Previouslys: Elle, Dylan and Kerry in the carpark; Harold, Loris, Steiger and Janelle in the hospital; Dylan, Sky and Kerry in Sky's hospital room.
Um. This is kind of embarrassing. I completely forgot to recap a scene in my last entry. And now it has turned up in the previouslys, so it was obviously more important than I gave it credit for . It was the penultimate scene from the episode. I'd better do it now:
(Hospital. Harold, Loris, Steiger, Janelle. Everyone is ebullient, celebrating the safe return of little Kerry. They crack open some champagne and share it around. Harold doesn't want any. He's only got one kidney, and, further, he's worried that drinking it will turn him evil again, so he tips the contents away and then pretends to toast. Then, bizarrely, he also tosses the glass away. No one notices, or, at least, no one remarks upon his eccentricity. Steiger refuses a glass, because he's on duty. He asserts that it's very rare for a case like this to end happily. Especially when he's the officer assigned to it. There is much merriment and talk of enjoying the moment. Harold works himself into a frenzy, then seizes Loris and kisses her. Janelle shrugs and pounces upon Steiger. I really, really hope that they don't end up getting together.)
Sorry about that.
My note-taking is complicated by the extraordinary number of characters whose names begin "St." For the most part, I can just note down initial letters (P fo Paul, E for Elle) but when there's a couple of STs around I have to go to three letters. When Stingray talks to Steph they have to be 'Ste' and 'Sti'. My nightmare scenario involves Steph talking to Steiger. *Shudders*.
Hospital. Sky, Dylan, Kerry. Incidentally, the actor playing Kerry is called Claudine Henningson. This scene seems to follow on directly from the previous episode. "So," says Sky, "you look at her [Kerry] for the first time and instinctively know she's yours?" "Call it a gut feeling," says Dylan. Ha, ha. That's a double entendre - he's just told Sky how to massage Kerry to relieve her wind. Geddit? Gut feeling? Hey? hey? ... oh forget it. It's not that funny. I'm feeling a little restive this episode. I might go and get myself a biscuit. "Just like knowing how she likes to be burped?" adds Sky suspiciously. I think she's put two and two together. Good. This is what I like to see - the brisk, purposeful advancement of plot. She has twigged, because her next line is: "Dylan, you stole my baby!" "No," says Dylan pedantically, "I stole my baby. And 'stole' isn't the word for it." Nitpicking - the last refuge of the terminally guilty. Sky isn't interested in semantics: "I don't care! She could've died! She was premature. She was just a few minutes old ..." "She shouldn't have been where she was," protests Dylan. "I can understand you hating me, but this is a new one!" says Sky. "This isn't about you ..." says Dylan. "Then what is it about? What sort of excuse could you possibly have for putting me through three days of hell?"
Scarlet Bar. Steph, Stingray. I couldn't find any biscuits, so I've got a banana instead. I'm surprised to see Stingray in the Scarlet Bar. I'm not sure whether he's still working there or not. I thought that he must have quit. It's pretty crowded and there's a big cardboard cut-out of a horse on the counter. Streamers and murmuring extras abound. "What, mate, really? Today of all days?" says Steph. The backing track and all the noise the extras are making means that it's difficult to hear what people are saying. "Yeah, I know," says Stingray apologetically, "Melbourne Cup." "Yeah. Melbourne Cup," Steph says sternly. "I'm sorry," croaks Stingray. "Come on! Does it have to be today? This place is going to be nuts!" Steph wheedles, but Stingray is intractable: "I just can't handle being around alcohol at the moment." Enter Toadie. He's wheeling something, but I can't see what it is. "Um ..." he says to his cousin, "should you be here?" "I'm just leaving," Stingray assures him. He's as good as his word. The camera pans around as he walks out revealing Will, who's been hiding behind the cardboard horse this whole time. One of the people I thought was just another extra turns around. It's Elle wearing a hat. "Why aren't you wearing a hat, Mrs Hoyland?" she asks. She saw your hat, Elle, and she thought that it made you look really stupid.
I don't know why I'm insulting Elle's hat. It's not that bad. This is shaping up to be one of those awful 'filler' episodes - all aimless denouement and no trousers. I've got a feeling that the Melbourne Cup will prove to be today's Macguffin, while we wait around for Kerry's paternity to be decided. "[wearing a hat is] not really my thing," Steph says and that ought to be excuse enough, but for some reason she feels to compelled to offer a string of woes by way of an apologia for her millinery gaffe: "Plus I've got too much to worry about with this place at the moment. Stingray's just quit, and this place is going to be packed in ten minutes and I can't even get this stupid television to work." Wearing a hat wouldn't make any of that more or less difficult, Steph. Vis a vis the television: Fear not, gentle reader! it transpires that Will knows how to press the 'on' button on the remote control. What a hero! Steph used to be a mechanic, so I don't think that technology would hold any terrors for her, and she wouldn't let a television remote push her around. "Thanks," gushes Steph, "how did you do that?" She laughs. "Some of us have it and some of us don't," says Will indistinctly. He looks a bit spaced out in this scene - he's open mouthed and wide eyed and doesn't really seem to know how he came to be there. He ducks down behind the bar for no readily apparent reason. I rewind the scene. "Some of us have it and some of us don't!" says Will indistinctly. I hold my banana like it's a gun and point it at the screen. "HIT THE DECK!" I yell at Will menacingly. He ducks down the bar. Heh. I make my own fun.
The camera angle shifts slightly. Ahh! I can see now that Toadie was wheeling a pushchair. No evidence that there's a baby in it though. "Did you get him down?" asks Steph. "Yeah, finally," says Toadie. If it was such an effort to get Charlie to sleep, then why have you brought him into the Scarlet Bar, Toadie. You idiot. "This little dude is dancing to his own tune," observes Toadie of Charlie. Whatever that means. Toadie doesn't look very well. He's lost quite a lot of weight. I hope he's eating well, and isn't on one of those stupid crash diets. Steph goes temporarily insane. "Agh! What's going on with you Charlie? Charliecharliecharliech!" she says. Elle is a little taken aback: "You know," she says, "you look like you could use some sleep. Why don't you go home?" "What? And leave this one [Will] alone here by himself?" Steph doesn't think much of Will and neither do I. He rises up again from behind the bar. He's wearing a t-shirt with a man boxing a lion on it. Elle is desperate for Steph to get some rest. She's obviously still feeling guilty for sending her husband mad and making him run away: "Well, maybe I could stay and help. It's not like I had anything else planned." Steph looks pleased at the suggestion. Elle bounces enthusiastically around the bar, and stands behind it. "Just a client luncheon in the ballroom," she adds, "kind of boring." Will's t-shirt is captioned "MIGHTY THOR". "Well ... if you're sure ..." says Steph. Elle is so sure that she takes her hat off. "Well alright ... any problems ..." garbles Steph. I'm still having trouble hearing dialogue over the general hubbub. "Your number's first on the list," says Will a trifle too hurriedly. Why does he want Steph gone so badly? Anxious for a little alone time with Elle methinks. I knew he wouldn't stick with the disfigured Carmella. Steph makes tracks. "How hard can it be?" asks Will nonchalantly and he's angered the Irony Fairy because we segue to a shot of all the extras crowded around the bar and clamouring for drinks.
