Rate Those Cliffhanger Resolutions: The Return of Fall Television

Last spring I discussed some of the season-ending cliffhangers I had watched.  While I’m underwhelmed overall with fall television, I decided I’d rate a few of the shows returning from last year.  In my next post I’ll weigh in on some of the new dramas that hit the scene this year and predict their longevity (a fun little game that often finds me being anything but prophetic).

Scandal (A):  Scandal won the award for the best season finale last year (in my opinion) and I think it also offered the best return.  The second season ended with the Defiance scandal officially being put to rest (David saved the day by turning the Cytron card over to Cyrus for a promotion to USDA), but quickly another scandal arose in its wake.  The episode ended with Olivia on a morning jog being bombarded by reporters questioning her about her affair with the president.  If this shocking moment wasn’t enough, Rowan (the big, scary secret B613 military boss) arrived on the scene and viewers learned that he is Olivia’s father.   The opener of season three had a lot to resolve.  Olivia’s team of Gladiators have to clear her name by working with Cyrus and Mellie to frame an innocent woman as Fitz’s mistress.  (The second episode of the season then finds Liv representing this woman as her fixer). And after the mystery of who leaked Olivia’s name to the press is revealed (it was the president himself who wanted to free Olivia from Mellie’s looming threats), this cliffhanger crisis is resolved and viewers are left to contemplate the Rowan/B613 plot.  The first few episodes of this season start to reveal more of Liv’s backstory and this problematic daddy-daughter relationship explains the problems she has had with the men in her life (or, as I’ve discussed in past posts, her surprisingly/seemingly anti-feminist hang-ups).   As the season stretches on, Liv gets her father to release Jake from “the hole” and his return to the show, along with Huck’s new knowledge of who Rowan really is, and a new B613-related scandal that (surprise, surprise) threatens the presidency, fuels the trajectory of the season to come.  Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, Lisa Kudrow joined the cast as a potential female challenger for the presidency.

The Good Wife (A-):  Last season ended with the main character, Alicia Florrick’s, husband, Peter, being elected Governor.   The final scene was set-up to lead viewers to believe that they were about to see her meet with her law partner, and former lover, Will Garner, to renew their affair.  Instead, it is revealed that she will be leaving her law firm (likely to prevent herself from embarking again in said affair).  While the resolution of this specific set-up was just so-so in the season premier, and a bit drawn out thereafter, the first episode itself was stellar.  In its traditional episodic fashion the one hour show focused around one specific law case:  the lawyers at Lockhart-Gardner are racing against the clock to save a man from a death row execution.  In one of the most fast-paced, suspenseful, skillfully edited episode to date, the law team successfully stays the prisoner’s execution.  In the back drop of all this action, the cliffhanger-related storyline stretches on as Alicia and the 4^th year associates still plan to leave the firm.  It is the following few episodes that really help develop this plot into a worthy cliffhanger-resolution as their actions are slowly uncovered.  In a nicely done parallel storyline, where Diane is asked to leave the firm after giving a public interview (to secure her pending judge appointment) that paints her partner, and long-term friend, Will, in a bad light, it is she who ultimately informs Will of Alicia’s betrayal (the fall out of which will be seen in tomorrow’s episode).  With a new law firm rivalry and a plethora of damaged relationships, there is ample material for a rich season.

The Walking Dead (B+):  When last we saw the survivors of the zombie apocalypse they had just witnessed the death of their friend (and original cast member), Andrea, and were returning to their prison compound with a bus full of refuges from the Governor’s dismantled utopic city.  The season starts months later.  The new expanded community at the prison is functioning happily and all seems calm.  Rick has stepped down from his leadership role, tending to the prison’s garden and food supply instead, and a leadership council is governing in his place.  The tranquility of the episode is a slight let down after the action-packed cliffhanger finale, however, it does what it is intended to do – lulls viewers into a few moments of false security before dropping the proverbial second shoe (which any savvy viewer surely expected).  The episode ends with the death of a teenage boy who succumbs to a flu-like virus.  As his dead body lands in the shower stall just feet away from open cellblock doors where the other residents sleep blissfully unaware that a walker is about to be born, viewers end the episode with the sense of foreboding that the show is known for.  The next episode promises death… and death it delivers.  With this mystery plague threatening the survivors from within the compound (and a rogue figure killing off those he/she believes may be the next to fall ill and turn), and an increased zombie presence threatening the walled security of their prison compound, viewers expect that the status quo is about to be disrupted and the survivors are likely going to be on the run again searching for the series’ next setting change.   

Nashville (B):  Last season ended with Rayna’s longtime friend, and former-now-reunited lover, Deacon, discovering that she had been lying to him for years about his child, passing her off as another man’s daughter.  This event causes him to spin into an alcoholic tailspin, ending 13 years of sobriety, that contributed to a car crash that leaves him and Rayna strewn across the pavement.  In a slightly anti-climatic fashion, the first episode of this season starts weeks after the accident as Deacon awaits prosecution (claiming to have been driving the car, when he had not been, as a sort of self-inflicted punishment).  Meanwhile, Rayna has existed in an induced coma since the accident and her family and friends wait eagerly for her recovery.  (Fans, like myself, I imagine, waited in much less anticipation being that it would make absolutely no sense to kill off the star of this show).  In a move completely fitting to her character, Juliette capitalizes on Rayna’s injury by playing one of Rayna’s hit songs and holding a candlelight vigil in front of the hospital.  Rayna, of course, recovers, Deacon is set free, and the episode is over.  While the episode itself was not particularly thrilling, the following few episodes seem to indicate a promising season.  The first tease was the potential career-ending injuries suffered by both Rayna and Deacon (the former has already recovered).  New characters are breathing life into the cast and providing soapy-storyline possibilities.  The new head of the record company is a character one loves to hate, the arrival of a new country upstart, Layla Grant (who wants to steal Juliette’s fan base and win Will’s heart), hints at many conflicts to come, and the addition of Scarlett’s childhood best friend, Zoey, sets up for a (somewhat predictable) love triangle involving Scarlett’s ex, Gunnar.

Revenge (B-): Last season ended with the revelation that Conrad Grayson was working with a terrorist group and his actions resulted in the death of Declan Porter (the father of his daughter’s unborn child); Victoria Grayson’s long lost son returned on her doorstep; Nolan was wrongly arrested for cyber terrorism; and Emily Thorne was forced to reveal her true identity (Amanda Clarke) to her childhood friend and soul mate, Jack Porter, so that he wouldn’t murder Conrad as retaliation for the deaths of his brother and wife.  In its typical pattern, this season started with a quick flashforward to the end of the season (Emily, apparently, getting shot on her wedding day), and then returned to May, just before the Memorial Weekend festivities that kick off summer in the Hamptons.  When the season starts it is months after the events from the last episode, a temporal narrative device that I always find undoes much of the cliffhanger excitement.  Conrad is enjoying his post as governor, Victoria is happily reunited with her son, Nolan is released from prison, Jack is off sailing in unknown parts, Charlotte returns from a summer abroad (after having miscarried Declan’s baby), and Emily & Daniel are planning their wedding.  A relatively slow start to the season.  But that doesn’t last all that long.  Emily’s revenge scheme quickly pushes Conrad out of office (after having him misdiagnosed with a terminal illness), Jack returns to blackmail Emily (finish your revenge by the end of this summer “or else”), and within a few episodes Aiden returns and viewers are left to wonder if he’s there to take down Emily or help her in her quest for vengeance (it’s the latter, or it was… for a while at least).  With two new characters, Victoria’s son and Daniel’s new female work partner, some new plot possibilities exist, but the series remains much of the same… only a bit darker than it once was which is ruining some of the camp appeal it once had for me.   

