In Puerto Rico, and Brooklyn - the two places my grandmother called home - it is already June 1, her 100th birthday. My grandmother, Celina Pacheco, isn't with us anymore. She died in 1991, after an ugly, but thankfully short, decline into dementia. If you knew Celina, you knew that dementia was the worst thing that could happen to such a brilliant mind. She was a thinker. A keeper of memories. A storehouse of history. She was the greatest storyteller I have ever met, and I've known some pretty amazing storytellers. She had a quick wit, a sharp tongue, an infectious laugh, and a big, generous heart....especially when it came to children.
Celina had 9 children - all of them planned, all of them spaced out in two year intervals, and she mourned the loss of a tenth child who didn't make it to term. She loved motherhood, and she adored grandmotherhood. Children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren, she raised children almost until the day she died. She was good at it. No, she was fucking GREAT at it. If it's true that anyone is born with a natural calling, my grandmother was born to care for babies, nurture young children, and guide tweens and teens into adulthood.
If some genie were to appear and ask me to choose between a million dollars and one wish, I'd take the one wish. My wish would be one more day with my grandmother as I remember her, when she was at her best. Drinking coffee, riding the subways of NYC all over the five boroughs to visit childhood friends, scratching my back, telling wonderful stories about her admittedly bratty childhood, arguing with my grandfather - who she'd known since childhood, and who she adored, always. And, if I had that day, I'd tell Celina the things I never got around to telling her when she was alive: That, if there's any little thing about me that's like her, it must be the best thing about me. That I consider it an honor to have been loved, nurtured, and raised by a woman with such Mana. That it makes me sad my nieces and nephews never knew her. That not a day has gone by since 1991 when I haven't thought about her. That I never knew I could miss anyone as much as I still miss her.
A while back, I responded to the WLS list of greatest women on soaps list with my own list. Last week, WLS completed their list of greatest men. Again, the results are somewhat controversial. Again, fans are responding. Equal time for the men. I must note, however, that soaps have long been the domain of women. IMO, there have been more strong, interesting, talented women on daytime than men. This isn't to say that there haven't been some truly great male actors in the genre but, the truth must be told: the genre has, for the most part, been one that caters to a female audience interested in seeing their own lives - and their own fantasy lives - portrayed. These lives - and fantasies - are not always about girl-meeting-boy, or women needing men in order to succeed. Note, though, that so many of the men I've chosen have as a benchmark of their greatness, their ability to work well opposite their female co-stars. I'm not sure a male actor can attain greatness in this genre if he doesn't have what it takes to work alongside women as his peers.
Here, then, my list of the greatest male actors of daytime drama:
Michael Zaslow - I've definitely got a bias, and I freely admit it. Zaslow was the best in the business. Charismatic, commanding, but also subtle and vulnerable, Zaslow's Roger Thorpe was the stuff of soap opera legend. I don't know that any two actors in daytime have matched the chemistry shared by Michael Zaslow and Maureen Garrett - chemistry that was as palpable in the 90s as it was 20 years before, when they first started working opposite one another. Something about his portrayal of Roger Thorpe always broke my heart, even as Roger behaved like a monster. Inside of that monster was a vulnerable boy, and Michael Zaslow knew how to make just a little bit of that boy come to the surface. Zaslow's death left a void in the genre that many of us feel has never been filled.
David Canary - Canary did the seemingly impossible. AMC's Adam and Stuart Chandler couldn't have been more different, and Canary not only made each character three-dimensional, immediately recognizable, and attractive in very different ways, he did it consistently for 20 years. Brilliant. Adam and Brooke? One of the best couples, ever. Brownie points to Canary for his stint on AW. Who else but Canary could have stepped in to play AW's bigger-than-life Steven Frame after so many years of absence?
Larry Bryggman - An actor's actor. Bryggman has never had matinee idol looks to fall back on. With him, it's all about delivering a great performance, every single time. What more is there to say? Put him on the screen with Elizabeth Hubbard and I dare you not to watch.
Michael Levin - An Italian among Irish, Michael Levin's Jack gave Ryan's Hope a bit of a cynical edge. Always dependable, always likable, and just so damned real. When Mary Ryan died, we believed it, because Levin never let us forget it. He worked wonderfully with Kate Mulgrew and, once she was written off, his performance was often about her absence...not for a month, but for years. Ever the heart-broken widower, when the doors were shut on Ryan's Bar, it was a joy to see Levin's Jack get a happy ending, at last.
Joel Crothers - My earliest memories of Crothers are a hybrid of Somerset and Dark Shadows, but it was on Edge of Night, as Doctor Miles Cavanaugh, that he found his niche. Incredibly handsome, charming, warm and human...he was just a natural in front of the camera. An actor who was well aware that he'd probably be muddling through a lot of crap in between truly great scenes, but who never gave less than 100% of himself. Nancy Barrett, Tina Sloan, Holland Taylor, Sandy Faison...it didn't matter who his female counterpart was on screen...he was at his best when he worked opposite women. Some actors seem as if they're waiting for their next line. When Crothers shared the screen, he always seemed to be in the moment, listening just as we were. Like MIchael Zaslow, Joel Crothers was taken from us too soon. I was fortunate enough to meet Joel about a year before he passed away he was just what you'd expect: warm, friendly, charming, and with a big heart.