They're all shouting out their orders at the same time, which is something that doesn't happen in real life and they're all standing a metre or so from the bar, so that they're all in shot. An attractive woman near front and centre wants a white wine and she wants it pretty badly by the look of her. Seriously, she's playing the role of "woman who wants a white wine" as if it were Medea. There's a man who wants a beer, but he could, well, take it or leave it, he's not bothered and the others all seem to want rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb. Compared to the Woman who Wants White Wine, they're all rather lacklustre. Come on people! Put some effort in! Let's inject a bit of energy into this overlong and ailing scene! I suppose it's a bit much to ask of the extras. It's Will's, Elle's and the script's fault that this scene feels so turgid and superfluous. "Why don't you make a Margarita?" asks Elle crossly. Wow. Exotic - someone's deviating from the male-beer, female-white-wine paradigm. "I am!" comes Will's plaintive reply. "So why don't you use a [something or other - possibly 'gin']." I couldn't really make sense of that line. Do you use gin to make a Margarita? Actually, I don't care. "I haven't got some," says Will. I think. But it's almost impossible to hear. "OK - shufty shuft," says Elle meaningfully, "if there's anything I know, it's cocktails. Margarita coming up and a Long Island Iced Tea." I didn't even know that the Scarlet Bar did cocktails. Will produces two beers out of nowhere and we cut to the
Hospital. Sky, Dylan, Kerry. Aw. Little Kerry looks REALLY tired. I'd forgotten about this storyline in all the heady excitement of the Melbourne Cup. Dylan is setting the record straight with regard to his part in the baby-abduction saga: "I saw Scottie first ... Passed out. There's no surprises there. But I heard her crying. She was just tucked up in his arms, helpless. So I picked her up. And the minute I held her, I knew she was mine." I already knew that. How many times do we need to hear this story? This episode really is just marking time. The scene could have opened with Sky saying "So it was Stingray who took her! But that doesn't change the fact that he's Kerry's father, Dyl." And then Dylan could say "I know she's mine. I know it." Sky could look thoughtful and then the scene could end then and there. But we've got to fill twenty minutes. Hence, the endless exposition and recapping. Sky says "Except she's not [your baby]. She's Stingray's." Dylan scoffs. He's always scoffing and sneering. "Yeah. And where is he now?" Proximity to the baby doesn't alter heredity, Dylan.
"Don't you dare unload this on [Stingray]!" says a furious Sky. "I thought my baby was dead. They were dragging a lake." Really? I wondered what was going on with Sky and the baby during the forty-eight hours when we were catching up with the other characters' fascinating storylines. "Yeah," says Dylan, "I was the one who saved her!" "Then why didn't you bring her back?" snaps Sky. "Because she deserves something more out of life. More than what you and my alcoholic brother could offer her," says Dylan haughtily. Sky is coldly angry: "Huh. Is that right?" Dylan carries on, blithe, oblivious: "I'm sorry that I worried you - I didn't think that part through, but you can't tell me I'm wrong about Scott." "Dylan," says Sky, "having a problem with alcohol isn't against the law, but kidnapping is." "Ha! Not if she's mine!" scoffs Dylan. "She's not yours," insists Sky. Dylan invites her to call the cops: "The worst they'll do is lock me up." Actually, I think what would happen is that Steiger would turn up, listen to Sky's story and then say "No, you're wrong. This was a random act by a random criminal. I already decided there was nothing for me to do and removed my Specs of Suspicion. The case is closed." "But ..." Sky would say. "The case is closed," Steiger would repeat more firmly and then he'd stride purposefully out of the room to fail dismally at the rest of his police work. Sky thinks that Dylan deserves to be locked up. "Yeah, maybe," conceeds Dylan, "but it'll be tough on Kerry knowing her father's in jail and her Mum put him there. Not a good way to grow up."
General Store. Harold, Loris, Janelle and - oh no! - Lyn. "She just appeared on the doorstep!" chuckles a clearly delighted Harold. I guess he's telling Lyn, because the others were all there with him at the time. Janelle beams idiotically. "Aw! That's so wonderful! I can't wait to have my very first cuddle!" says Lyn menacingly. You stay away from that baby, Lyn, you harpy, or so help me I'll beat you to death with a copy of Stanislavsky's An Actor Prepares wrapped around a brick.
Every good story needs a villain, and Lyn Scully is the villain here. I am, of course, the hero. Doggedly watching Neighbours so you don't have to. "You'll have to join the queue for [cuddling Kerry] I'm afraid." A look of consternation passes across Lyn's face. She fumbles nervously in her handbag. "Oh, speaking of queues," she nonsequitors, "I've got to get to the T.A.B!" She'd rather be watching the horse-racing - in which she has never before shown any interest whatsoever - than sharing in the joy and good fortune of her friends. Shame on you, Lyn Scully. Shame on you. "I didn't know you were a gambling woman," says Harold, a little concerned. He's thinking of Rosie, his former squeeze who became addicted to gambling and then stole all of his stuff. "Harold," chirrips Lyn as if Harold was a particularly stupid child, "it's Cup Day!" Yeah, Harold, get with the programme. The Melbourne Cup is today's Macguffin. It's like that time Shane Warne came on the show to promote his children's charity and, suddenly, everyone, including Mishka, was fascinated by Australian cricket and was a slavering fan of the Sheikh of Tweak. And then you all forgot about it. It's the latest fad, don't you know? Lyn leaves, but her jarring, nasally delivery is still ringing in my ears.