Grey’s Anatomy (C):  Last year ended with one of Grey’s traditional catastrophe episodes; a storm resulted in a slew of injuries and found the hospital in blackout conditions.  The show’s namesake, Meredith Grey, had to have a C-section without power and almost bled out due to other complications.  With most of tragedy averted, the show ended with a romantic cliffhanger (Kepner professed her love for Avery) and a tear-jerker:  Dr. Richard Webber saved the hospital (restoring the electricity) but had (apparently) lost his life in the process.  (The final shot was of him lying on the basement floor, seeming to have been electrocuted).  The romantic cliffhanger was resolved within minutes (Avery wasn’t interested and Kepner changed her mind anyhow).   The tear-jerker, Richard’s supposed death, was resolved by the episode’s end, but any seasoned viewer figured it out the minute an intern was sent to look for him and was also electrocuted.  Two people in peril?  Who’s going to die:  the original cast member or the newbie?  Yep, the newbie.  The episode, like most of the catastrophe-follow-up episodes, was touching; it was nice to see everyone rally around Richard, but the resulting episodes dealing with Heather’s (the intern’s) death was relatively unemotional.  (The series acknowledged through that cohort’s inability to really mourn her loss that the character development of those interns is still severely lacking – although not nearly as bad as the short-lived doctors from the hospital merger years back who were killed off during the catastrophe mass shooting episode).  The show’s melodramatic roots are being stressed as the season unfolds:  best friends Cristina and Meredith bicker; estranged Callie and Arizona finalize their break up; Alex crosses paths with his abusive father.  Nothing groundbreaking… but sometimes there is comfort in the familiar patterns of a favorite show.

So while none of these cliffhanger resolutions will go down as my all time favorites, it was nice to sit down and once again get lost in my familiar narratives.  Each of the above shows are holding my interest and making me look forward to the season they have laid out before me – which is more than I can say for some of the new shows launched this year.  (But that’s the next post).

Portrayals of Women on Sitcoms: From I Love Lucy to Trophy Wife (a Historical Overview of Televisual Femininity)

                              

So I don’t really like sitcoms all that much.  My recent years spent analyzing complex, postmodern dramas (combined for my love of serials of all sorts) has severely impacted my ability to enjoy 30-minute stand alone episodes meant to inspire cheap laughs (or episodic shows more generally).  The wave of reality television almost killed off sitcoms during the first decade of the 21^st century and of the few that persevered throughout this period I found only two entertaining enough to follow.  CBS’s How I Met Your Mother (2005-present) reminded me of the next generation’s Friends (although Neil Patrick Harris at times single-handedly supplied the show’s comedic content).  And ABC’s Modern Family (2009-present) seemed to be a show that could possibly break new ground (but instead it problematically reinforced stereotypes at every turn).  If I could go back in time I’d also follow The Big Bang Theory (CBS, 2007-present) because I believe it will likely go down as one of the better sitcoms of this decade. 

As we head into “the teens,” sitcoms are again big (especially on network television where the bottom line is making stations fearful of high-cost dramas).  So ever the dutiful television scholar I decided I’d record the first few episodes of some of the new sitcoms launched this fall.  And after two weeks, I am underwhelmed (to say the least).  My inability to fall in love with at least a few of these sitcoms is perplexing to some degree because as a child of the 80s I grew up consuming an endless diet of these delights.  Also, in my early studies I analyzed how situational comedies (at different times) had been an unexpected friend or foe of feminism.  So I have always valued their ability to act as distorted fun house mirrors reflecting societal trends, values, fears, and desires.   When I was reflecting on this the other day I realized that may be exactly why I cannot get into these new sitcoms:  I don’t understand what they are saying about society today.  Specifically, as a feminist media scholar, I’m not sure what to do with new shows like ABC’s Trophy Wife and Super Fun Night.   In order to understand my confusion, we need to look back at previous televisual decades and their portrayals of women.

           

The 50s

Even from its very beginning, the medium of television was tied to a gender war from which it would never seem to escape.  As early as 1948, television manufacturers had already determined that women were a primary consumer and hence targeted them with countless advertisements in home and fashion magazines and even through the radio.  The ideology behind these ads was clear:  women should be content within the domestic realm (after all, home is where the heart is) and the presence of a shiny new television could ensure that the family within that sphere would be united and happy despite the social and sexual divisions still strictly intact.  Many have argued that television contributed to women’s domestication, but this very same medium also empowered female viewers through the consumption of enjoyable products and positive depictions of femininity. The interesting thing is how the same medium, even the same program, was able to disseminate such contradictory messages simultaneously. Television scholars have noted that figures like Gracie Allen, Lucile Ball, and, later, Mary Tyler Moore became some of the earliest feminist role models and that their performances provided opportunities for critiques of patriarchy, appreciation of women’s agency, and audience pleasure.  Patricia Mellencamp views the laughter they voiced, and induced, as a “tactic of survival, ensuring sanity, the triumph of the ego, and pleasure; after all, Gracie and Lucy were narcissistically rebellious, refusing ‘to be hurt.’” However, these chuckles did not come without a price – comedy often replaced anger. 

The 60s

As images broadcasted across television screens became less blurry, so did the image of femininity.  The static was clearing up and women were coming across the screen just as they were “meant to be” – as ideal depictions of femininity.  Prime-time shows like Father Knows Best (1954-1962), Leave it to Beaver (1957-1963), Bewitched (1964-1972), I Dream of Jeannie (1965-1970), and The Brady Bunch (1969-1974) jump start this televisual period with visions of women that would no longer fit by the time the sixties ceased. 

The eclectic grouping of television shows listed above demonstrates the ways in which seemingly diverse programs were actually providing viewers with very similar lessons in femininity.  These five popular programs can be seen as existing on a continuum not only historically (based on their air dates) but also conceptually in terms of the way television depicted the American family.  In the earliest television shows (like Father Knows Best and Leave it to Beaver), the “traditional” so-called nuclear family was foregrounded.  As those early programs went off the air, other popular shows replaced them by making one (not necessarily small) variation in their conceptual set up – mysticism entered into the mix.  Programs like Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie kept the basic nuclear family notion intact but made that traditional family fall into the realm of the supernatural.  (This variation is clearer in Bewitched since the fictional family does contain a married couple and their child.  However, the same basic shift can be seen in I Dream of Jeannie even though the childless couple only acts as if they are married).  The final alteration of the fictional family structure as seen in these early programs came in the form of the blended family.  The Brady Bunch serves as an example of the programming that would replace earlier sitcoms with a family unit that would prove more enduring (and realistic) than the supernatural television families that preceded it.  What is important is that all of these programs, despite some obvious contextual differences, offered up the same repetitive feminine ideal through their lead female character. Regardless of their role – the women in these shows all most definitely required their male counterpart to ensure their sitcom-friendly happy endings and televised smiles.  Quite simply, television during this period reinforced traditional gender norms.

While these shows were coming to a close and fading off air, the actual events of the feminist movement were finding their way on.  Just as television brought other social activism into the secluded living rooms of suburbia (the Civil Rights movement, anti-war activism), the decade of peace, love, and flower power brought a new mediated focus onto women’s liberation.  The effect of these various images, be they fictional (seen as hyper-sexualized hippie chicks) or real (as in the rampant televisual footage of bra burning and women on the frontline of other social activism), eventually affected the familiar portrayal of gender relations on the nightly line up.  To be clear, the television shows of this time period, although affected by the political climate surrounding them, did not perfectly mirror what was happening off-screen.  In fact, during this period of early television programming, there was a sort of lag between what was occurring in the real world and what was being broadcast via fictional programming.  (This slow response time would correct itself throughout the coming decades.)   Nonetheless, by the time the seventies  were in full swing the juxtaposition of television narrative and female imagery was completely different. 