Gerald Gordon - Lots of this blog's readers are too young to have seen or even heard of The Doctors. Your loss. If you'd been around in the 70s you would have caught the great Gerald Gordon as Doctor Nick Belini. Unlike every other television doctor of the day, Nick Belini was gruff, a street kid who'd made good. Gordon never, ever played Belini as a Doctor Kildare clone. He was edgy. Good-looking in an off-beat way, ruggedly masculine, and irresistible to women. If George Clooney and House had an ass-baby, it would be Nick Belini. Of course, he managed this about 40 years before either of those TV docs was even an idea. And Nick's female counterpart? Doctor Althea Davis, played by none other than the great Elizabeth Hubbard. During an era when soaps were relatively tame, Nick and Althea were all about heat.
Stanley Kamel - You know his face from dozens of television shows and movies. Columbo. Hill Street Blues. Star Trek. His final role was on Monk. He was one of those "Hey, it's that guy!"s. To me, Stanley Kamel will always be Eric Peters, the handsome rake who strolled into town after his brother, Greg, and raped Greg's fiancee'. Kamel's Eric was intense - when he spoke you wanted to get in closer and hear what he had to say. His run on the show lasted only a year but, all these years later, it's still with me: the way he toyed with Susan months after the attack, and her never suspecting that he had been her attacker. Those scenes, which were part of DOOL's heyday, were remarkable. Two fine actors (Kamel and, as Susan, Denise Alexander) meshing and making the moment real and true. It's still chilling to think of how good they were together.
Honorable Mention
Benjamin Hendrickson - A great actor whose only reason for not making it to the main list is the fact that I never much cared for Hal Munson. Hendrickson's Hal was one of only two believable cops I can think of on daytime (the other being Another World's Gil McGowan.)
Justin Deas - Yeah, Hendrickson and Deas both actually belong on the main list. So, shoot me. From Ryan's Hope to ATWT to SB to GL, Deas has always delivered the goods. People who only know him from the annoying last couple of years of GL may find it difficult to believe that he belongs here, but he does. Forget latter day Buzz Cooper - when Deas has good material, he sets the screen on fire. And seriously - Keith Timmons.
Contrary to popular belief, I named and started this blog long before anyone said anything about a freaking superhero. (My oldest entries have been purged for personal reasons.) In fact, the blog's name has nothing to do with anything with that line of dialogue. Superhero Lunchbox refers to a project I've had in the works for years - a series of lunchboxes depicting my real-life superheroes: my grandmother, my mother, the women who have inspired me and helped shape me. Superheroes.
I come from a big family. I have 16 first cousins. I know all of them. We never needed outside friends, because there were always more than enough cousins to play with. B was always the best of all our cousins. Having been abandoned by her parents at a young age, B lived in our house. While our grandparents were B's guardians, my parents also took her under their wings. When we went to the movies, B came along. When we went to the beach, B was with us. At Christmas, there were presents under the tree for B. She was always more like a sister than a cousin. The best big sister anyone could dream of. B was the most fearless kid I'd ever seen. She'd jump down a whole flight of stairs, pick herself up, dust herself off, and walk away. We used to joke that she should become a stunt woman. B loved anything physical, and preferred to cartwheel her way down the block, rather than walk it. When a large group of cousins got together - sometimes 7 or 8 of us at a time - we'd often play "I dare B to -." I never saw her refuse or chicken out on a dare. She's taste anything, make any prank phone call, steal anything from any shop, ring anyone doorbell. She'd also squeeze herself into the tightest spaces, climb anything, and hold her breath for a ridiculously long time. When she was 9, my sister was 8 and I was 5 she concocted the most daring plot, ever: a seemingly fullproof plan to sneak down at night and unwrap every gift under our grandmother's Christmas tree, find out who was getting what, and then re-wrap them without leaving a trace. The plot, of course, failed. Children are not great at rewrapping gifts. But the story has become the stuff of family legend. Once, B got hit by a car and ended up with a broken arm. Do you remember how cool it was to have a cast when you were a kid? This clinched it - she was absolutely, positively the coolest person any of us knew.
When I was a kid, B was my personal Superhero.
In August 2008 B was diagnosed with stage 4 brain and lung cancer, and given four months to live. In typical fashion her response was, "Dying? Get the fuck out of here." Four months turned into six months turned into almost two years. Two weeks ago she had a grand mal seizure and was induced into a protective coma from which it was questionable if she would ever wake up. She did wake up. She woke up and spoke and asked for food, and tried to walk and asked when she could go home. She ate milk duds and drank a chocolate shake. We spoke on the phone. I told her I loved her. I told her she was my sister. I told her I wanted to see her. She said, "I love you, too, baby. Yes, come visit." I had plans to cook up a big, New York style Puerto Rican feast - the sort of food she can't get in Los Angeles, and take it down with me. Food, after all, is how my people show affection. Two days later, as I made travel plans, she fell into a coma and became completely unresponsive. The amazing medical team at Cedar Sinai told her son that there was nothing else they could do, and that the end had really and truly come. They said the time had come to move B to a hospice. B's brother - my cousin, P - refused. He didn't want his sister dying in a strange place. He moved her to his own apartment, where a hospice nurse is stationed. When I spoke to P he said, "I won't have her die alone. I'll be with her every minute. I won't have my baby sister die with strangers." B is 47 years old.
Tonight I'll fly down to L.A. How does one say goodbye to a Superhero?