Loris asks Harold if he is going to have a flutter. "Well, I can think of one old nag he fancies," Janelle says cheekily. She means that Harold is interested in Loris herself. Loris parries: "At least he wasn't throwing himself at police constables!" "He's a senior sergeant," says Janelle unashamedly. "Anyway, I'll catch you two lovebirds later." She winks and leaves. Loris tells Harold to pay no attention to her. "But you didn't mind did you?" He means about his kissing her. "It was a moment of unbridled joy," shrugs Loris. Harold makes that rumbly, half-laugh, half-growl that makes his many chins wobble uncontrollably. "Oh ree! ... As they say there's more where that came from." He's insinuating madly. Loris guffaws. As Neighbours has insisted time and again - sexually active old people are really, really, really funny. I suppose that since Harold's sex-life doesn't have the prurient-titillation value of the sex-lives of the House of Hotties newbies, nor can it realistically further the plot with unwanted pregnancy nor with infertility, its only purpose can be to amuse us with its absurdities. And that's rather sad. Harold reins himself in. "I'm sorry, no ..." he says, looking distraught, "I've been living with Lou too long. It's beginning to rub off." Pffft! Trying. To. Resist. Obscene. Pun. Loris takes pity on Harold: "I know you're not that sort of person." Harold seizes the life-ring she's thrown him: "It's a wonder to me that you know me at all." Loris wonders what he means. "Well," he explains, "with all the drama that's been going on, we haven't had a chance to sit down and get to know each other properly and I'd like to do that." Artfully done, Harold. I'm impressed. So is Loris: "That makes two of us. Why don't we take it back to square one? Two strangers meet for the very last time." Bizarrely, for the last part of that line she was doing an impression of Mishka. Harold chuckles manfully.
Scarlet Bar. Will and Elle. Will is surprised that Elle looks at home behind the bar, because she's Paul Robinson's daughter. He quizzes her. Elle tells him that she's "into survival." She was raised by a single-parent so she's known privation. "There must be some expectation that you'll eventually run the show," says Will, the dollar-signs alight in his eyes. He's looking to marry into money. "Yeah," says Elle, "I can't wait." "So, you're into the power trip?" Will asks. The dialogue's still really difficult to distinguish from the rambunctious background noise of the extras. "If I had the choice," says Elle, "I'd choose financial [something or other]." "So," persists Will, "you're saying that you can't be poor and happy?" I'm losing the will to live. Is this scene going anywhere? Elle turns the question back onto Will: "Well, what would you choose?" "I haven't given it much thought," says Will blandly. Wow. Rosetta was right. He has so much SUBSTANCE AND DEPTH. "Wah wha the questions," says Elle. "Could be a sticky fibbet," opines Will. Enter Dylan. Thank goodness. Maybe they'll shut up now. Elle rushes over to talk to Dylan. "Sky knows," Dylan tells her. Sigh. He's recapping again. "How else could I tell her that Kerry was mine without telling her how I knew?" "But you don't know," says Elle sensibly. "I do," Dylan avers, "I know in [my chest]." That's not where the organ of reason and rationality resides, Dylan. "Maybe this is a way of punishing [Sky]," suggests Elle. On this point Dylan is vehement: "No! If I wanted to get back at Sky, I'd have done something else." "What," says Elle quietly, "like get back with me?" Yep, Elle, that is precisely the sort of thing that he would have done. "No!" lies Dylan. "Don't start ... that baby is mine!" He's starting to sound like a broken record. "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that everyone knows." Must you, Dylan? Is that going to consist of you constantly repeating the phrase "that baby is mine" like a mantra? It's going to be very wearing. "Are you going to stick by me or not?" he demands of Elle.
Hospital. Sky and Kerry. Sky looks puzzled. Enter Dylan. "She OK?" he asks. "I just fed her," affirms Sky. Dylan rushes to pat Kerry. "Er ... Dyl," says Sky, "I'd prefer if you didn't ..." Dylan retreats. "I'm not going to call the police," Sky assures him. He looks pleased - but, wait, there's a proviso: "As long as you stop saying you're Kerry's father." Obviously, she's fed up with it too. Both Sky and I look at Dylan expectantly. He looks conflicted and then says: "I'm sorry, I can't do that." Damn. Sky tells him that she and Stingray have enough to deal with, without him making it harder for them. "If there's the slightest chance that I'm Kerry's father, wouldn't you want to know?" counters Dylan. "Well, there isn't," says Sky but she doesn't sound convinced. "You believe in motherly instincts, right?" asks Dylan shrewdly. Oh, here we go. More hocus pocus. If Dylan does prove to be the father, he'll be insufferable because it will have validated his spurious notions of a preternatural bond between parent and child. "Yeah [she believes]..." says Sky cautiously. "Well, it works for fathers as well. I know she's mine because I can feel it," Dylan says animatedly. The backing music sounds a little like The Twilight Zone theme. "And I want a DNA test to prove it." So he still has some faith in science over emotional intuition.
Hoyland residence. Toadie, Steph, Lyn, Charlie. Toadie's been briefed about what he's supposed to be interested in today. "That's the last tip I get off Karl," he says. I suppose he didn't necessarily bet on the geegees. He may have laid a wager on Stingray being the father of Sky's baby. "Tired?" Lyn asks Steph. She is. "How's Rowdy Rodney, here?" asks Toadie rhetorically. He's talking about Charlie and not any of the dubious "Rowdy Rodneys" who rear their ugly heads when you type the words into Google. Lyn is mortified. "Ah no, I thought he was sleeping through!" That was a classic example of her pompous overacting and whining, screeching delivery of a line with little or no regard for realistic patterns of speech. Steph tells her nightmarish mother that Charlie had been sleeping through the night until a few nights ago. She posits that the baby is missing Max. "Well," says Lyn knowingly, "babies do tend to know when all is not well with the world." In the whole history of the world, there has always been something "not right" with it. According to Lyn's hypothesis, this means that our poor babies must be constantly on edge. And you thought they were just teething, or suffering with wind, or in need of changing.
She expands upon her oracular knowledge of babies by saying in a bloodcurdlingly awful baby-voice. "But they just need a cuddle, don't they? even at 3AM they do." The interfering old hag is irritating Toadie almost as much as she is me. "Sometimes that's not such a good thing," he says testily. You tell her, Toadie. Lyn senses an assault on her authority: "Thank you, Dr Spock," she says with what is supposed to be withering sarcasm. I guess she's undermining Toadie's argument by pointing out that he's not got as much childcare experience as she has. He doesn't have as much shoplifting experience either, but she's not going to mention that. Her superiority is a little unfair, because it's not Toadie's fault that he didn't settle down and have a family. His wife - the love of his life - died on his wedding day. Well, technically, it is his fault that he's alone, since he was the one who drove her very slowly into the sea, but that doesn't mean that he's not entitled to an opinion on the intricacies of childrearing. Lyn tells Steph to go and sleep and she'll look after Charlie. Everyone seems to want Steph to sleep today. If I were her, I'd be starting to develop a complex. Toadie insists that he can take care of Charlie. Victory is his - Lyn's got no reason to hang around any more. "Oh, that's OK," she says, her evil plan thwarted. "And I'll see you later my handsome young man." "Lyn, PLEASE!" cries Toadie, exasperated. I wasn't so polite, hurling a string of expletives at the screen. Lyn leaves huffily. When she gets outside, a house lands on her and the Munchkins dance around singing a celebratory song featuring the ringing of bells conjoined with a joyous broadcast of her expeditious removal from this world. When their helium-enhanced voices have died down, Toadie suggests to Steph that she try something called "controlled crying" whereby, Charlie is taught that he cannot summon his slaves at will, by bawling. Sounds like a reasonable idea. Steph is a little reluctant.