The 70s

The seventies is often considered the decade of socially relevant programming with shows like The Mod Squad (1968-1973), All in the Family (1971-1979) and M*A*S*H (1972-1983) leading the way (Bodroghkozy 227).  It is also the decade that recast women as figures of empowerment and control with as much loyalty to their on-screen “sisters” as to the members of the opposite sex they were paired up with, pitted against, or sworn to protect.  Charlotte Brunsdon categorizes many of these programs as “heroine television,” a category that would encapsulate the traditional empowering laughter of the comedienne and the emergent feminist hijacking of the detective/drama genre. Mary Tyler Moore (1970-1977) soars to popularity in the fashion of predecessor Lucy and shows like Maude (1972-1978), Rhoda (1974-1978), Laverne and Shirley (1976-1978), and Charlie’s Angels soon follow after (1976-1981). In the spirit of women’s liberation, these shows feature women in non-traditional roles and continued to stir the pot of controversial topics, such as Maude’s bold move to have the first ever prime-time abortion in 1972, which outraged the nation (Joyrich 100). Of course, these empowering representations of women were not without their imperfections.  Julie D’Acci points out that “from the mid-1970s to the early 1980s, female sex objects dominated the TV landscape in what is often called the ‘jiggle’ era, or the industry’s noneuphemistic tag ‘T & A’ period” (104).  So although figures of the powerful women were dashing across the screens they were doing so scantily clad – cleavage shirts, daisy dukes and all.  Clearly, television’s brilliance is that it succeeds in simultaneously reinforcing and destroying standard gender stereotypes through a variety of popular programming consumed by the multitudes.  These diverse programs (with their similar contradictory feminist/anti-feminist messages) then affect (on some level) television’s large viewing population, making this audio/visual medium extremely powerful in terms of its role in supplying hegemonic gender lessons. The re-sexualization of women was only the beginning of what Susan Faludi would term “the backlash.”  The mass media was sending out its contradictory message that the women’s movement had been successfully completed but yet these new found winners of the war were confronted by incessant images of women (“who had made it”) “suffering ‘burnout’ and succumbing to an ‘infertility epidemic’” and a supposed “‘man shortage’” (Faludi ix).  While these motifs hit women from one side, another blow was coming from a whole new direction; the sitcom that had previously been a friend of feminism seemingly bought into the “post” mindset and abandoned it for a surprising (or, considering the political regime, not so surprising) conservative swing to the right, resulting in the role-reversal shows.

The 80s

The sitcoms of the eighties were rather blunt in their message to women:  “okay you wanted out of the home and into the workforce, voila, there you have it and look at how well your family is functioning without you.”  Shows like Charles in Charge (1984-1990), Who’s the Boss (1984-1992), My Two Dads (1987-1990), and Full House (1987-1997) featured caring, compassionate Mr. Mom figures toting the motherhood role with unwavering success.  But the family focus was symptomatic of the eighties, with Family Ties (1982-1989) and The Cosby Show (1984-1992) resting comfortably high in the Nielson ratings for most the decade.  Besides for this obvious re-functioning of the family, the politics behind this decade that bred the yuppie are hard to miss.

Some of the most popular shows of this (“post-feminist”) period were really working to renegotiate the time periods they had just endured.  I would say that as a whole this is what the medium of television is always trying to do, only in later decades it speeds ahead to a point where it is actually trying to renegotiate the period in which it is still in.  Concerning this practice, Aniko Bodroghkozy reads The Wonder Years as working to soften “the turmoil of the sixties by nostalgically representing the period through the experiences of a prepubescent boy living in generic suburbia-land;” a world in which “the political and social turmoil so fundamental to America in the 1960s seldom intruded on the gentle world of” its central family.  Likewise, she claims that Family Ties “renegotiated the sixties by taking the premise of All in the Family (…) turning it upside down.”  And thirtysomething too explored “how one – or whether one – could maintain ‘sixties values’ in a reactionary political climate” (Bodroghkozy 241).  Moreover, focusing specifically on gender politics, one cannot overlook thirtysomething’s post-feminist vision of the home to which women have ‘freely’ chosen to return.  This “vision” is an obvious product of, and response to, the times in which the show was created.  These shows were not simply entertaining the masses during this decade, they were dictating a conservative ideology in a time period of re-setting. 

The 90s

The next decade found depictions of femininity bouncing back from the detrimental restraints of the mid-eighties.  Murphy Brown (1988-1998) went up against Dan Quayle for the rights of single mothers in America, Oprah (1986-2011) became an African-American feminist icon whose influence would reverberate for over two decades, Ellen (1994-1998) broke ground by coming out both on and off screen exposing the nation to issues of gay rights in weekly thirty minute segments, and Roseanne (1988-1997) questioned normative definitions of female sexuality, body image, and familial arrangements – giving birth to the notion of the “domestic goddess.”.

The 00s

During the early years of the 21^st century blended genres rose in popularity and attracted female viewers.  Many of these concoctions (many which were sitcom-soap opera hybrids) critiqued hegemonic depictions of traditional femininity.  This can be seen in shows like HBO’s Sex in the City (1998-2004) and Desperate Housewives (2004-2012).

The 10s

 And that brings us to today and to my opening mention of ABC’s two new sitcoms.  This fall brought viewers Trophy Wife starring Malin Ackerman.  In this show she plays a familiar role (much like one she played in 27 Dresses) – the pretty, ditzy blonde.  The variation is that this pretty, ditzy blonde is married to a twice divorced rich lawyer and becomes an unlikely step mother to his children from the two previous marriages.  The makers of the show were quick to clarify that the show is meant to be ironic in that she is not the typical trophy wife – she can’t cook and struggles in all of her attempts to parent.  Much of the comedy comes from her bumbling efforts to fulfill her new roles as wife and mother (and more so in the contrasting, highly stereotypic portrayals of the other ex-wives).  Of all the sitcoms I tried out this season, I find this one to be at least mildly interesting (but I’ve been known to watch Cougar Town so please don’t take this as ringing endorsement).  The problem, of course, is how the show focuses explicitly on Kate’s (Ackerman’s) physical appearance.  In the first episode she is referred to as a “MILF” and in the second episode ex-wife #1 accuses her to be the sexual fantasy that has prompted her son (Kate’s stepson) to write a piece of erotic fiction.  (It was, in fact, written about a fellow peer).

Another sitcom launched this year gets its humor by focusing on the female body.  While Trophy Wife puts Kate’s highly sexualized, perfect body at center stage, Super Fun Night casts the spotlight on a very different body type.  Rebel Wilson plays Kimmie and, following in line with her previous roles, her plus-sized body becomes the punch line for the narrative.  (This is not unlike her role in Pitch Perfect, for example, where she plays “Fat Amy” – a name she bestows upon herself, as her character explains, so “twig bitches” can’t call her it behind her back).  While the show casts her pretty girl rival, Kendall, in a horribly unflattering light, making viewers root for the underdog Kimmie to win (the man in terms of the show’s longer plot arch, and a singing competition in the first episode), it still gets its laugh at her expense as she runs through the office in search of jelly donuts or ends up in her girdle-like underwear after an elevator door incident.  Instead of simply casting a plus-sized actress to star in a show about professional and personal quests, the show focuses specifically on her body – again proving that there are limited roles available to women of a certain size.    

If all the previous decades of scripted television had something to say about women, what will this one have to reveal?  Are we returning to a time where the female body (and not the female character) must be the focus of televisual sitcoms?  Quite obviously this sample is too narrow and the decade too young to make such claims, but I fear that this television era is not going to prove to be overly progressive in terms of feminist portrayals of women.  So, if this is the case, I guess I’m left with this lingering thought:  welcome back sitcoms… you can go away again if you want.  