When I was a kid, whenever the news reported about some Puerto Rican guy shooting someone, or we'd hear about a family member in trouble with drugs or the law, my dad would say, "Damn it - sometimes I think we're our own worst enemy!" I know how he felt.
While the queer community makes noise about Prop 8, the Tea Party assholes, DADT, Obama, and a million other injustices, it keeps missing one very important point: sometimes we're our own worst enemy. Sometimes, the bad guy isn't a conservative talk show host or a liberal apologist, a self-righteous straight person, a hospital administrator, or a religious zealot. Sometimes the enemy is the gay boy next door who lacks compassion. Sometimes it's the lesbian who, given the opportunity to make a statement about the way the media portrays us chooses, instead, to perpetuate the myth of lesbians as angry, damaged, co-dependent losers. This week? This week our worst enemy is AfterEllen.com, the website that's supposedly created an online community for lesbians.
What, besides providing a messy, badly designed, poorly written online place for lesbians to get news, share ideas and chat about The L Word has AfterEllen.com done? I mean, it's an annoying site, but it's fun and harmless, right? Wrong. So wrong. This week AE unveiled their Hot 100 list because - hey, if straight guys get to objectify women, why shouldn't lesbians? And, really, being a lesbian really is all about women drooling over other women, and not a hell of a lot else. (And, before you send me emails about how the Hot 100 list is chosen based on so much more than looks and sex appeal, keep in mind the whole thing about the Miss America pageant being a scholarship competition.)
What's so bad about AE's Hot 100 list, you may ask? What's so bad is that it's not a list, it's lists. Plural. One list consists of out lesbians. One list consists of women over 40. The third list? WOMEN OF COLOR. That's right - there's a separate list of minority Sapphic hotness!
Why is this offensive, and why does it make me say that AE is our worst enemy this week? Think about it: when you make a list of hotness, and a separate list of ethnic hotness the implication is that one is REGULAR, and the other is, well, OTHER. According to AE, white is right and brown is a fetish. Way to go, AfterEllen.com - George Wallace would be proud of you!
As a "woman of color," I cordially invite the women of AfterEllen.com to kiss my fat, brown ass.
She's the pinup queen of the new millenium. NYC's IT girl. Fun and fabulous and always at all the best places because wherever she is BECOMES the best place to be. She's von Hottie. You've spotted her at the slopes in St. Moritz, rocking a fake fur over her bathing suit. You've seen her strolling along the white sands of Miami Beach - how does she do that in heels??? Now, you can see her on Empire, where she's playing - what else? - her fabulous self...and sending the world of the Havens into a tailspin of scandal. How did the web soap score such a casting coup? I learned from none other than von Hottie, herself, who made time between public appearences to fill me in on her latest project. Fun-loving and full of laughter, I can't imagine anyone not being taken with her.
LN: First off, I have to tell you how much I love your work. You're the anti-Paris Hilton. What you do is just so fun and lovable.
vH: Good! Fun and lovable are exactly what von Hottie is supposed to be.
LN: I watched the video clip on your website - the one filmed at Coney Island. I loved it. For one thing, that's one of my favorite places in the world. But I also loved people's reactions to you.
vH: We filmed that for Current TV, and were also shooting pictures for the pinup calendar. It's funny - we were by the Freak Show, and I guess I expected them to be happy to have us there, maybe invite us in. The opposite was true. At first I felt bad, because the people on the boardwalk were all so into von Hottie. Then it occurred to me that they're in the freak business, and we were probably stepping all over their territory.
LN: When Sam (our mutual friend) sent me a message asking if I'd be interested in interviewing von Hottie, I thought for sure he was having me on. I think I told him I was holding out for an interview with Karen Black - I really thought he was joking.
vH: Sam and I were having cocktails and he said he had a friend who'd probably like to interview me. Next thing I knew he was tweeting away, and than taking our picture to send you.
LN: I demanded proof. I think I'll post that photo on my blog, if it's ok with you.
vH: Definitely post it! So many beautiful things happen over margaritas.
LN: So, I just watched the most recent episode of Empire, and it was a riot. How did you get involved with it?
vH: Brian Hewson (Empire's writer, along with Greg Turner) and I lived together a while back. Actually, Brian gave me cable. When we moved in together he couldn't believe I didn't have cable, and he had a whole list of shows that he regularly DVR'd, so he set me up with cable service. Once I got it, it was impossible to stop watching tv. I was also in a play that Greg wrote. Brian and Greg are more invested in their television viewing than anyone I've ever met. They're passionate about the programs they watch.
LN: Without giving anything away to people who haven't seen this episode, I'll just say that you end up in a compromising position at the end of the episode. Something we would never see on network television. How did that come about?
vH: Brian called to say that he was planning an epsisode that would end with a celebrity scandal, and he wondered if von Hottie could be the celebrity caught red-handed. I was definitely into it. There wasn't a script for that section yet, and Brian at first talked about the scandal being a celebrity caught snorting coke. I wasn't into that. Drug abuse isn't what von Hottie is about. So we worked on different ideas. Someone had the idea that von Hottie would be caught giving some guy a blow job, but that seemed like such a cliche'. It's been done to death. And then we realized that we had the perfect opportunity to do whatever we wanted to do. This is the internet - we can do things that won't ever get done on network television. We added the cut-out to make it into a sort of threesome, as a tongue-in-cheek commentary on the narcissism of self-made celebrity, and also an homage to Marilyn Monroe. She said something like, "Men want to go home with Marilyn, but they don't want to wake up next to Norma Jean."