Scarlet Bar. Elle. This episode's taking me much longer to watch than normal. My attention keeps wandering. Lyn glides in and the ambient temperature of the Scarlet Bar drops a degree or two. I guess the Munchkins were precipitant in their festivities. "So," she asks Elle, "how'd it go?" "It has been an absolute madhouse," Elle replies. She's been run off her feet and didn't exactly wear appropriate shoes. "I'll bet," says Lyn. She's always disapproved of Elle's choice of footwear. "I just wanted to see if you're coming home for dinner," Lyn says. Surely her presence in the Scarlet Bar can't be that inocuous. She always has an ulterior motive for everything she does. And it's usually evil. "Oh that sounds, lovely," says Elle and, to her credit, she sounds quite genuine. "I'm just going to have a quick drink with Will that's all." Lyn looks a little put-out. She has no right to be, her invitation is very last minute. "Right," she says and then adds with seeming-innocence: "No big date with Dylan, then?" And there it is. She's there to spy on Elle, and see if there's any gossip to be had or moralistic pontificating to be done.
BUTT OUT, LYN. IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.
Elle makes the mistake of dignifying her with a response rather than throwing a bucket of water over her in the hope of melting her. She and Dylan have "struck a few complications." "Ah," says Lyn, "I don't want to interfere." Then don't. If she really doesn't want to interfere, then she is incapable of stopping herself. It must be an involuntary compulsion because she goes onto say: "Do you really think you're doing the right thing, with Dylan I mean?"
SHUT UP, SHUT UP YOU INSIDIOUS MONSTER!
Elle confounds Ramsay Street's hypocritical, judgemental juggernaut by saying: "Lyn, you of all people should know that you don't choose love, love chooses you." Lyn looks struck. Elle's referring to the fact that Lyn fell for her father, who is the face of all evil in Erinsborough. Everyone in the series seems to be of the opinion that Paul Robinson is the most evil person in the relationship, but at least he is unambiguous in his wrongdoing. Lyn's subtler, unctuous, sanctimonious evil is much harder to deal with. Although she's not a murderer (as Paul is) she did accuse her own daughter of murdering her [Lyn's] ailing father and even went so far as to testify against her, securing a conviction. She's a nasty, poisonous piece of work.
We pan across to Harold and Loris, who are pretending that they have only just met. Harold presents Loris with a single red rose. Enter Janelle. "Is that the best you can do?" she asks. "One lousy rose?" Loris is less than pleased to see her: "Do you mind??" Janelle proffers her an envelope and suggests that Loris might want it. Couldn't the post have waited until she got home? It doesn't seem likely that Janelle would have deliberately sabotaged Loris's date just to deliver her mail. "It's serious." How serious could it possibly be, that it couldn't wait a couple of hours? It's outside of business hours anyway, since they're having dinner. The letter informs Loris that she is being sued for divorce and that her husband wants to remarry.
Hoyland residence. Karl, Toadie and Steph. I'm surprised to see Karl this late into the episode. Usually, if the programme-makers are paying for an actor to be there, then they milk him or her for all they're worth. Karl is being an irritating know-it-all about the Controlled Crying Technique. It should only take one or two nights ... blah, blah, blah ... controversial ... blah, blah, blah. Some people might say it "will harm the baby for life." He explains the technique, which he believes will do no long-term harm. If the baby cries, then wait five minutes before seeing to him. Then incrementally, increase the gap between caterwauling and remedy. That way the baby will learn that he's not the boss of you. It really isn't rocket science, and didn't need Karl to make such a big deal of it. He does love to be all knowing and doctorly though. Karl is needed at the hospital. He leaves. Charlie cries somewhere off set. Steph goes to comfort him and Toadie prevents her. Charlie continues to cry as we segue to
Kerry crying. Neat. I suppose. Hospital. Sky, Kerry. Enter Karl. "Is there any chance there's been some sort of a mistake?" Sky wonders. "Dylan was in here earlier and he's got this crazy notion that Kerry is his." "Well," says Karl, looking a little rattled, "the timing would suggest otherwise." But Kerry was premature! "I can't be 100% certain that Stingray is the father." Oh, Karl. That isn't what Sky wanted to hear. He was such a pious prig when Sky wouldn't tell Dylan and Stingray what was going on. He even roped Susan (contrary to his hippocratic oath - people don't just 'guess' what passes within the sanctity of doctor-patient privilege)into administering the self-righteous guilt trip. Sky would have done better to listen to Izzy when they were both in that dumpster. Karl tells Sky that Kerry's birthweight was "well below average." Which is quite usual for a first child even at fullterm. He'll have to do better than that. It gets worse for him when he admits that Kerry is much more well-developed than he would have expected. But "there was always some confusion over the dates," he weasels. Yes there was, Karl. And that confusion and fug was created by you and you alone. Sky concurs with my assessment: "Confusion? You seemed pretty certain at the time." Enter Stingray, and Karl takes the opportunity to flee. He looks troubled and well he should. I hope he can't sleep tonight and has to take some of his magic potion which makes all women look and sound like Susan to him, and doesn't affect his ability to perform sexually.
Scarlet Bar. Harold and Loris are talking. Loris tells him all about her ex and her marriage and then turns the spotlight on Harold's past. He does have a lot of past - more than a lesser man could accrue in ten lifetimes. He tells her about Madge. Loris is under the impression, that they got divorced, and Harold is reluctant to set her straight. He tells her that Madge was perfect: "Warm, funny, wonderful company." Then what went wrong, enquires Loris, "did she have an affair?" Oops. Use your noggin Loris. Harold just says bluntly: "She died." Loris is understandably extremely distressed and apologetic, but Harold waves her discomfort away, forgiving her "honest mistake". His magnanimity doesn't assuage Loris's feeling of stupidity.
Hospital. Sky and Stingray. Sky breaks the news of his involvement in Kerry's kidnapping to Stingray, thereby ensuring that we get to hear the story yet again. Yipee! Stingray is horrified to have his worst fears confirmed. Sky then really sticks the boot in by speculating that Dylan might be the father.