ZERØ HOUR: A Glimpse into how Religious Extremism & Technological Advancement Could Make for a Scary Combination

It’s too early to chime in yet on the Fall debuts and returns (I’ll save that for next month), so instead today I want to spend a few minutes discussing one of the casualties of last year’s television season.  ABC’s ZERØ HOUR (2013) was a one of the earliest promoted dramas of the 2012-2013 season, despite the fact that it was not even set to launch until February 2013 as a mid-season replacement.  (This was perhaps the first nail in the series’ coffin).  The promotional material was vague, but intriguing, and the show landed a strong male lead in Anthony Edwards (who played the beloved “Goose” in Top Gun and the long-term fan favorite, Dr. Mark Greene on ER).  When the show finally launched I thought it had some good potential, although I sensed its early demise early on when pacing problems (coupled with the Lost-esque plight of trying to walk the difficult tightrope between developing a complicated series-long mystery and not alienating viewers with implausible scenarios and too many unanswered questions) were evident.  But it wasn’t until well after it was canceled that the show hit its sweet spot, revealing a narrative that would have been a novelty on network television.  ZERØ HOUR ultimately wove an intriguing plot that forced viewers to contemplate what would happen if religious extremists stumbled upon the most advanced scientific technology to date.  But, alas, the show didn’t start there and didn’t get there in nearly enough time to ensure itself a second season. 

So where did it start?  The opening minutes of the series flashed back to 1938 Nazi Germany where a group of priests had gathered to move and hide a mysterious religious relic that they feared could bring about the end of the world if captured by Hitler.   The show then shifted to its modern day narrative arch.  The main plot began by focusing on Hank Gallistan (Anthony Edwards), the owner of Modern Skeptic (a magazine specializing, fittingly, on investigating conspiracy theories).  Not long into the pilot episode Hank’s wife, Laila, is abducted from her clock repair shop.  This event starts the first segment of the show:  a scavenger-hunt-like race around the world to rescue Laila (and, as a result, solve an ancient mystery and capture a well known terrorist).  In a previous post I called this show a modern day version of National Treasure and it did have that flavor.  Hank and his team of young magazines, along with an FBI agent with a grudge against the man who captured Laila, White Vincent (he was thought to have killed her husband), begin to solve riddles housed in clues within ancient clocks scattered across the globe.  Among other surprises, this adventure brings them face to face with some inexplicable things, most notably the frozen corpse of a Nazi solider preserved in a submarine in the Antarctic… a corpse who is an exact double of Hank.  Finally they collect all the clocks, rescue Laila, and then the narrative morphs into its next focus (following the revelation that Laila is not who they think she is).

Slowly the mystery that drives the series is revealed.   The twelve clue-containing clocks were hidden by the Twelve New Apostles (the priests seen in the opening moments of the series).  The item that they were hiding (the item that could only be found by piecing together the clues found in these twelve clocks) was the original cross that Jesus Christ was crucified on.  A hunt for a religious relic – not a unique premise for a narrative (Indiana Jones, anyone?) but that, of course, was only half of the mystery. 

Hank et al. learn that Laila is really a (…wait for it…) nun with a shady past, who is working for the Rosicrucians, a group of Christian mystics dating back to the 17th century.  The Rosicrucians (later referred to in slang as “the Angels”), who are trying to prevent the cross from falling into the hands of “The Pirates” (the group for which White Vincent works).  These modern day “pirates” are actually religious extremists, hiding under the front of an organization called The 41 Trust – a nonprofit organization known for their philanthropy.   In truth, their charitable acts are actually masking their unethical scientific experiments – the most horrific being the continuation of “Project Zero Hour,” a human cloning study began by the Nazis.  (The cloning aspect of the show, which should have been evident from Hank’s first encounter with his double on the submarine, was also foreshadowed with other footage that showed both he and Vincent as WWII German soldiers and later as 1970s inmates in an insane asylum).  The head of the 41 Trust, Melannie Lynch (referred to as “Mother”), is after the cross so that she can scientifically bring about “the second coming” by cloning Jesus.   

Viewers learn that Hank and Vincent, modern day foes, are clones of the two WWII Nazi soldiers – best friends who “parted ways” (Hank’s original killed Vincent’s original) after they disagreed with what to do with the crucifix (during the Apostle’s efforts to hide it from the Third Reich).  Hank is a “successful” clone in that he has no imperfections, Vincent is an imperfect clone (in that he is an Albino, hence the nickname “White Vincent”).  The 41 Trust wants to use both of them to determine how to create a “perfect” clone of Jesus. 

At this point the suspense of the series is really good.  Viewers now have a real reason to want Hank and his crew to beat the Pirates to the cross.  Both parties arrive almost simultaneously and when the ancient crate is dug up, all that is inside are bugs:  the cross has disintegrated and its remnants have been eaten by beetles.  End of danger, right?  Wrong.  Somehow the 41 Trust had anticipated this and had abducted a bug expert (this just happens to be the supposedly dead husband of the FBI agent tag-teaming with Hank in this quest).  With the help of the bug doctor, the Trust is able to extract some blood from the beetles and after studying Hank and Vincent, they are able to create cloned embryos to be inserted into female carriers.  After one successful trial, one girl (Alima) is impregnated, the leader of the 41 Trust decides that she will be the one to carry the new son of God and orders Vincent to kill Alima and all of the other would-be carriers.  Instead Hank and Vincent help her escape.  An explosion kills Melanie and (at first glance) Vincent.   The series ends eight months later.  A scene shows Alima healing the sick in an African Village – one of those sick being Vincent who had escaped the explosion after all.

Overall, besides for a lot of moments that required really turning up one’s “suspension of disbelief” dial, it was a pretty interesting plot.  I’m not sure where the storyline could have gone after this first season but as a one-series unit it did a good job of presenting a unique narrative that highlighted the danger of advanced scientific knowledge in the hands of religious fanatics.

As I turn away from last season’s shows to focus on those debuting this year, I’m not sure I see any new network dramas that offer this level of complexity.  I suppose I should be happy, since these types of shows tend to simply get canceled (wasting my time and frustrating me to no end), but instead I am sad, already feeling that my DVR is lacking in any novelty and high-end intellect.  But perhaps I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

NBC Stands for “No Bleeping Clue”?: The Struggling Network’s Identity Crisis (From Last Year’s Success with Revolution to This Year’s Sitcom Debuts)

NBC, a once powerful primetime force, has lately become everyone’s favorite punching bag.  The past few years has found the network hemorrhaging viewers at an unprecedented rate and so television critics have been quick to poke fun of its programming attempts and missteps.   I myself have said that NBC is the place where good programming ideas go to die.

As we prepare to head into the new primetime season I find myself reflecting on their recent identity crisis.  The past few years has found them trying to draw in viewers with hyped up dramas – most of which have failed splendidly upon arrival, or soon after.  One of the first of these was The Event (2010-2011), the show that was marketed to be the next Lost.  It lasted just one season.  In 2012, inspired perhaps by Fox’s Glee, it launched Smash (2012-2013), a novel addition to the primetime scene – an hour-long musical/drama hybrid.  It was one of its most successful programs of the year but then flopped in its sophomore year (after NBC did not bring the show back until the winter season) and was canceled after only a two-year run.  It most recent big-ticket drama is Revolution (2012-present).  And while I like the show quite a bit and can see great potential, I worry with NBC’s track record that this year will soon see the program falling to pieces and landing in the televisual graveyard which houses all too many other potentially great shows that met their early demise. But, while it is alive and well, I’ll take some time to discuss it here.