LN: The cut-out is the funniest part of that scene, in my opinion. Was it fun to watch the episode, yourself?
vH: At the wrap party this past weekend they screened all of the episodes. It was bizarre because it went from high drama to bizarre comedy. I loved watching it with a bar full of people. When that last scene was over, this old, French guy at the bar leaned over and said, in a thick accent, "Good for you!" I think he wanted to invite me to the bathroom.
LN: Of course I noticed when you were first mentioned on Empire - I think it was the first episode of the season, and Orlagh Cassidy's character sees your column in a tabloid and refers to you as a hussy.
vH: They put my name on the front cover of the tabloid on the show, and then we actually did get into Soap Opera weekly, which was so exciting.
LN: Will we see more of you on Empire?
vH: I won't be acting in any more episodes this season, but my presense will definitely be felt. Of course, there might be a sort of Betty White effect, where the public demands more von Hottie in season 3.
LN: I may just have to start a Facebook group. How familiar were you with soap operas before getting involved with Empire? Had you ever watched?
vH: When I was in high school, I used to rush home to watch General Hospital with my stepmother. I loved it. That was during the Luke/Laura/ Lucky era. But then my favorite character, Stone, died of HIV, and I was inconsolable. I couldn't watch anymore.
LN: And you say Brian and Greg are the most invested television viewers you know?
vH: It's true, I've been pretty invested, too. The annual nurse's ball on General Hospital has been a great inspiration to me. I remember one birthday party, where I planned costume changes midway through. My stepmother thought it was a bit much, but I got the idea from the nurse's ball and I stuck with it.
LN: I'd almost forgotten the nurse's ball! My partner is a nurse - I'm pretty sure she'd throw up if I told her about the nurse's ball. You know, a hospital set is the one thing Empire doesn't have. Most soaps have some sort of medical story line. Maybe they need a hospital.
vH: Or they could just have a doctor. Maybe the guy who played Stone on General Hospital.
LN: You said before that you were excited when the scene with Orlagh made it into Soap Opera Weekly. I imagine you get recognized a lot on the street.
vH: I'd like to say it happens every day but, in reality, it's happened maybe five times. von Hottie is more about creating the illusion of global fame.
LN: And these days, that's completely possible. So many people who are famous are famous for no reason other than that they've decided to be famous.
vH: Yeah, and bringing it back to Empire, it's the same thing. Sort of like good, old American ingenuity. If someone like Brian and Greg wants to make a soap - they make a soap. I love that.
LN: Like this blog. I'm amazed when I write something and then find out that like 500 people have read it. I don't even know 500 people - but soap fans and bloggers are, for the most part, really nice and generous. They're cool about posting links to stuff they find on the web.
vH: Oh, that's really sweet, that you all watch out for each other. It seems there's this enormous community of soap fans who are losing the thing they love.
LN: I found out about Empire because Roger Newcomb at We Love Soaps promoted it a lot. Once I watched it, the thing I liked about it right away was that it was clearly written by people who love soap opera. I almost get a sense of that "let's put on a show" spirit from a Judy Garland movie. Network soaps are dying, but guys like Brian and Greg are putting on their own show.
vH: Absolutely. And it's the internet, so they can have as much making out as they want!
LN: I know! I love it that we see Cain and his boyfriend making out just because that's what couples do.
vH: Television has had some stuff like that, shows like The L Word. But usually it's all dramatic and stuff. I love tht the gays on Empire just make out because it's what couples do. I appreciate the making out. Brian and Greg have these online viewer polls to find out what people want, and that's what they want - more making out.
LN: Which, believe it or not, is a big deal. Empire is sort of the little soap-opera-that-could, because they're doing what networks couldn't or wouldn't do. Even in 2010, soaps pretty much always flake out when it comes to showing gay couples. So, yeah, your friends are doing something really significant when they include all of that making out.
vH: Hopefully more people will produce more content like this that does stuff the television people won't do.
LN: I'm not going to take any more of your time, but we've got to have drinks next time I'm in NY.
vH: Definitely.
LN: And I'm going to start that Facebook group. More von Hottie in season 3.
A couple of days ago the world lost Dixie Carter. If you listened hard enough, you heard an audible sigh from the LGBT community. Actually, you didn't have to strain your ears too much, because the mourners were so many. Dixie Carter, you see, was a rare gem: as iconic to gay women as she was to gay men. Where gay men and lesbians often come to figurative blows over how the world should be, what qualities we should look for in our idols, and exactly how important man-made constructs are when it comes to gender, Dixie Carter was the great equalizer. An icon we all adopted and loved. And it's all thanks to Julia Sugarbaker.
The Boys
The gay boys I know loved Dixie Carter/Julia Sugarbaker because she was bigger than life. Brash. Always well put together. A torch singer. Funny as hell. She was like - and I say this with love and respect - the best fucking drag queen you could ever hope to see. A lady, in the most traditional sense of that word.
The Girls
We loved Dixie Carter/Julia Sugarbaker because she was a strong woman. Her own boss. Practical. Not afraid to speak her mind. A woman who valued sisterhood and the friendship of other women. Witty as hell. A lady in the most nontraditional sense of that word.
