to remain a series regular for thirty two years while having an increasingly reduced workload. It’s a progressive approach, and a successful one because it makes commitment to a long-running series a more attractive prospect.

Alf’s not alone in having such gaps. Pippa had one not so long ago, which I’d guess was for Vanessa Downing to do either theatre or some singing work with The Madrigals. Morag has come and gone, of course. But perhaps the character to have had the most noticeable farewells and comebacks at this stage is Celia. It’s not necessarily that she’s been absent more than the others (although maybe she has). But Celia has previously had a number of scenes that felt very final, such as when she previously she left for an extended stay with her parents (with many of the more mature cast members being Stewarts, it’s canny of the writers to give them parents who live in Tahiti).

These few episodes have seen such scenes. Only this time, Celia’s going a little further. The wheels are set in motion by Celia’s recent crisis, which has been nipped in the bud by Ailsa’s gynaecologist (who no doubt would have been Dr Phil were he still around):

I was very relieved to find out it wasn’t the change of life. Of course, I knew I was far too young for that. So when the doctor told me it was simply a temporary hormonal imbalance, oh, I felt like dancing from the rooftops. It’s not all over, Ailsa. There’s still a chance for all sorts of adventures. Now that I have my health back and the insurance money, Alfred and I can start a new store that will really put Summer Bay on the map.

Why stop there? …It seems to me if you want adventures you ought to go out and find them. The world’s a great big place, Celia. Summer Bay’s only one tiny little part of it.

And so begins Celia thinking out loud to a number of characters. China’s out (“They’re fighting. I could get shot”). So is the U.S. (“Far too brash”). She wonders if Europe is safe with the fallout from Chernobyl to think about (Stacey reminds her that with Tahiti so close to Moruroa Atoll, not to mention Maralinga on home turf, she’s probably already glowing in the dark). Then there’s Ireland (“I’d have to remain in the South. It’s far too dangerous in the North… the IRA. But then the Southern part of Ireland is the papist part.”)

Evidently, Celia works things out. And she’s not slow to take action:

I’m going to Europe. Immediately. Well, as soon as I can get on a flight.

But you can’t.

Oh, it’s all right Alfred. There’s no danger. The radiation’s no worse there than it is here.

Celia, when did all this happen?

Just now.

This leads to a classic Alf angry rant about her leaving him in the lurch. Until Celia explains:

I’m seen as Summer Bay’s old maid…. Oh, I’ve tried to change my image but I sometimes suspect that that just makes me a laughing stock… All I’m seen as is your busybody spinster sister…

Recently I thought that my time had come. That all that part of my life was over. Well, I was wrong… I feel like I’ve been given a second chance. And I want to be able to say that there’s been more to my life than running a grocery store or making lamingtons for the church fete. Is that too much to ask?

No. No, course it’s not, sis. Not for my favourite sister. You go over there an’ you have the time of your life.

I’m not sure why Fiona Spence was going, but I do remember that a lot of the UK promotion for the series really kicked off after it had been running here for some months. So the timing could fit for that. And while I don’t think Fiona appeared in the Prisoner stage show until the following year, the TV series was becoming a phenomenon in the UK around this time. And the initial version of the stage show was touring at the same time So there are three good reasons why Fiona - as well as Celia - should want to be in Europe.

Whatever the case, I’ll miss her while she’s offscreen. Who knows, perhaps this is the last I’ll see of her before Amazon Prime episodes run out in around forty short instalments.

One aspect I won’t miss post-Prime is Lance and Martin. They’ve taken on a surreal turn recently by having fantasy sequences in which they morph into caveman costumes to perform new single Primeval Man (a terribly naff jingle that also happens to be a complete earworm. I've caught myself singing it around the house a couple of times in the last couple of days), as well as wearing said costumes out and about. They now have a name: Image. And despite Carly putting herself forward to be the group’s female lead (Nina refused, concerned that she would be viewed as exploiting Carly’s resemblance to Samantha), Marilyn has apparently stumbled into the diner at exactly the right time.

...continued​

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 356-358 (...continued)



Steven is a busy character at the moment. In light of his hefty fine, Pippa has talked him out of dipping into his trust fund and hinted that Tom would appreciate seeing Steven earn the money, an idea which he sees to fruition, and which Tom welcomes:

I’ve been thinking about bond money and I need you to give me a job. As a handyman round the caravan park. I don’t care how dirty the work is. Is that OK?