Revolution is yet another dystopian tale of the United States post-national disaster.  However, this story offers some unique variations on this common plot.  Viewers are first led to believe that a scientific experiment gone wrong has left the country (and world) without electricity.  As the first season stretches on this slightly unfathomable premise becomes (while not scientifically sound) more believable.  An invention which utilizes nanotechnology to deplete electricity within a specific parameter has been adopted by the U.S. Department of Defense and, apparently, a rogue official has decided to mutate this technology so that its effect is wide reaching and disastrous.  Or so we thought until the season finale.  While this disaster serves as the backdrop for the series, like most post-apocalyptic narratives, at the heart of the story is a community simply trying to survive.   It is not basic survival (such as shelter and food) that they seek, as it is 15 years after the blackout and communities have formed across the States fashioned after the American Revolution-era, they are trying to survive assassination and capture.  The family is being hunted down by various powers because it is believed that in their midst is the knowledge (and technology) to restart the electricity.  And so the long game of cat and mouse begins.   

What I like best about the show is the way that it imagines the not-so-futuristic post-disaster United States.  The blackout has caused the country to divide itself into various warring territories, which the show often reveals in quick glances at a map of the country.  

 For the majority of the first season we are only privy to the happenings within the Monroe District – a military state run by a tyrannical general headquartered in Philadelphia and his wide-reaching, violent militia forces.  However, as the first season drew to a close, the characters travel into the neighboring territories and we learn that it is not as bleak in other sections of the country.  For example, the Georgia Federation is led by a female President, who rules with the safety of her citizens, not her personal glory, in mind. 

Aesthetically I find the show to be well constructed.  The set decoration is most impressive when viewers are show scenes of familiar national monuments or famous locales in their ruined state. 

 While some have found the frequent Samurai-like fight sequences to be unrealistic, I am able to suspend my disbelief and appreciate the role they play in making this drama blend into the action genre. 

And while the acting is uneven (I found the teen characters that we were supposed to invest in early on so annoying I was half hoping for their deaths), the main character, Miles Matheson(Billy Burke), a reluctant hero (bad guy turned bad) is terrific.  As is his former best friend, Sebastian Monroe (David Lyons), the evil villain that we slowly gain sympathy toward (hinting at the fact that in the coming season he won’t be our principle bad guy).  Rachel Matheson (Elizabeth Mitchell, formerly of Lost and V), plays her typical stony, strong female role well.  And a cast of minor characters have led to plot moments where I have teared up at the deaths (or potential deaths) of the supplementary community members. 

Finally, the show did what any debut show needs to do:  it built up to a cliffhanger climax that makes viewers eager to return for season two.  [Spoiler Alert].  In the final episodes the bad guys achieve their goal of turning the power back on – an accomplishment that will give them the power to bomb their enemies off the map; before killing himself, the same rogue official who started this all in motion, Randall, detonates a series of atomic bombs aimed at major U.S. cities; and our main characters (and the world) are left in peril.  But it doesn’t end there.  The final scene reveals a presidential bunker in Guantanamo Bay where the President of the United States has apparently been hiding since the blackout.  He receives word that Randall has successful accomplished his goal and viewers are left understanding that the pending destruction of much of the country has actually been ordered by its commander in chief.

This is the type of drama that could revitalize NBC’s flailing Neilson Ratings.  And while NBC is launching a few new dramas that could run beside it (The Blacklist looks interesting this year), it is boasting of its new lineup of sitcoms).  It seems to this viewer like the network just can’t figure out what direction it wants to go in or who it wants to be.  I’m not saying the focus on sitcoms is a bad thing, the genre definitely is slowly returning to prominence on primetime and such shows do make more money in syndication than dramas.  And maybe it’s a good idea to try to return to its glory days of “Must See TV” where NBC made money hand-over-fist with shows like Friends, Seinfeld, and Fraiser.  But will this generation of viewers relate to a show like Welcome to the Family, Sean Saves the World, or The Michael J. Fox Show like those of us in the 90s did to the fun-loving, coffee shop-dwelling gang of Friends?  I’m betting not.

So, as a television scholar who primarily studies network television, I’ll be cheering for this behemoth to return to its former network glory days.  But I won’t be holding my breath or investing too much time (or DVR space) to their shows as I’m not quite convinced that this will be their comeback year!

Primetime's Flawed Feminist Figures: Some Musings About ABC’s Scandal & CBS’s The Good Wife

One of my favorite academic texts of the last few years is Susan Douglas’s Enlightened Sexism: The Seductive Message that Feminism’s Work is Done.  As a follow-up project to Where the Girls Are:  Growing up Female with the Mass Media (a book that studied representations of women in popular culture from the 1950s-1980s), Enlightened Sexism traces media imagery from the 1990s to present.  In one of her opening passages she aptly summarizes her findings:

Something’s out of whack here.  If you immerse yourself in the media fare of the past ten to fifteen years, what you see is a rather large gap between how the vast majority of girls and women live their lives, the choices they are forced to make, and what they see – and don’t see – in the media.  Ironically, it is I just the opposite of the gap in the 1950s and ‘60s, when images of women as Watusi-dancing bimbettes on the beach or stay-at-home housewives who need advice from Mr. Clean about how to wash a floor obscured the exploding number of women entering the workforce, joining the Peace Corps, and becoming involved in politics.  Back then the media illusion was that the aspirations of girls and women weren’t changing at all when they were.  Now the media illusion is that equality for girls and women is an accomplished fact when it isn’t.  (4)

Throughout the book she contrasts the pop culture depictions of women against their reality, focusing heavily on depictions of professional women in the media – depictions that occur at a rate far more frequent than reality would dictate.   While powerful, professional women are abundant on television shows and in film, the real world statistics reflect a very different world.  Consider for a moment these figures that Douglas provides toward the end of her text:

Nancy Pelosi aside, only 17 percent of Congress was female in 2009.  Women are still only 14 percent of all police officers, and only 1 percent of police chiefs are.  How many female CEOs are there at Fortune magazine’s top 500 companies?  Fifteen.  Law schools may be graduating more women than ever – almost the same number as men – but in 2005 only 17 percent o the partners at major American law firms ewer women. Women account for half of all medical students, but in 2007 only 20 percent of new surgeons were women.  What this means is that, in addition to over representing female achievement by showcasing doctors and lawyers instead of secretaries and day care workers, TV also overstates women’s conquest of the profession.  (279)

Douglas is careful not to completely demonize media creators in pointing out this imbalance.  She writes:

There is not a cabal of six white guys in Hollywood saying, ‘Women are getting too much power; before they get too far let’s buy them off with fantasies that will make them think they’ve already made it and will get them to focus on shopping and breast implants instead of eying the glass ceiling.’ On the contrary, what we see and hear from the media comes from the most noble intentions of certain writers and producers to offer girls and women strong role models and from the most crass commercial calculations to use illusion of power to sell us, well, pretty  much everything.  (Douglas 18)

But ultimately she is concerned with how the plethora of fictional women prancing around the small and big screens in all their professional glory, might be providing young men and women today with a skewed depiction of gender equality.

As the past television season drew to a close I thought often of Douglas’s claims and longed to add my own insights to them.  In noting, as she did, the bevy of high powered women dominating the fictional landscape, I also observed something else that Douglas did not specifically touch on.  While these fictional characters – female lawyers, politicians, doctors, and more – in many ways did reveal a false utopia of female potential, they all also contained scripted flaws that worked to undo their powerful (arguably feminist) characterizations.  When I began to study the “feminist” characters on primetime television I quickly realized that despite all of their professional accomplishments, they often did not seem all that different from female characters who frequented daytime soap operas, melodramas, sitcoms, and dramas in decades past.  Despite the fact that these characters were brilliant, witty, strong, and independent women (in many ways), the storylines about their professional conquests often came second to that of their romantic woes.  While they could outperform males in the courtroom, the elections, and the operating room, their lives often unraveled because of a man.   In fact, many of these figures were willing to walk away from their successes because of a love gone wrong.