Dixie's Julia Sugarbaker took the word "lady" and turned it on its ear. She wasn't a lady just because she was trained in old school Southern gentility, but because she managed to never let go of that composure, even when she was reaming someone a new one. Many people would say that a "lady" knows her place. Julia Sugarbaker knew her place, alright - up front and center. And, if a "lady" knows when to keep quiet, the lady Dixie Carter brought to life knew when to speak the hell up. She was a living example that being a "lady" has bugger all to do with accessorizing, and EVERYTHING to do with finesse, decency, and standing up for what's right.
The butchest butches and the femmiest femmes loved you, Julia Sugarbaker, as did bears, twinks, and every flavor in between. Maybe in part because we live in a world that often wishes we would sit down and shut up - two things you never, ever did until you were damned good and ready.
We will miss you Dixie Carter: actress, singer, stroppy woman, friend of the gay community. And, yes, a Republican.
Pop singer and former soap opera actor Ricky Martin announced to the public today, via his website, that he is a "fortunate homosexual." Sadly, his announcement has been met with a mixture of "Duh, who didn't know?" and "Now he comes out - big deal!" Even sadder, most of the people I've noted making these comments are homosexuals.
What you think you know means nothing
If you're a gay person who has come out to his or her family, think back to the day you came out. Do you really think everyone you came out to was shocked? If you're like most homosexuals, by the time you came out, at least one person who knew you had a feeling you might be queer. Did the fact that Aunt Bessie thought you were "funny" all along make disclosing any easier? Did the fact that Dad "always knew you'd end up being a faggot" ease the tension? Did Mom fearing you'd never make her a grandmother make your coming out a day of simple, stress-free pleasure? If you've answered yes to any of these questions, you're a liar. You just are.
The fact is, when it comes to telling the world that one is a homosexual, other people's preconceived ideas mean nothing. So what if Uncle Jerry always thought you walked funny and had a limp wrist? You're still standing before your nearest and dearest and summoning up your strength to tell them, in your own words, that you're a homosexual. This isn't about Uncle Jerry's gaydar, it's about you publicly acknowledging who you are.
If other people's preconceptions made coming out easier, no one would jump through hoops to keep people from forming such ideas in the first place. If having Uncle Jerry and Aunt Bessie speculate about you felt good, the stereotypical high school jock who secretly likes to suck cock would not be sucking cock in secret and making a public show of his prowess on the football field. If Mom's worry about never becoming a grandmother felt good and paved the way for self-esteem, there wouldn't be middle-aged wives and mothers suddenly deciding to come out as lesbians.
A True Story
In 1991, a few days after my grandfather died, my mother received a phone call from one of her brothers. He was about 55 at the time. He called to tell his sister the truth about himself: he was a homosexual. Now, my mother had known her brother was gay since the late 60s. We'd all known he was gay. By 1991, he'd lived and travelled with his "friend," Roy, for more than 15 years. They lived in a one-bedroom apartment and shared a king-sized bed. Everyone knew he was gay, but no one ever mentioned it.
My uncle must have known that most people around him had figured out his badly-kept secret, yet he waited until his father was dead to actually speak the words, "I'm gay." What's more, he cried when he disclosed this to my mother, and begged, "Please don't hate me."
I'm proud to say my mother did not respond with, "DUH - I've always known you were gay" or "Now you tell me? Big deal!" She said, instead, "How could I ever hate my own brother? I love you."
What you're really saying
When you say, "Duh" to Ricky Martin's coming out - or anyone else's - what you're saying is: This experience, of you stepping forward and embracing who you are - it has no value. It's lame and pointless because I already guessed your secret long ago. My knowing about you being gay is more important than your being okay about being gay.
When you say, "Big deal - I've known for ages" what you're really saying is: This is all about ME. Since I already knew, I see no reason why you should let go of that little bit of yourself you keep holding back from the people you care about, why you should try to be free of shame, or why you're so hung up on being completely honest for what might be the first time in your life. Since my curiosity was satisfied ages ago, there's no point in satisfying your need for self-worth.
When you say, "Wow...Ricky Martin is gay...and water is wet!" (Yes, I saw this as someone's Facebook status today), what you're really saying is: I knew he was gay because he acts like such a faggot. Only a faggot would act, sing and dance like that. I quietly hate faggots. I may not even know that I hate faggots, but I do....and I can spot them a mile away.
If you're saying any of these things, and you're gay, yourself, what you're really saying is: I'm a self-loathing homosexual. I may say I'm out and proud, but I'm actually miserable and, if I'm miserable, I don't want any other queers to be happy or secure or teeming with self-esteem. I'm the Uncle Tom of faggots.
Big Deal!
A few people I've talked to have used the phrase "Ricky Martin's coming out is too little too late." Excuse me, but...back the fuck up. I must have been out of town the day pop singers started owing us their souls.
Ricky Martin didn't come out for me or for you. He came out for himself. Just like I didn't come out to my family for you any more than you came out for me. Again, if you claim you came out to your loved ones for a higher cause, you're a liar. You just are. Seriously, stop lying!