There's also Steven’s involvement in the business with Viv.

In his one full episode to date, Reverend John Newton has actually made Viv if not interesting then at least a little less deathly dull. And the odds were heavily stacked against that when Steven roped in Andrew to mediate (though in good news, Donald was also present). As any good counsellor would, Andrew proceeded to physically push Viv back down to her seat while telling Steven that hysteria wasn’t helpful. He then forced Viv to sit in a room with her father while questioning her.

Finally, there’s been a Viv scene in which she gained my empathy as a viewer. When her father - enabled by Andrew and Donald - emotionally blackmailed her by making her tell her little sister via telephone that she wouldn’t be returning home, Mouche Phillips did a nice job of having a one-sided difficult conversation while crying on cue. This is possibly something I could have done in my teens and early twenties when I was full of angst and hormones. All the same, I do admire actors who are able to do this under what I assume are fairly mechanical conditions.

Naturally, this convinces Viv to return home in order to protect her little sister, and there follows an enjoyably theatrical piece of intimidation in which her father goes all Joshua Rush on her before locking her in the cupboard under the stairs:

Oh, you’re a wicked girl, Aviva. And evil people must be punished. Honour thy father and thy mother. That’s what the Lord commands. But you haven’t honoured me, Aviva. You have defiled my name to any who’d listen. And you have failed to thank me for doing the Lord’s will. In failing me, you have failed him. And now both of us must punish you again. May the Lord have mercy on you, Aviva.

John Gregg is great fun as the villain of the piece. He has the perfect lean, angular, authoritative, clinical quality that makes me think of Hunchback’s Judge Claude Frollo, and this is helped greatly by the environment he’s given - presumably a rectory - which feels established and masculine. That hall looks like it could be a warm, welcoming environment to most, but something about it also gets across Viv’s trepidation.

Meanwhile, Steven’s concern - dismissed by most - gives Pippa a fleeting reference to similar events that took place over a year earlier:

He was right about Sandra Barlow.

Dodge’s apathy towards Viv’s disappearance has brought him into conflict with Steven, and after a couple of small fallouts, Dodge has to do some fast talking to repair the damage.

You’re a stirrer… I’m fed up with you knocking everyone. Always putting other people down.

You know I’m no good at expressin’ meself. An’ what I’m gonna say is probably gonna make me sound like a bit of a wimp, but bein’ your mate is somethin’ important. I’ve never met no-one like you… You’re the only real mate I’ve ever had. An’ I don’t wanna lose ya.

What’s great about these scenes is the ambiguity. Even with the benefit of hindsight and knowledge that Steven doesn’t have, it’s really hard to tell how much of this is Dodge keeping Steven on side for his own benefit, and how much of it is truth.

This ambiguity goes off the chart after Dodge rescues his arch enemy Sally from drowning - an incident in which young Kate Ritchie evidently did all her own stunts!!

As he tells Steven afterwards:

Lucky it wasn’t very deep. Never learnt to swim.

In the afterglow of warmth and relief that comes from it, Dodge is apparently moved to make a significant confession:

You’ve been really nice to me. I’ve never had a family before and I don’t really know how to handle it, but I reckon I should be straight with ya. Sal blames me for things goin’ wrong round here an’ maybe she’s right. I haven’t tried with this family. Not as hard as I could’ve. So I reckon I oughta come clean. There’s somethin’ I wanna tell ya… it wasn’t Stevo who crashed the car. It was me. An’ if you can forgive me for lettin’ him take the rap, I promise I’ll never lie to you again.

And he opens up about his past:

I still don’t know where you come from, do I? What’s the real story?

We lived in a dead end street. None of the other kids were allowed to have anythin’ to do with me ‘cause my Mum was a drunk… I had a couple o’ younger brother an’ sisters too. Well, half brothers an’ sisters.

Where are they now, your brothers and sisters?

Dunno. Dunno where my Mum is, either. I got home one day an’, all of ‘em had just disappeared.

What about your Dad?

What Dad? I never had one. Not that I knew of, anyway. Don’t think me Mum knew who he was either. One of my “uncles”, I s’pose.

Given Dodge’s history and self-confessed tendency to change his own history whenever he’s asked, it’s hard to know where he’s coming from here. Steven also has doubts and verifies the story with Pippa who confirms it to be what she was told by Miss Molloy (she’s indulged his fictitious accounts because she thought he needed them to feel better about himself).