Two examples of this “flawed feminist” persona easily come to mind in ABC’s Scandal and CBS’s The Good Wife.  Scandal (2012-present) focuses on a D.C.-based crisis manager, Olivia Pope (Kerry Washington).  Although individual episodes center around her team’s efforts to manage high-profile, complicated legal situations, the overarching narrative is really a will they-won’t they, star-crossed lover, storyline about her affair with the President of the United States, Fitzgerald Grant (Tony Goldwyn).  Olivia’s character (and Washington’s acting) is fabulous.  Her lightening quick retorts and long-winding monologues showcase her confidence, power, and charisma.  But when she shares the screen with her presidential lover she regresses into a weak-in-the-knees school girl, desperate for the relationship they cannot have.  Although she does, admittedly, repeatedly put his career before their potential union (believing in the good he can do for the country), she is unable to move on past him and she often finds herself comprising her professional morals to see that his political reputation remains intact. 

The Good Wife (2009-present) is a legal drama revolving around the law firm of Gardner & Lockhart.  The main character is Alicia Florrick (Julianna Marguiles) and while individual episodes feature specific cases, the overarching plot is concerned with her career and family, and, more often than not, her love life.  The series starts with her returning to law after having been a stay-at-home mother and politician’s wife for much of the past two decades.  She is a public figure having stood by her husband, Peter Florrick (Chris North), after it was revealed that he had sexual relations with prostitutes while seated as the state’s attorney.  The first few seasons find her estranged from Peter and focus on her attraction to her boss, Will Gardner (Josh Charles), her former love interest and law school peer.  The love triangle escalated this season as Alicia began working toward reconciliation with Peter even as her feelings for Will (after a short lived affair) continue to resurface.  The season finale found her walking away from her newly earned partnership at the firm so that, apparently, she wouldn’t act on her feelings for Will and terminate her marriage.

In talking to friends who watch both shows, I’ve heard sentiments that seem to hint at the strange mismatch between the public/professional characterizations of these women and their personal/emotional characterizations.   One friend bemoaned the never-ending storyline about Olivia and Fitz’s impossible love story.  Another balked at the idea that Alicia could return to a husband that cheated on her with prostitutes.   Although neither commenter probably realized it, they were pointing out the classic “flawed feminist” depiction which is readily available in popular culture today.

Although I’ve long noticed this pattern, what surprises me is that I often don’t find the storylines to be unappealing (even when I realize the danger they could be doing).  As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, perhaps I simply know that the kiss of death for a series that centers on a romantic pairing is to allow the couple to be romantically paired.  If there is a super couple, their power can only remain so long as fate finds them torn apart.  While they can have momentary unions along the way, they can only find their happily ever after as the show reaches its end because to find it sooner will lead to viewer disinterest and limited plot possibilities.

But perhaps my inability to hate these storylines stems from another place.  Having always been fascinated by the tales of JFK’s affair with Marilyn Monroe, maybe Scandal appeals to me on some other level.  Perhaps I root for Peter Florrick to win back his life because he’s played by the actor who played Big in Sex and the City (and who didn’t root for Carrie and Big to get together?  Although, while I’m thinking of it, we probably shouldn’t have because he was sort of a jerk in that series also). 

Regardless, these shows are extremely popular and the televisual staple of the “flawed feminist” is alive and well in countless narratives.  Maybe this is a product of what Douglas calls “enlightened feminism”:  “a response, deliberate or not, to the perceived threat of a new gender regime, “ one that “insists that women have made plenty of progress because of feminism – indeed, full equality has allegedly been achieved – so now it’s okay, even amusing, to resurrect sexist stereotypes of girls and women” (9).  But were these stereotypes ever really dead to begin with?  Did they need resurrecting?  Maybe Alicia’s and Olivia’s exist because they have always existed.  It leads me to wonder:  in continuing, as I do, to enjoy these depictions are we helping to forever cement them in the pop culture iconography?    But maybe we can embrace the positive aspects of these characterizations while still criticizing the negative ones.  This flawed feminist scholar certainly hopes so because these programs are already programmed into my DVR as I eagerly await their return this fall.  

Are Soaps Still the Next Coming of the “After School Special”?: The Genre’s Role in Promoting Social Awareness & Edutainment to Adolescent Audience

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a longtime General Hospital fan and a soap opera advocate.  But recently I’ve been disappointed in a few storylines running on the show.  I have long praised the way in which this show, and other daytime serials, have been narrative leaders – tackling social issues progressively with tact and care (as you will see in the discussion that follows).  So I have been surprised by GH’s recent depiction of homosexual males on the program.  While visibility in itself is sometimes something to be applauded – since homosexual characters are still underrepresented on television – the recent characterizations have left much to be desired. 

In December of 2012, GH introduced Felix DuBois (Marc Samuel), a homosexual male nursing student into its large cast of characters.  Although I enjoy the character for what he is – comic relief to balance out some bleak storylines – he is, problematically, just the embodiment of stereotypes concerning.  He serves mostly as a sidekick for a more prominent character (Sabrina Santiago) and most of his screen time has been devoted to silly antics (e.g. conducting female makeovers).  Although with the introduction of his kid sister, there is some indication that he is about to get some storylines with a bit more “meat” to them, this hasn’t been the case so far.  Further, the show devoted much-too-much time to him longing after a straight male character (a body guard turned accidental male dancer, who quickly earned the nickname “Magic Milo” – a pop culture allusion to the recent film, Magic Mike).  That the show would promote the mistaken assumption that gay men are secretly lusting after straight men is troubling.  It was even more troubling when the premise surfaced again with another new gay character!

In 2013, Brad Cooper (Parry Shen) became a minor character on the show.  He is a shady lab tech whose unethical behavior extends beyond the work scene.  Another gay character, he first is portrayed as chasing after Felix and almost stalking him (following him into the locker room to spy on him as he showers).   As if this wasn’t bad enough (and I find it to be pretty bad), just last month this character turned his sights toward a young, straight male character, Michael Corinthos (who will be discussed in greater detail below).  Brad even attempts to blackmail Michael into sleeping with him.  As if this storyline wouldn’t scream “ick” already, it is even worse being that Michael is a victim of male sexual abuse (a storyline from three years ago).

So as these plots flit across my television I have found myself shaking my head in anger thinking about how surprising this is for GH and soaps in general.  It made me need to go back and re-read a conference paper I delivered a few years back on the social value of soaps and the ways in which they have delicately dealt with important social issues.  In order to remind myself of this rich tradition (and to hopefully encourage the genre to return to it immediately), I am including my previous thoughts on soap’s social utility here.

Soap Opera & Social Awareness

During the last three decades of the 20^th century, a staple in the lineups of network television was the After School Special, a genre that often aired on the heels of the daytime soap operas that filled earlier timeslots.  The term “after school special,” was coined by ABC and correlates with its series of 154 made-for-television movies which ran from 1972 to 1996 over 25 seasons.  However, the term itself more loosely relates to the general genre of television programming during that time period which dealt with controversial or socially relevant issues intended to be viewed by school age children, or more specifically, adolescents.   So while ABC was the inventor of this form – and was the most successful with it, racking up 54 daytime Emmy awards – the other networks followed suit:  CBS with its Schoolbreak Special (or Afternoon Playhouse) which ran over 17 seasons from 1980-1996 and NBC’s Special Treat which ran 11 seasons from 1975-1986.

