The time may have finally come for me to apply for an AARP card. 2000 babies are 18 and headed off to college. If that weren’t a neon sign that my youth is coming to an end, interrupting my soaps and #Cin viewing pleasure is another because I get as cranky as an old lady. Let me enjoy Ciara Alice Brady and a serial killer falling in love without the endless “we have to interrupt the regularly scheduled program to bring you this….”
Usually, these interruptions have to do with President Donald Trump and the Russia investigation. Every breathless detail, even just to give an update on the last one, have cut into Days of Our Lives just as Ben and Ciara’s bond is forming. Contrary to popular belief, liking my “stories” as the old folks would say doesn’t mean that I’m not an informed constituent. C-SPAN, CNN, MSNBC, FOX, push notifications and the streaming era serve me quite well. Therefore, there’s no need for the networks to cut into the soap operas to tell me what I’ve heard about 100 different times before Days of Our Lives airs. Unless of course there is collusion…..
At this point, I’m almost convinced the networks are working with head writers and EP’s of the soaps to get the remaining shows cancelled; what the OJ Simpson and his trial of the century failed to do, bad storytelling is going to usher out the final four serial dramas that are left standing. The ridiculous plots and declining viewership as a result will most likely dull the outrage once all the soaps are cancelled.
How else does one reconcile these arcs? Victoria’s domestic abuse, badly told to begin with, has become a parody on Y&R and ripping off Passions. At the very least, our dearly departed James Rilley creation never pretended to take itself seriously. I hold Bill Bell’s show to a higher standard (and yes I know that he dabbled in camp as well). Sister serial Bold is no better. Aside from ring around the rosy on Liam’s disco stick, there’s a random British girl who is talking to a cat. Brooke, Thorne and Macy were giving me heart palpitations when I used to churn butter back in the day and now a cat is supposedly must see TV. As for GH, so much could be said. Too much but dropping the ball on Steve Burton’s return as Jason is a low down dirty shame.
The only ray of light in the midst of all this embarrassment has been Days. The writer may not get all 10’s for his vision (Stefan has to go. Rafe must go and take Brady & Eve with him), but Ron Carlivati’s stewardship over the show has kept me entertained for the most part. Gabi is taking a wrecking ball to Abigail’s life, Brady’s about to get exposed by a returning Nicole but the cherry on top is #Cin. The soap press may not understand the ground shifting beneath them but the people have spoken.
Suddenly, I’m 17 again; bored at home and getting caught up in a taboo romance. Bo and Hope’s daughter should not be drawn to a savage. His kink was choking the good people of Salem with neck ties. It’s refreshing that DAYS has resisted the urge to whitewash him through a brain tumor, twin, clone or pretend that none of it happened. He could’ve also blamed the devil but that’s only reserved for Queen Marlena.
Ciara isn’t being written as a doe eyed lamb being led to slaughter. She knows he’s a killer and his violent past isn’t really ideal for a young woman who is a victim of rape. Ideally, she should be with someone like Tripp. It makes sense on paper. But on-screen, it’s like watching paint dry. The energy is with Ben and Ciara. Judge me accordingly for preferring a serial killer to other alternatives.
Robert Scott Wilson and Victoria Konefal just ooze chemistry. A simple look and touch are more intimate than the actual love scenes of other couples.
Maybe investigations need to be held about what kind of shit we’re into once the channel is turned. My Google search will turn up too much Mariah Carey, tips on natural hair and lyrics to gospel hymns. I’m too saved to ever want to hurt a fly but beyond that, I don’t mind watching a gifted actor give a psycho empathy which is what Robert Scott Wilson does with Ben Weston. He takes so much care in showing the push and pull of his character’s psychosis and wanting to do better. To be better for a woman who makes him feel. His Cee R Uh. I just love how he says her name.
Dramas have rehabilitated killers, rapists and abusers of all stripes; revamped them into leading men and ladies who are now as soft as Build A Bear toys. The trick is not to insult the audience. It’s a fine line between redemption and shoving a character that just doesn’t work down our throats. I get why some feel that Ben doesn’t deserve that same consideration but he and Ciara are must see TV for me; a bit of escapism from the news cycle and crazy headlines.
Let me #Cin in peace.