Ricky Martin may be a famous person. He's also a person with a family, and relationships, and with the same self-doubts every person has. Being famous does not exempt anyone from having feelings of insecurity, or shame, or sadness, or confusion. If anything, living in a fishbowl might make a person even more self-conscious than the rest of us are. Martin's coming out may not be a big deal to you, but I guarantee it's a big deal for him. It will have an impact on his relationships and on his career. More importantly, I'm 100% sure it is already having an impact on how he feels inside.
The bottom line is Ricky Martin doesn't owe any of us anything. He doesn't owe us any information about his sexuality, and he certainly didn't owe us this information at an earlier date than the date he chose to disclose. Why would he? This is not a man any of us was about to marry - we're talking about a pop star who is barely even on the American radar, anymore.
What does "too little too late" mean? That you never would have downloaded She Bangs if you'd known a pansy was singing it? That Cup of Life wouldn't have been as fun at sporting events if you'd known there was a queer dude singing it?
I don't know Ricky Martin. He seems like a nice enough guy, though, and I like a few of his songs. I'm happy that he feels good enough about where he is in life that he's decided to come out. I feel that about anyone who finds themselves ready to come out as homosexual. I didn't officially do it, myself, until I was 30. Most of the people I came out to already had a pretty good idea I was gay. I'm really glad none of them were bitchy enough to dismiss how significant it was for me to take that huge step.
Limited Licensing: I, the copyright holder of this work, hereby publish it under the Creative Commons Attribution license, granting distribution of my copyrighted work without making changes, with mandatory attribution to Lana M. Nieves and for non-commercial purposes only. - Lana M. Nieves
It was awful this season, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not allowed to say that! [Gasps.] It was very telenovela. I feel like it kind of got away from itself. The whole political campaign seemed to me very farfetched. I mean, I love the show, I love my character, I love the writing, but I felt like they were really pushing it this last season.....It’s too much. It’s too much. But I hope the fans will stick with us and tune in next year. There’s a lot of people who really love this season, surprisingly.
- Chloë Sevigny discussing season 4 of Big Love with The A.V. Club
I like Chloë Sevigny, and Nickie is probably my favorite character on Big Love. I have to wonder, though, how in-touch with the show's premise, the genre she's working in, and the reasons for Big Love's popularity Ms. Sevigny can be. What, I wonder, does Chloë Sevigny think people watch Big Love for?
Excuse me?
First off, I'm not sure how much Spanish language television Ms. Sevigny has been exposed to. I suspect it's not a hell of a lot, or she wouldn't be comparing Big Love to a telenovela. There's absolutely no similarity between the structure of Big Love and the classic telenovela, which airs nightly, has a finite story arc which is limited to one season, and more often than not revolves around one particular protagonist in a struggle to find happiness and love.
What Big Love is like, on the other hand, is a traditional, American, night time serial. It's got all the elements: a weekly format that runs from season to season, multi-layered story structure revolving around a whole cast of characters, relationships, family drama, intrigue, wheeling and dealing in the world of business, secrets, lies and a host of moral and ethical conflicts. It's got supposedly good guys who aren't always likable, and bad guys who we can't help but sympathize with from time to time.
Big Love is more Knots Landing (with a touch of Twin Peaks, perhaps) than it is Marimar.
The comment comparing Big Love to a telenovela is clearly meant as a slight. Wake-up call, Ms. Sevigny: you're not on a telenovela, but you're definitely on an American night time soap, and the two are closely related. You may have convinced yourself that you were working on something "BETTER" or "MORE IMPORTANT" than that, but you're not. Serial drama - it's a genre, like any other. It can be as good or as bad as the writing and acting associated with it. You're a good actress, and Big Love is better than most shows on television, but know this: it's a soap opera, and has been since its debut.
Too Much?
Ms. Sevigny notes that season 4's political campaign was "farfetched." I'd challenge her to consider our last presidential election: One candidate was embroiled in a paternity scandal involving a woman other than his wife and a toddler who he refused to acknowledge as his child. Another candidate was a woman who many will always think of as the doggedly loyal wife of an ex-president who abused his position of authority by having an affair with a White House intern. A vice presidential candidate, who actively promoted an abstinence-only sex ed curriculum in the public school system, was forced to admit her teen daughter was in the midst of an unplanned pregnancy. This person was also surrounded by controversy involving the parentage of her youngest child, allegations of abuses of power during her tenure as governor of Alaska, and misappropriation of GOP funds. We even had a Mormom in the race.
If you'd told me, just ten years ago, that the U.S. would have in the White House a president who was mixed-race, with a Kenyan father, the child of divorce, had spent part of his childhood in Indonesia, and had a name like Barack Obama...I would have thought it a far-fetched fantasy.
Bill Henrickson is running for office and he has a secret. Big deal. Forget his three women and sets of children he supports on his own and longs to publicly acknowledge as his own; it's the real life American political landscape that's often unbelievable and "too much." Marion Barry, anyone?