Maison d'Hoyland. Toadie and Steph are still struggling with the technique. Steph is a soft touch and Toadie is a hardass. It's all rather tedious and predictable. Charlie's asleep at the moment, though. Lyn enters and shouts:
"KNOCK! KNOCK! IT'S ME!!"
at the top of her lungs. Immediately, Steph, Toadie and I are united against a common enemy. I don't know why she would shout like that if she wasn't deliberately trying to disrupt their attempts to settle the baby. What is her motivation? Ah - I see. She's just "picked up a few things to help get Charlie off to sleep." She's seeking to control Steph's life and to subtly erode her confidence in her abilities as a mother. This is the kind of parenting that sent Norman Bates over the edge. She's brought lavendar bags - "see they're really soothing" she enthuses. "You can hang one either side of the cot." She's also got lavendar oil for his bath. "Ah ..." says Toadie, in one of those rarest of things in Neighbours - a line which I wish I'd come up with - "What else have you got in there? Eye of newt?" Heh. Lyn is a witch. "He's already had his bath. And he's asleep." Now she has fallen foul of the Irony Fairy: Charlie awakens and begins to wail. "Aw!" says Lyn infuriatingly. Even babies don't merit that sort of superior, patronising tone. "I'll put a little drop of this on his pillow!" I hope the lavendar oil poisons Charlie, and Lyn has to deal with the guilt of it for the rest of her life. She'd probably blame Steph and then get her convicted of murder. Again. Steph has to body-check her to prevent her reaching the baby. She explains the technique to her and Lyn looks as horrified as if there were some sort of moral equivalence between the Controlled Crying and child abuse. Here's a question for you, Lyn, since you're such an expert on childcare:
WHERE IS OSCAR? WHY AREN'T YOU TAKING CARE OF YOUR THREE YEAR OLD CHILD?
I sympathise with her predicament as a single, working mother, but she isn't working now. She's interfering. So there's no real reason for her to separated from her child. You can't really judge what Steph and Toadie are doing, when your serial physical and emotional absenteeism is probably doing more damage to your own child. And what was that nonsense about you sending him to a slumber party for three year olds the other day? It seems to me that you're desperate to escape him. Look to your own life before judging others, Lyn Scully.
"What?" Lyn says, in absolute horror. "You just leave him alone to cry his little heart out?" Yes, that's right, Lyn, they're evil, evil, unspeakable people. Steph gives her more credibility than she's worse, by pointing out that the technique is safe and that they've checked it out with Karl. Lyn's having none of it: "Duh! Babies need love, Stephie, you know that!" Toadie mumbles something indistinctly: "They wait before," is my best guess. I hope it was something really insulting. "He could be psychologically scarred for life!" Lyn asserts grandly. She means "You might make him gay!" She's an invidious homophobe. "And there it is!" says Toadie - this is the attitude that Karl derisively predicted earlier. Maybe Toadie said "wait for it ..." before. That would make sense. Steph guffaws. "Stephie," says Lyn, her authority slipping away from her, "this isn't funny!" "Mum," Steph asserts, "I know what I'm doing." "Well good on you," says Lyn, throwing an almighty tizzy, "I hope you do. I'm not hanging around to be part of this cruelty." Grrr... I hate that woman with a fiery passion. She leaves and not a moment too soon. Steph jokes that she's now in the bad books of both Charlie and Lyn. Never mind, Steph. Charlie will forgive you and Lyn can just sod off and die somewhere. Toadie decides to pick out a DVD to watch to drown out the sound of "modern parenting". He picks up The Hand that Rocks the Cradle. He looks awkward and suggests some music instead. Is that the only DVD that Steph has in the house?
Ext, Timmins household. Harold and Loris. "A quick nip of Tazzle before you go?" asks Loris suggestively. "Oh dear ..." says Jelly Belly, "I'll be up and down half the night." It's refreshing that feels that he can talk about his weak bladder in front of his date. Undeterred, Loris offers him a Horlicks. "How did you have me pegged as a Horlicks, man?" enquires Harold. "This may be our first date, but I feel that I've known you for a very long time," says Loris significantly. Harold looks uncomfortable. I hope this works out for him, he deserves a bit of stability and happiness. Loris worries that he's upset by the dramas and the appalling faux pas from earlier. He kisses her impulsively, then breaks off to apologise. Loris kisses him. Aw. They arrange to meet up for a tazzle the following day. Apparently, Harold can handle it in the daytime. Exit Harold. Loris enters the house and discovers Janelle eavesdropping. She pretends to be angry for a while and then admits to Janelle that she thinks she's falling in love again.
Hospital. Just about everyone. Sky has gathered all concerned into her room, to save herself the trouble of telling them all individually. It's the philosophy of the mass email or the round robin. It's expeditious, but not particularly tactful. Karl tells the assembly that there's a chance that Dylan is the father of Kerry. Shock horror. Sky tells everyone that Kerry, Stingray and Dylan will undergo DNA testing to establish paternity once and for all.
Hoyland home. Charlie's been asleep for eight hours and forty three minutes. Toadie calls him Damien, spawn of Satan. Maybe he and Steph ended up watching The Omen rather than The Hand that Rocks the Cradle. Aha! This is one in the eye for Lyn and her rigid self-righteousness. Unless Charlie's dead. And it was their neglect of him wot done it. Um. Eight hours and forty three minutes seems like an awfully long time for a baby to sleep all in one go.
Hospital. Janelle and Karl in Karl's office. "Janelle," Karl says. His person-recognition skills are second to none. "Come in. What can I do for you?" "I think you've done enough already," says Janelle angrily. I sit up and pay attention - looks like Janelle's going to give Karl a well-deserved telling off. Excellent. "I'm not at liberty to discuss Sky's case, if that's what you've come for," squirms Karl. Of course it's what she's come for, Karl. "Yeah, yeah," says Janelle dismissively, "doctor-patient confidentiality - it's always a convenient excuse." Karl has always regarded that particular part of his oath as optional anyway. "If you think I'm going to let you hide behind that, then you are seriously mistaken." "I'm hardly hiding," blusters Karl. If you thought you could get away with it, Karl, you'd duck under your desk right now. "At first you say that Scott's the father and then you say he's not," Janelle says, neatly encapsulating a couple of months worth of plot into a nutshell. "Mistakes occur," says Karl uselessly. "So does incompetence," says Janelle. Quite right. "Oh, OK," says Karl cravenly, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He hates it when people say the 'I' word. "Yeah," says Janelle hotly. "Not till I've said my piece. You have stuffed my boys around well and good and it has torn my family apart. If that test comes back saying Dyl's the dad, I will spend the rest of my life making you pay." Credits. My prediction is that Dylan will prove to be the father, all hell will break loose for a while and Janelle will sue Karl. Then it will all be rosy. Everyone will forgive everyone else and Karl will be let off the hook. Yet again. That was quite a good last scene, but we had to wade through so much inconsequential chaff to get to it.
Wednesday, 7 February 2007
Monday, 5 February 2007
Best. Episode. Ever.