Between the confession and Dodge’s sharing his past truthfully (if selectively) Steven feels compelled to do all he can to ensure Tom and Pippa don’t tell the authorities about Dodge’s part in the car accident (which they were on the verge of doing). Is the truth setting Dodge free? Or is he very cleverly still playing a game in which he will be the only winner?

 

[Spells & Karma]

Episodes 359-364


So far, episodes from August 1989 are helping me feel very much at peace with the fact that there are only around 35 episodes outstanding from those available on Prime. The series still has its moments, but there are also great chunks of the series which feel like meaningless, inconsequential filler. My most recently watched episode - #364 - has the dubious honour of being perhaps the most uninteresting episode of the entire series to date.

Pippa’s recent mention of Sandra Barlow has proven to be somewhat providential. The storyline with Viv’s abusive father has turned out to be at times a cartoony replaying of some key points in the Barlow storyline, with Steven as the rescuer and the heroine (then Sandra, now Viv) being rescued from their locked bedroom by an ally in the house (then Kerry, now Tamar).

The current version, though, lacks intensity and tension. Reverend Newton doesn’t feel so much an enduring threat as he does a temporary obstacle to boo and hiss. But John Gregg has such a class to him that it’s entirely forgivable. He remains fun to watch. When forcing Viv to cook but not allowing her to eat the food (as penance for her mortal sin of leaving a ring of dirt round the shower), the Rev has also had the best line in recent weeks:

Better an empty stomach than the wrath of God.

Bobby and Steven show up on the doorstep in a bid to rescue Viv and her sister:

We’re leaving and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Oh, you’re going all right. In fact I insist upon it. You are no daughter of mine anymore. If you ever were. Oh, I have prayed for you, Aviva. I have fought with the devils within you since you were born… I have fought for your soul, and I have lost. You are beyond redemption. But now you have started to corrupt Tamar. Leading her down the paths into wickedness. And I will not have it. You will get out now… And you will never see your sister again.

And left alone with Tamar:

So. It’s all starting again. First your mother. Then Aviva. Now you. Bad blood, all of you.

Tamar, by the way, is played by one of those child actresses who’s very good at looking permanently worried or troubled. Rather like Danielle Harris from the Halloween sequels that were being made at this time.


While waiting to rescue Tamar, Bobby’s theme plays as she chats to Viv in the car:

I do know how you feel. Only I hated my Dad all the time. An’ it made it worse when we all found out my Mum had cancer. He didn’t give a damn.

Didn’t you have anyone to talk to?

No. But I didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway. So I just kept all my feelings to myself.

I guess I’m kinda lucky having Tammy.

Yeah, I reckon you are.

Naturally, they rescue Tamar after Bobby locks the Reverend in the cupboard under his stairs, just as he had both his daughters:

Teen soap instant karma. The kids get one over on the mean adult. It's like something a cute Disney sidekick would do towards the end of the film.

Viv and Tamar end up guests of Donald. Howard West - Miss Molloy’s social services associate, last seen bringing Dodge to live with the Fletchers - now ends up next door to chat with Donald and his guests, as well as the Rev himself, who may not have fooled Donald, but makes up for it by manipulating his youngest daughter:

I can only hope that Tamar will listen to God. Let him guide her.

Long story short, Tamar ends up going back to live with her father:

This means Donald is stuck with Viv. Which means we are also stuck with her. I can’t help feeling Miss Molloy would have given us a happier ending. I believe Reverend Newton is gone for good, which is something of a shame. He was written very broadly but played wonderfully. In many ways he's too big a character for the series. His threat feels almost superhuman, and so lacks the intimacy that's most effective. But the same could also be said for Morag in her intitial appearances, and look how that turned out. I'd like to have seen more of the Rev.

A one-to-one scene between he and Donald proved interesting to watch for subtext. It’s not spoken, or even suggested, but I couldn’t help thinking that the Rev’s current role in the series is similar to that of Donald himself in the earliest days of the show. The strict authoritarian who is willing to go to extremes to achieve the desired result. It's a reminder of the Donald who found the Fletchers' foster brood a source of contempt. In turn, that proved a reminder of the very different Donald we see on screen today: warm and avuncular. Increasingly called “Dad” by one Bobby Simpson. And now technically a foster parent himself.

continued...​