It's interesting, though, that Ms. Sevigny considers season 4 of Big Love to be the point where the show became "far-fetched." Think about the entire premise of the series, starting from season 1, and it's clear the audience is expected to suspend disbelief:
No one in a conservative, Mormon community seems to think there's anything even remotely odd about two women - one who is clearly from the compound - who have small children, but no husbands around
No one questions how two single moms can afford to own or rent large, rambling houses or drive nice cars
No thinks it's odd that these two women also happen to live in houses on either side of a well-known public figure and that he and his family seem to spend a lot of time with these single women
No one has ever taken note that the three houses have an open plan and a communal yard in the back - not the mail man or the meter reader or a nosy neighbor
No business owners in this sleepy community notice that, when Nickie or Margene or Barbara enter their stores, it's never to buy just one loaf of bread or two steaks, but enough to feed an army
With three houses full of children, no one ever slips and calls Bill "Daddy" in public..and I guess none of the kids actually look like Bill, even though he's their father
No one in the community seems to have taken note of the several times refugees from the compound have landed on Bill's doorstep, en masse
The public seems to buy in to the whole thing about Bill, who is the face of Home Plus, being a regular, old LDS member, but no one seems to notice that he doesn't actually go to temple, and neither do any of his family members
Big Love is full of unbelievable details. Newsflash: it doesn't matter. No one is watching this show for its accurate depiction of the real world we live in. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who watches this show and says, "Wow...Barbara's relationship to the sisterwife who nursed her through cancer is EXACTLY like my relationship to the sisterwife who cured my lumbago" or "That's EXACTLY like the time I was forced out of my community at 16 by someone who feared I was a prophet!"
Why we watch
Soaps are a funny medium. They're often equal parts slice-of-life and bigger-than-life. Even in the days when soaps dealt only with very real, human situations, things like a favorite character's death, the birth of a baby, and the level of devotion between star-crossed lovers were presented on a grandiose scale. People didn't just die - they died beautiful deaths, in the arms of their beloved, after uttering moving, coherent, meaningful speeches....and looking like a million bucks, the whole time. Babies weren't just born - their mothers went into premature labor after sustaining great trauma, struggled for life and were saved at the last minute by emergency blood transfusions from their REAL birthfather. Young lovers didn't just hug and kiss and promise to be true: they broke into abandoned churches and took secret vows, hours before the young "groom" went off to Vietnam.
Soap viewers? We love this stuff. And Big Love is full of it, if you know where to look: Nickie's late-onset adolescence, Wanda's madness, J.J.'s creepiness, Lois slicing off of an enemy's arm to defend her son (thank God for the great Grace Zabriskie!) What are these stories really about? The sadness of a lost childhood, post traumatic stress, hunger for power, and mother-love. Slices of life displayed in a bigger-than-life packages.
Strip away the far-fetched elements of season 4: the political campaign, the embryo implants, the Mexico debacle, and what you have is simple. It's a story about an ambitious man, an extended family coping with dysfunction, women who have no control over reproduction, people who just want to be accepted, even tough they're different, and a world where "different" is always "wrong."
To anyone paying attention, the signs are clear: if the daily soap opera is going to survive, something has got to change. What sort of changes, though, are called for? What will it take to make the daily soap a good investment for networks and sponsors, while ensuring good, solid storytelling that attracts viewers?
SuperSize Me
In the past, changes have mostly been about expansion. First was the move from radio to television. This was followed by an extension of episode length: soaps started at 15 minutes long, moved up to 30 minutes, and then an hour. (Another World actually did the 90 minute thing for a short time.) Then there was an expansion regarding sets and locations - where, once upon a time, the drama used to take part in a kitchen over a cup of coffee, soaps started adding work places, restaurants, country clubs, casinos. No longer happy to keep the action in small town America, soaps started doing elaborate location shoots in places like St. Croix and Santo Domingo.
The logic behind these changes was simple to understand: bigger is often thought of as better. In all fairness, many of these changes garnered positive results. The lavish sets of the 70s and 80s were aesthetically pleasing. The occasional location shoot can be a lot of fun to watch, and made it possible to tell a wider range of stories that attracted viewers who may not have been all that interested in the traditional domestic dramas that were the bread and butter of the genre.
Bigger, in my opinion, sometimes was better. Times, though, have changed. These days, bigger is just more expensive.
Backlash: the Peapack Model
When Guiding Light seemed doomed for cancelation, a drastic turnaround was made. The show that had once boasted some of the biggest and most beautiful soundstage sets on daytime and whose location shoots in Santo Domingo and Puerto Rico were the stuff of soap legend made the move from NYC to Peapack, New Jersey. Gone were the huge, lavish banquet rooms and oak-paneled executive board rooms that made it possible to shoot scenes with crowds of 20 or more. In their place: actual rooms in an actual house - none big enough to reasonably shoot more than four or five actors in one scene at a time. Gone, too, was the rich quality of film, in exchange for handheld, shaky video. Rich lighting? Buh-bye! Hello, harsh, overhead lighting controlled by an ordinary light switch on the wall.
Some people considered the Peapack model a bold experiment. Others considered it a mess. I think it was a little bit of both. Cutting back, in my opinion, was a move in the right direction. Whereas the trend, for many years, had been towards expansion, the choice to move towards something more compact and manageable was a wise one. The decisions about where and how to get smaller, though, could have been better.
Smaller AND Better?
There's a common rule in business: if you want to be successful, study what successful people before you have done, and take your cues from there. Best-selling books have been written about nothing more than the habits of highly successful people. Professional development trainers make a lot of money running workshops that pretty much take 4 hours to tell students just that: if you want to succeed, find some successful folks to copy.