Although these programs are most well known for their coverage of social issues, this focus only evolved (or enhanced) gradually over time.  A review of all 154 of ABC’s episodes shows that during the first decade of the programming, the majority of the episodes did not actually have this focus.  While a few were devoted to being accepting of persons with disabilities, understanding different family structures (such as teens living with foster families or coming to terms with the fact that they were adopted), many of the episodes simply aired storylines featuring teenagers (embarking on fundraising quests, making friendship pacts, working on political campaigns).  Some did focus specifically on coming of age type conflict stories (a teen overcoming the embarrassment of having a stutter, a male basketball player who wants to join ballet but worries about what friends and family will think, etc.) but others were quite different (for example there was a slew of literary adaptation and historical programming episodes).   It was not until the 1979-1980 season that the first episode aired in ABC’s series that would fit the normal formula for the after school special.  This episode, “The Late Great Me! Story of a Teenage Alcoholic,” was about a15-year-old who girl starts to drink liquor to impress a boy, and soon starts to develop a serious alcohol problem.  After this episode throughout the next two decades, plots such as this became more prevalent and the series began to focus more on storylines that fell more under the classification of “edutainment” with their made-for-TV films focusing on social issues that would relevant to teenage viewers.  Such storylines included:  unexpected pregnancy, drug experimentation, racial discrimination, depression, sexually transmitted diseases, child abuse, peer pressure, sexual assault, learning disabilities, bullying, suicide, drunk-driving, domestic abuse, etc.

By the time these after school specials went off the air in the mid-1990s, its daytime cohort, the soap opera, was already turning an eye toward its key audience:  adolescents.  In efforts to increase its audience pool, soaps began “youthening” their storylines hoping to gain after school teenage viewers.  As the genre already had a proven track record of tackling social issues, it is not surprising that eventually these issues were more often addressed with these teen viewers in mind.  In this way, perhaps inadvertently, the soap opera filled the void left by the departed after school special, acting as an occasional form of edutainment.   I have been interested in on how recent storylines have tackled social issues by centering a teenage character at the front of the narrative. 

A few years ago I argued that in a televisual era that no longer broadcasts “after school specials,” soaps have evolved to partially fill this role and that this role is one more reason that voices should be raised to save this genre-in-crisis.  But a few recent soap storylines have made me question this claim to some extent.

As the Teen Turns: The Soap Opera’s Desire for a Younger Audience

The soap opera’s initial turn toward younger viewing audiences and more socially relevant issues were not fueled by altruism (the desire to better serve the public) or even innovation (the desire to take the genre in new and exciting directions).  Like most televisual transitions, the shifts were primarily motivated by financial reasons:  ratings were plummeting. 

According to Robert C. Allen, By the mid-1970s the majority of soap’s audience members “began to pass out of the demographic target range of 18-49 years.  To make matters worse for soap opera producers, the baby boom of the immediate postwar years had ended, and women had begun working outside the home in numbers unprecedented in peacetime…  Soap opera producers responded by introducing younger characters, interjecting plot lines with social controversy, and making more female characters career orientated.”

A key example of how this combination worked is ABC’s General Hospital.  By 1977 the show’s ratings indicated that the soap opera was destined for cancellation.  Gloria Monty was hired in 1978 in a last ditch attempt to save the show.  She fired some of the older actors [and] focused the narrative on two younger ones (the first super couple the genre saw:  Luke Spencer and Laura Baldwin).  This paid off as by 1980 GH had become the highest-rated daytime program.  Underlying Monty’s strategy – and that of other producers who followed her lead – was the need to reorient soap operas toward younger viewers, not only to add viewers but to establish soap opera viewing as a regular activity among women just entering their ‘prime’ as consumers.  By 1982 soap opera producers across networks had succeeded in attracting more than 3 million college students as soap opera viewers, 70 percent of them women.

Edutainment:  The Soap Opera on Social Issues

Of course, the genre’s turn toward social issues actually predates its attempts to “youthen” up its audience by at least a decade.  It was during the late 1960s that soap operas first entered into the era of social issue coverage.  This was the time period that first saw minority actors entering the genre and storylines that aligned with the social climate flourished.  Topics covered included:  feminism, abortion rights, the Vietnam War, drug use, child abuse, and others.  As Dorthy Anger notes, “this new openness on serials extended, for the first time, to sex” as well (33).  Although the groundbreaking storylines are too many to list in full, some noteworthy ones include:  the first illegal abortion on Another World in 1965, the first legal abortion on television on All My Children in 1973, Agnes Nixon’s AMC 1970 storyline concerning the protest against the Vietnam War, OLTL, AW, AMC, and GH’s 1990s storylines dealing with HIV & AIDS. 

Although this is too brief a space to fully credit the genre’s impact on social awareness issues, it should be briefly noted that this is not simply an American phenomena.  As the genre spread globally many countries began using their soap operas and telenovelas for social education.  Hedi Noel Nariman covers this well in her book length study, Soap Operas for Social Change:  Toward a Methodology for Entertainment-Education Television. 

A Network Analysis: An Overview of “Teen Social Issue” Plots on ABC’s Soaps

I have been most interested in how the soap’s coverage of social issues shifted throughout the decades increasingly utilizing its younger cast members in such storylines.  In the chart below I have attempted to house the majority of the youth-centered social issue storylines that occurred from 1970 to present on the three major soap operas of one network – ABC.  Across each of the programs:  General Hospital, One Life to Live, and All My Children, the progression is clear:  as time progresses the number of teen-centered social issue storylines increases as well.  Most notable is the explosion of such plots around the mid-1990s:  the exact time when the after school specials went off the air.

General Hospital
Character	Social Issue	Year/Range
Laura Webber-Baldwin	Rape	1979
AJ Quartermaine	Alcoholism / Drunk Driving	1995
Stone Cates/Robin Scorpio	AIDS/HIV	1995
Karen Wexler	Child Molestation/ Drug Addiction	1996
Elizabeth Harding	Rape	1998
Leslie Lu Spencer	Teen Pregnancy/Abortion	2006
Kristina Corinthos	Dating/Domestic Abuse	2010
Michael Corinthos	Male/Prison Rape	2010-2011
One Life to Live
Character	Social Issue	Year/Range
Cathy Craig	Drug Addiction	1970
Billy Douglas	Homophobia/Coming Out	1992
Marty Saybrooke	Gang Rape	1993
Jessica Buchanan	Teen Pregnancy	1999
Starr Manning	Teen Pregnancy	2006
Oliver Fish	Coming Out	2009
All My Children
Character	Social Issue	Year/Range
Erica Kane	Abortion	1973
Donna Beck	Teen Prostitution	1978
Bianca Montgomery	Anorexia	1998
Bianca Montgomery	Coming Out	2000
Bianca Montgomery	Rape	2003
Zoe (Fredrick Luper)	Transgender Identity	2006

Table 1.  Teen Social Issue Storylines on ABC (1970-2011)

In studying this list, it is clear that certain predictable storylines receive more coverage as other, for example:  unexpected pregnancy.  However, it is also clear that a great many of the ground breaking narratives centered around younger characters are covering more uncharted territory.  For example, General Hospital’s coverage of child molestation and male rape; One Life to Live’s storylines related to homophobia and gang rape; and All My Children’s narratives concerning eating disorders and transgender identity. 

Ratings, Reactions, & Realism:  A Discussion of Two Recent General Hospital Storylines

At the start of the century, General Hospital launched two teen-centered social issue storylines, although quite different in content, both focus around the two children of the soap’s key mobster, Sonny Corinthos.  These two characters, Michael and Kristina, both experienced the infamous SORAS (soap opera rapid age syndrome) process – aging into teenagers, likely so that they could contribute to teen-centered social issue storylines such as this. 

Kristina Davis-Corinthos:  Domestic/Dating Abuse

The first storyline pertains to 17-old year old Kristina Davis-Corinthos.  Running for the majority of the 2010 season this storyline dealt with the abuse this over-achieving teen experienced at the hands of her high school boyfriend, Kieffer Bauer, a seemingly all-American, Ivy League-bound, perfect (on paper that is) guy.  The plot dealt with his escalating acts of violence, his jealous, controlling rage, and his constant justifications that his abusive outbreaks were all due to his love for her or were due to her own actions which caused his anger. 