A puzzling comment from Rosie on my last submission: "You clearly stole my bear!" she says. She has a Bedtime Bear which, instead of a sleepy moon and star, has Lou Carpenter's face on its belly? Sometimes, I worry about Nosey Rosie.
Ah! I see now that she is referring to her blog. She posted a picture of a grumpy looking Bedtime Bear together with a happier Cheer Bear. Odd to see those two side by side, since Bedtime Bear is best friends with Wish Bear. The caption reads 'Bi-polar Bears.' Heh. She posted it on 31 January, so I can't really claim precedence, but I swear that I hadn't looked at her blog since she updated it with a charming YouTube video which overdubbed the characters from Scrubs over A Charlie Brown Christmas. You gotta believe me. The Care Bear thing is just a crazy coincidence. The world can be a deeply unsettling place sometimes.
Here's a Neighbours link that's only recently been brought to my attention. You've probably seen it before, but I think it stands repeat viewings. It was filmed as part of the twentieth anniversary extravaganza and features a song and carefully choreographed dance routine performed by all your favourite actors from the show. And, oh yeah, Harold performs a rap.
Onwards, onwards to
Neighbours 01/02/2007
Previouslys.
Sky and Karl talk about the missing Kerry; Steiger berates Stingray for his drunkenness; Dylan cares for Kerry. Looks like we're going to advance the baby-abduction storyline today which, with any luck, means no Katya being blackmailed and nothing from the new, improved HoT mob.
The episode's title is 'Kerry Go Round'. Cute.
Exterior, Ramsay Street. Harold collects his paper and sighs. The Erinsborough News is asking 'What Happened to Baby Kerry?' on its front page. We hear a gasp. Harold and the camera look to the source. It's Janelle. She's seen the paper too. She's upset. A police car pulls up. Steiger and Stingray are inside it. They get out. "We can't lay any charges at this stage," says Steiger tactfully, "we don't have a body." Janelle refuses to take Stingray back, but is eventually prevailed upon to do so.
Hospital. Sky is playing with a little knitted boot and is looking understandably gloomy. Loris and Harold bring in some presents and cards from well-wishers. "It's strange being on the other side," Sky says flatly. She's lost Harold. "The one everyone feels sorry for," she explains. "The crying woman in the paper." Harold is sympathetic. He wonders if she got any sleep. Doesn't look like it. He proffers her the sympathy cards he's carrying and suggests she reads them.
Timmins House. Stingray and Janelle. "Mum, I'm sorry," says Stingray. "You're my son, Scott," says Janelle deliberately. "I'm always going to love you. Can't stop myself. But if you're responsible for all this, I don't think I can forgive you ... Do you know what the worst thing about it is." Stingray doesn't. "I always thought you were the good one. The one who could do anything he put his mind to. I don't know who you are anymore." I don't think that's the worst thing, Janelle. Surely, the worst thing is that, potentially, he's killed a baby. Cue the plinky-plonk MUSIC OF HEARTBREAKING SERIOUSNESS. Heavyhanded direction there. Janelle was selling that speech pretty well on her own, without the twee keyboard demo track. "Lying," she says, elucidating what she means when she says that Stingray has had a falling off, "stealing. This." 'This' is a euphemism for kidnapping and directly causing the death of (as far as she knows) a baby. "You want me gone?" says the hopeless Stingray. "Going to see Sky," splutters Janelle.
Hospital. Harold, Loris, Sky. Harold is trying to make her eat some cereal. She compromises by munching on a strawberry. Janelle enters. She's brought a teddy. Enter Karl and a nurse. Karl wants to set up a breast pump. If Sky isn't milked, then she might lose the capacity to produce breastmilk and Karl "wouldn't want Kerry to miss out." "Miss out?" cries the distraught Sky. "My baby's dead." The first forty eight hours are life and death for a newborn - "You said so yourself". I shouldn't give him too much credence, Sky. After all, he's not a paediatrician. He's a GP. And an oncologist. And a midwife. And a surgeon specialising in amputations. And a psychologist. And a hypnotist. But not a paediatrician. "We can't give up while there's hope," says Karl lamely. Oh why not, Karl. I'm fed up with people being brave in the face of adversity. Let Sky have a good old keen and to beat at her breast. Sky's with me on this one: "So when do I give up, then?" she asks rhetorically. "Next week? Or the week after that?" She delivered that line pretty well, but her voice went a bit squeaky at the end. I think she forgot to take a breath. "I want to go home," she says firmly. "Ah no - I don't think that's a good idea," raps hiphop Harold. I'm kidding. He says the line briskly. "Medically, there's no reason to keep her here," says Karl. Sky insists: "I can hear the other babies crying. I really can't handle it. I'm going home." Aw, poor Sky.
Dylan's hotel room. We're being reminded that baby Kerry is, in fact, alive and well and the dramatic irony incumbent thereon is reinforced. This gambit fails, however, because the baby looks dead to me. It's not moving at all, nor is it making any sounds. Maybe she was dead when he found her and he's just enacting some macabre, sinister fantasy of fatherhood. *Shudder*. Apparently, Dylan's just finished bottlefeeding Kerry. We're supposed to infer that he's taking good care of her. There are baby clothes and toys all around. He still hasn't washed his hair, though. If he does end up raising Kerry as his own, her first words will be "Get a haircut." That is, if she isn't dead. And she sure looks it. Dylan is checking out of the room.
Hospital. Harold, Karl, Loris. Harold and Karl argue briefly about whether or not Sky should go home. It really is up to her. She's an adult. Harold says: "Aw Karl, the place is full of baby things: Toys; clothes. Could you at least stall her?" Loris chips in that they'll only need half an hour. Karl supposes he could delay her with some paperwork. His mind's racing - perhaps he could completely exonerate the hospital from blame for the debacle by tricking Sky into signing some sort of liability waiver. I know his game. I'm onto you, Karl.
Dylan's hotel room. Dylan and Kerry. She's still looking dead, you know. Dylan wants her to burp and since she's silent and inert, he makes the burp noise for her. Creepy. This scenario is making me profoundly uneasy. Now it looks like he's dancing around with a dead baby. There's a knock on the door. "Sorry mate! We'll be out in a minute!" Dylan calls. He opens the door. It's Elle. "What're you doing here?" demands Dylan. "Aren't you happy to see me?" Obviously not, Elle. Just look at the expression on his face. "Yeah," says Dylan unconvincingly, "I was just wondering how you knew I was here." "Hotel contacts," says Elle matter-of-factly. Oh! Right! Hotel contacts! Of course! Silence. They're obviously both thinking about their favourite hotel contacts. Suddenly Elle says: "You've got someone in there haven't you?" I'm surprised she didn't deduce that when he called "WE'RE coming!" It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes. "Yeah," says Dylan brusquely. "What can I say? It just happened." "What about us?" asks Elle tremulously. You pretended to have a fatal illness specifically to confound and manipulate him, Elle. I don't think your relationship survived that outrage.