Soaps became bigger than life because their smaller incarnations were successful. Now that the big-budget, lavish soap opera model is no longer financially viable, it makes sense to go back to basics, and look at what made these shows so successful, in the first place. The only elements that need to be in place in order for a daily soap opera to gain a loyal audience are:
A core of fully developed characters who relate to one another, brought to life by decent actors
Good, solid stories that people can care about
Continuity
That's it. The rest is all icing. A daily serial does not need a huge cast, elaborate locales, special effects, or special guest stars in order to be good or to capture the interest of viewers. In fact, if it has all of those things, but doesn't have a good story or decent acting, a soap is pretty much doomed. Soaps, after all, have their roots in radio. Television is a visual medium, but the television soap was born out of an audio medium. What happens and who it happens to are the mostimportant things about a serial drama.
It may well be that the best thing the networks and sponsors can do, if they wish to rebuild viewer loyalty for their daytime lineup, is go back to basics, and return to a simpler form of daily storytelling: smaller acting ensembles, a handful of key, core characters who are connected to one another, very basic sets, and a half hour format.
Imagine if, instead of the Peapack model, TPTB at GL had decided to slash their cast of characters down to the Bauers (they could have brought back Ed and Michelle, given Rick more of a story, and integrated both Mel and Leah), Spauldings, and Lewises, with just a couple of other characters who were connected to these families (yes, Otalia.) No Edmund, or Remy. No Christina. No Coopers (an extraneous family that it made no sense to hold on to.) No Cyrus. No Doris Wolf (sorry, Orlagh, but you were not necessary.) Imagine, too, if the drama had been limited to the Spaulding and Lewis offices, the Bauer kitchen, the farm house living room and Cedar's. No more Towers. No convenience store. No Company. No wobbly, noisy outdoor shots, full of traffic and airplane noise. Just compelling stories (no clones, or magical portraits....no Bosnia) about people we all knew and loved, driven by strong dialogue, solid acting, and quality cinematography. Imagine if this version of GL had been doled out in 30 minute episodes, five days a week, with a chance to catch up on all five days via late-night and/or weekend marathon. Imagine, too, that this version of GL had been seasonal, running for 13 weeks, and airing reruns while the show was on hiatus.
Is it crazy to think American audiences would watch a show structured in such a way in 2010? They already are.
A Flicker of Hope: In Treatment
Any lover of serial drama who hasn't caught seasons 1 and 2 of HBO's In Treatment really should get the lead out. Based on Hagai Levi's highly successful Israeli series, In Treatment is the closest thing we now have to the old fashioned, small scale, 30 minute daily serial. (Do not send me emails about B&B. Seriously - don't bother.)
The show revolves around Dr. Paul Weston, a psychotherapist. It airs five nights a week, with each episode coming in at under 30 minutes. Each night of the week focuses on Dr. Weston having a one-on-one session with a particular patient. (He also sees a couple or a family, now and then.) Friday episodes usually revolve around Paul's own sessions with his mentor and psychotherapist, played by Dianne Wiest. The patients and their lives provide a series of mini dramas, but the main focus is Dr. Weston - how his work and personal lives have collided, how he finds himself at a crossroads in both his profession and his marriage (to a wife played by soap vet Michelle Forbes,) how his relationship to his children is effected by his relationship to young patients. It's about the demons Paul lives with, both as a man and a doctor...his obsession with events of the past, his struggles to maintain appropriate boundaries with his patients, and his midlife crisis.
For all intents and purposes, In Treatment is classic soap opera. If you miss an episode, you've missed something important, because each episode builds on the next one. Each patient's issues somehow touch on issues Paul is struggling with in his own life.
Shooting locations are basic: Paul's patients see him in his home. Paul sees Gina (his therapist) in her home. No board rooms or banquet halls. No television station or light house or foreign locales.
There are no gimmicks here. No evil twins. No clones. No secret cities or time travel or plots to control the world via weather machine. No car chases or hostage situations. In Treatment is about people talking. That's it. And it's compelling. What's more, HBO has renewed it for a 3rd season.
The Old and the New
While In Treatment is throwback to the way serial dramas used to be made, it's also fresh and modern. Episodes are available on-demand and for download via Itunes. The show is seasonal, which gives new viewers a chance to pick up during down time, and loyal viewers a chance to catch up or re-watch episodes. It's also available on DVD. Just last week I spoke to someone who'd just discovered In Treatment, watched seasons 1 and 2 on DVD, and is now eagerly awaiting season 3. This is virtually impossible with a soap opera that runs 52 weeks a year, with no breaks.
The people involved with making In Treatment have noted how exhausting the process is. Who would be better equipped to work within the grueling schedule than soap opera veterans? If anything, actors and crew who have cut their teeth on the one-hour-episodes-five-days-a-week-52-weeks-a-year schedule that is de rigueur in the production of American soaps would find the shooting schedule of In Treatment a walk in the park.
If the people who develop programming for daytime television are truly interested in fare that will attract viewers (and viewer loyalty), that they can sell to sponsors with confidence, they should take a look at the model HBO has adopted for In Treatment. It has all the elements of classic soap opera, in its barest form: short episodes, minimal sets, a small cast of interesting characters. By relying on the classic elements of soap opera, and putting some thought into the way people get their entertainment these days, the makers of In Treatment have created what represents the first glimmer of hope for the daily serial we've seen in a long time.
Limited Licensing: I, the copyright holder of this work, hereby publish it under the Creative Commons Attribution license, granting distribution of my copyrighted work without making changes, with mandatory attribution to Lana M. Nieves and for non-commercial purposes only. - Lana M. Nieves