This narrative arc was well covered by mainstream publications, earning two different interviews in The Soap Opera Digest, one featuring Lexi Ainsworth and Christian Alexander (the actors who playing Kristina & Kiefer), and another featuring Ainsworth and Nancy Lee Grahm (who plays Alexis Davis, Kristina’s mother).  All three characters praised General Hospital’s inclusion of the storyline, as can be seen in the interview segments below:

Lexi Ainsworth (Kristina) commented:  "I was very excited when I heard about this story for a lot of reasons. Nothing like that has ever happened to me personally, so not only was it was a great challenge to play something like that, but I'm really glad I could do the PSA [Public Service Announcement] to inform people and let people know that this does happen, every day. That's an important message to people my age. Hopefully this will let girls in trouble know that they have friends and family who can support them and help them through it and let them know that any relationship like that is not a healthy relationship and they need to get out."

Christian Alexander (Kiefer) discussed how he reacted to the storyline in the very beginning:  "I found out the day I was shooting that scene that the storyline was going to be centered around domestic violence and abuse. I'm thrilled that we're doing something in the teen storyline that can help people be more aware of it. I spoke with the writers, who mentioned that the Chris Brown/Rihanna situation brought this to light, got people talking about it and there was an opportunity here to shine some light on the issue."

Nancy Lee Grahn (Alexis) spoke about how this storyline effected her off-screen as a mother of a teenage daughter:  “What I've done, naturally, is research teen violence, because now it interests me, and also because I have a just-turned-12-year-old. We had a conversation. She saw me on the Internet, researching it, and said, "What are you doing?" She knows the general sense of what goes on [at GH]. I said this is an interesting topic of conversation, with what these kids are exposed to with the media and violence on television and all of that stuff. What young women are accepting from boys and young men right now is unthinkable to me! I'm talking about this with other parents and I'm saying, "What happened?" Where did the disconnect happen between my generation and this generation? What happened is that girls are feeling that they need to be so highly sexualized. And that violence is cool. It's not just talking about safe sex with your kids now; you need to talk about respect, violence, verbal abuse.”

Other reviews – not geared directly toward publicity – have also praised the storyline.  Michele Whitney of Suite101.com discussed the timeliness of the storyline and the very real problem it addresses for this current generation of girls.  For example, consider these statistics: 

• 20% of teens in a serious relationship reported being hit, slapped, or pushed by their partner
• About 30% of girls reported being concerned about physical abuse at the hands of their partner
• 25% of teens in a serious relationship reported that their partner prevented them from spending time with family, and felt pressure to spend time only with their partner
• 23% of girls felt sexually pressured while in a relationship and went further than they wanted to because of it

These facts indicate that General Hospital’s edutainment plot is serving a real purpose:  exposing a problem that is nor currently getting enough attention.

Of course that is not to say that the reactions to the storyline were unanimous across the board.  Many female fans posted personal stories of having experienced similar abuse at the hands of a teenage boyfriend and while many of them were pleased that GH was addressing this issue, quite a few noted that the storyline too quickly moved its focus from the victim, Kristina, to her mobster father and his personal reaction and need for revenge.

Michael Corinthos:  Male/Prison Rape

Unlike the storyline centering around Kristina, this second General Hospital storyline, perhaps due to its even more controversial nature, did not warrant the same amount of publicity.  Although it sent message boards ablaze and sparked quite a few online reviews of the plot, it did not get the amount of coverage in mainstream publications, like Soap Opera Digest, that the teen dating abuse plot did. 

This storyline deals with Kristina’s brother,18-year old Michael Corinthos, a heterosexual virgin who is raped while in prison for murdering his stepmother in self-defense.  As with all soap opera storylines it is a bit more complicated than that one line summary indicates as the violent crime committed against this character (one that was not shown directly on screen and was only hinted at for months) was not actually committed for the “usual” reasons a rape might be committed (for example, a display of power).  This crime was inflicted on Michael simply because his fellow inmate, Carter, was hired by someone (Franco – James Franco’s year long off-and-on cameo role on the show) to hurt Michael as a way to punish Michael’s surrogate uncle, mobster Jason Morgan.  (Got all that?) 

Although regular viewers of General Hospital are well accustomed to mob violence, dark plots, and a rather regular delivery of storylines that enter into the “social issue” arena, this narrative was met with some resistance.  A recent review of the storyline on the website Queerty, titled “Does General Hospital’s Teen Prison Rape Storyline Go Too Far?,” notes that (as of the date of publication) 949 Facebook posters noted that they felt rather ambivalent about the storyline, not quite knowing whether GH pushed the envelope for real purposes or not.  The reviewer asks at the start of the review: is General Hospital’s treatment of such a taboo topic actually progressive, or is it just going scandalous for sweeps week?  However, by the close of the review, the author writes in the show’s favor:  “General Hospital isn’t just being sensational – they’re acknowledging a very real problem.  Seventy percent of LGBT-identified inmates report having been sexual assaulted during their incarceration…. And HIV rates among male US inmates are five times higher than the general population.”  And, although these facts are not well known, most people who do think about prison rape, mistakenly assume that all prison rapists and their victims are gay and this storyline corrects this misconception.

Similarly praising this storyline, Sarah Bibel of Fancast writes:  this storyline “has the potential to be a heartbreaking, informative, groundbreaking social issue storyline exploring the impact of sexual assault on a male victim.  GH can touch on everything on why it is more difficult for male victims to come forward than for female victims, how sending teenagers to adult prisons sets them up to be victimized, to challenging the notion that prison rape is a fitting punishment for criminals.”  Bibel also applauded the show’s airing of a public service announcement featuring Chad Duell (Michael) that aired right after the episode that finally revealed that the attack Michael experienced in prison was actually a sexual assault.  As Bibel notes, this may very well be the first PSA addressing the issue of male sexual assault aired on daytime television. 

A soap opera fan posting on the message boards of Soapcentral.com wrote this post that seems particularly relevant to this panel:

It seems the era of the daytime drama is in its senior years, approaching the end of its existence. I think if this is the case, I don’t want the last stories told to be lazily written, forgettable dribble that we can’t even pretend to like. If the era of soaps is coming to an end, I want a story that will always remind me why soaps were so great, why they lasted 25, 35, 45 years. Because they reach into the heart and place something there we remember decades later, that soaps gave us memories that last forever.   (With) this gut wrenching story of Michael’s rape, these writers, Bob Guza and his team, and these talented actors, Maurice Benard, Steve Burton, Laura Wright and this incredible young actor Chad Duell could be giving us the last great soap story ever to be written. If the world of soaps is dying, I want to see it go out in a way that makes me never ever in the future forget why soaps were so great.

Conclusion

Despite having been disappointed by recent soap storylines/trends, as a soap scholar I have been very concerned by the genre’s anticipated departure.  While there are countless reasons as to why the death of the soap opera would be tragic (from a television/genre standpoint), this discussion has meant to add one more reason onto that long list:  the end of the soap opera would also mean the end of the only type programming that has arisen to fill the needs of the already deceased after school special.

Of course, this is not to say that no other programming exists that raises social issues with an eye toward teen demographics.  (Fox’s Glee, for example, is being praised for doing such in primetime).  However, the majority of the programming that does this (often on networks devoted to teen viewers, such as the CW – formerly WB – network), is limited by its programming schedule.  As primetime series only broadcast an average of 20 episodes a season, the amount of narrative time devoted to the development of social issue storylines is quite limited.  When such storylines are delivered, the speed at which they are often tackled often leaves much to be desired.  And, for all that soaps are criticized for their lack of realism, such issues are often dealt with more tactfully, and realistically, on daytime programming, perhaps because time is not a concern and because – melodramatic as soaps are – they can avoid overly dramatic portrayals of topics they long to cover seriously.  

While more could be said about the research on how effective such edutainment storylines are (be they aimed at teens or otherwise) their presence alone is something to be celebrated and their absence – along with the genre that most faithfully delivers them – would be something to be mourned.