"We were never going to work anyway," says Dylan abruptly. "Well," says Elle angrily and sarcastically, "thank you for your honesty. I'm so glad I went to the trouble of finding you." He didn't ask you too, Elle. "You're welcome to him!" she calls into the room. "I hope he breaks your heart!" Harsh. Kerry gurgles within. Phew - she's not dead then. That's a relief. Dylan bangs his head on the door in frustration. "Oh my God, Dylan, what have you done?" asks Elle. Cut to Kerry. She's moving which is a great relief to me. Flashback to Dylan finding Kerry in Stingray's drunken, slumbering embrace. "As soon as I looked into her eyes," he voiceovers, "I knew. I knew she was mine." Hmm ... She does look rather big to have been a premature baby. Back to the hotel room. "Dylan," says Elle, "Stingray is Kerry's father, not you." "Kerry," says Dylan fondly. Evidently, he's only just now learned the baby's name. "Somebody's got something wrong," he asserts forcefully. "She's mine."
All this fatherly/motherly intuition stuff is so much hocus pocus. You don't have an extrasensory connection with your progeny, people. Elle grudgingly accepts Dylan's premise. "Well, you still shouldn't have taken her." "I can take care of her better than Sky," Dylan says grandly, "and definitely better than Scottie." Elle doesn't buy it. "You think? You took her without telling anyone." "Well, maybe it wasn't rational," says Dylan, as if that were a valid argument. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." "What about later?" says Elle insistently. "When you saw the news and you saw how much Sky was hurting." Dylan obviously hasn't been following the news, Elle, otherwise he'd have known the baby's name. "You have to take her back," she says. Dylan won't part with her in a million years. "You can't keep her," Elle says. "Why not?" Dylan wonders. "Scott's a drunk, Sky's lied about everything. How could they be better parents than me?" He insists that he is a good carer. "Doesn't she look happy to you?" Elle persists: "What about Sky? She thinks that Kerry is dead? You can't just leave her hanging like this!" "Fine! You tell her!" says Dylan dismissively. "I don't care. Nothing is going to come between me and my daughter."
He's starting to sound like Teresa-the-baby-seller. "You're just going to run away?" asks Elle. "Just the two of us and the open road," replies Dylan. "This will destroy Sky," Elle observes. "You don't want that on your conscience." Dylan's fine with it: "I'll live." "You've kidnapped her. This is a crime." "Even if I'm the father?" Elle is desperate now: "Dylan, you are wrong. This will stay with you, day and night, for the rest of your life. You will never forgive yourself." Dylan looks nonplussed. And greasy.
Harold's place. Loris and Harold are tidying. Aha! There's that big cuddly Totoro that Dylan gave Sky a while ago, when they were doing that Miyazaki tribute. Great. I roar at him. Awwrrr!! Loris is very efficient at tidying. She has anticipated everything that Harold suggests. Harold tells her to put everything in his bedroom. Loris proceeds to do so, but then pauses. She's noticed that Harold is fingering a silver rattle. "What is it?" she asks. "It was Kerry's," says Harold slowly, his jowls trembling and practically crying out for empathetic understanding. "My Kerry's. I kept it for all these years for know other reason than it reminded me of what a beautiful baby she was ..." He sighs. "I hoped it might do the same for Sky." Oh my lord, that's so sad. I'm almost crying. Harold's Kerry was killed by duck shooters, and now this! Poor Harold. Poor Sky. "How's she ever going to get through this - the poor girl." Everything about him, his voice, his aspect, his many chins, speaks of dejection and defeat. That was, I think, the single most poignant, most powerful performance I've seen in Neighbours. Every now and again, the show genuinely surprises me and I forget how rubbish it is. The door opens and Sky, Karl and Janelle enter. Harold seeks to conceal his agony, says with a pained jovialness, "Oh that was quick! We hadn't quite finished ..." Sky perceives what Harold and Loris were attempting in order to shield her from her dashed hopes and expectations and she breaks down. She flings her arms around Harold's neck and sobs "Oh Granddad." Harold weeps. Wow, I'm getting choked up again. That was a good scene - I can't really fault it. There was a little too much Loris for my liking, but her presence was counteracted by the reappearance of the giant, cuddly Totoro.
The quality of that scene has left me in such a good mood, that I'm going to dish out some praise. I would say that Harold is, as an actor, nonpareil in Neighbours. Sky and Steph can punch above their weight from time to time, but are woefully inconsistent. Paul Robinson can easily mince around the place being evil. He even remembers to limp from time to time. Lou and Toadie are okay, and can handle the odd bit of humour and pathos that's flung their way. And Stingray's done very well with the alcoholism storyline of late. Susan's good, but can come across as a bit distant and priggish and the same applies to Karl. Controversially, I would add Janelle to this list of the creme of Ramsay Street's acting talent. She reminds me of the departed, lamented Valda, inasmuch as her character started off as an irritating, two-dimensional stereotype but really developed over the course of her sojourn in the show, as the writers, directors and audiences saw what she was capable of. I think she can pull off tough-yet-vulnerable and her attitude towards her kids is, on the whole, convincing. As for the worst actors in Neighbours and, therefore, in the world, they abound. Here's a roll-call of the worst offenders: Zeke; Katya; Ned; Bree; Elle; Dylan. Without a shadow of a doubt, Lyn Scully represents the absolute nadir of the acting profession. She plays every inconsequential plot development as if it's a matter of life-and-death. She's absolutely incapable of delivering a line with believable intonation or emotion and she's got the most profoundly, teeth-grindingly awful verbal tics. Her wheedling "Stephy!" and the screeching "You know!", which punctuates virtually all of her sentences, being the worst of them. Those are my opinions at any rate. I'd be interested to hear what other people think.
Elle and Dylan and Kerry. "She's beautiful," says Elle placatingly, "I can see why you fell in love with her." "I fell in love with her," says Dylan, who's unprepared to cede any ground, "because she's mine." He changes the subject: "What did you mean before about not being able to forgive yourself?" What? I must have missed some nuance. Oh well. No way I'm going back to rewatch that scene now. "I was talking about you," says Elle. That's what I thought. "No you weren't," says Dylan and she seems to take his point. "Well, everyone makes mistakes." She notices that the keys are in the ignition of Dylan's car. Kerry's already on board. Elle gets into the driver's seat and locks all the doors. She drives away, leaving Dylan frantic. She brakes and flings her own carkeys out of the window, telling Dylan to take her car. I'd have made him wait for a taxi. You don't want a frenetic car chase.
Timmins homestead. Stingray is alone with his video camera. He is watching footage of Dylan and Sky in happier times, debating names for the baby. Sky wants to call it Rebel, but Dylan thinks that that will lead to bullying. They both agree that "This is going to be so incredible!" Stingray replays the last images. He looks pale and stricken.
Harold's kitchen. Janelle, Loris, Harold, Sky. Harold's brought everyone a cup of tea and a biscuit. "Sky ..." he says delicately, "I know you're not a churchgoer, but prayer can be a great comfort in times like this." Sky looks fatigued and shellshocked, but she acquiesces to Harold's unspoken request. "Dear Lord," intones Harold, "please give Sky some comfort in this her hour of need, and also strength in the days to come. And please welcome little Kerry into your care and make sure she's safe." I'm glad Lyn Scully's not here. She'd have piped up at this moment with some nasty, spiteful thing from the store of her singularly uncharitable brand of Catholicism. "Actually," she'd have said, revelling in the pain she'd be about to cause, "unbaptised babies can't get into Heaven. They go to Limbo until the Rapture and Christ's Harrowing of Hell." I hate her so much. Of course, Harold's not wasting his breath asking God to take Kerry into Heaven. According to The National Catholic Reporter the International Theological Commission holds that “Limbo is no longer the common opinion of Catholic theology, and as far as the salvation of unbaptized babies is concerned, we trust in the loving mercy of God.” So, there you go. Janelle looks appalled by Harold's prayer. "I'm not going to sit here and pray while there's still hope!" she says. I think she's on sound theological ground there, since faith, hope and charity are tenets central to Christianity and the only unforgivable sin is despair. I don't think that God will be angered by her outburst. Harold, by contrast, is angry. "We have to move on for Sky's sake!" he says.
Close-up of Sky. Aw. I don't think she's even aware of what's going on around her. "That little baby is not dead. And you might be ready to give up hope, but I'm not," says Janelle. She's still in the 'denial' stage of grief. Harold's grieved so many times that he can move through it very quickly. He's already reached 'acceptance' and come out the other side. "Please, Janelle," says Loris urgently. I don't think any of them need to worry about upsetting Sky. She's barely conscious. The really, truly awful thing that they are all trying to circumvent in their different ways is that nothing will make matters any better nor any worse. "Oh, what is wrong with you lot!" fumes Janelle. "That little girl needs us to believe in her!" Her theosophy has failed her. She's thinking of Tinkerbell. Every time someone says "I don't believe in babies" a baby dies. Quick! Quick! Clap your hands if you believe in babies! Janelle is furious that no one complies: "You're just sitting there praying for her soul." "That's enough now!" says Harold sharply, "not another word!"
A single tear rolls down Sky's cheek. Janelle is not for turning: "I've got as much right to an opinion as you do, and I'm not going write that little one off while there's still a chance!" Harold huffs and puffs and rejoins: "You have every right to be upset with Scott because of what he's done, but you have no right to bring your anger into this house." Ah. That's significant. Janelle's moved on from denial to anger. Soon, she'll be over the whole thing. "Fine!" says Janelle. "You lot just sit and mope. I'm going to look for my granddaughter!" She flounces out. We get an external shot of the door as it is flung open by Janelle. She looks down ... and ... finds baby Kerry in a basket on the doorstep. Ha! Ha! Ha! That was really bathetic. It completely robbed the scene of all its dramatic impetus. I loved it. "Oh my God!" gasps Janelle. Sky rushes to the door, sees Kerry and picks her up, clasping her in her arms. She still looks dazed. Aw. That's nice.
Exterior, Ramsay Street. Elle is standing by the car. Dylan drives onto the scene, gets out of Elle's car and rushes to Elle. "Where is she?" he pants. "Where she belongs," says Elle, "with her mother. I left her on the doorstep about five minutes ago." Five minutes? Hm. Dylan must have been held up in traffic. A police car roars up the street, sirens blaring. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" asks Dylan of Elle. "Yes. I'm giving you the chance to do the right thing." By denying him the right to act on his own moral authority? It was Steiger in the police car. He runs up to Dylan and Elle. "How long have you two been here?" he asks. "About five minutes," says Elle nonchalantly. "Is there a problem?" asks Dylan a touch too defensively. "Who else is likely to be home during the day?" Steiger enquires. He looks and sounds pretty panicked and unprofessional. "Steph," suggests Elle, "and Toadie's car is there." He's probably catching up on the twelve hours of sleep he claims to need a day. Honestly, Toadie. Dogs only sleep for sixteen hours. Steiger runs pellmell towards the Hoyland domus. Steiger, you should check on the baby first. If Steph and Toadie are witnesses, then they'll still be witnesses in ten minutes time. He's such a drama queen. "If they find out that you took her, then you will go straight back to jail," says Elle. "Waah!" says Dylan unexpectedly. That was weird. He collects himself. "What does it matter anyway?" he asks. "Well," replies Elle, "if you are the father, what kind of parent would you be from behind bars?" She's pandering to him, but to no avail. "Thanks to you, now I'm not a parent at all!" He's pretty miffed. "No! Listen!" demands Elle. "Now you have a chance to prove that she is yours. The right way." The wrong way to prove paternity is on the Jerry Springer Show.
Casa de Bishop. Karl, Kerry, Sky, Harold, Loris, Janelle. Karl is pointing a laser pen at Kerry's forehead. She's asleep. The laser pen flashes and beeps. "Is she OK?" asks a delighted Sky. Apparently, the magic laser pen told Karl that the baby was fine. "She's warm, she's clean, she's well fed. Everything you'd want a newborn baby to be." "Do you think I could ...?" wonders Sky tentatively. "Of course you can," says Karl. Sky picks Kerry up. Enter Steiger, breathless. Presumably, he's just interviewed Toadie and Steph. "Is she all right?" he asks. She's perfect, thanks. "No ill effects at all?" "Whoever had her seemed to know what they were doing," says Karl. "Did anyone see anything?" asks Steiger. He seems a little peeved. "Elle and Dylan must've missed whoever it was," he tells the assembled company. Um, Steiger ... why, exactly, have you ruled Dylan out of your investigations? Harold asks where they are regarding the investigation. "It's looking more and more like a random crime," says Steiger with unmerited authority. I wonder how many of Steiger's cases are filed under 'random crime' or 'couldn't be helped'. I'll bet it's a lot. "Maybe the publicity gave the culprit a fright and he's returned the child," he speculates. Janelle looks relieved. "What about Scottie?" she asks. "I'll still have to speak to him further, but at this stage he's off the hook."
That's another good day's work for you then Steiger. Well done - you deserve a promotion. Janelle is delighted. "I don't care who took her," says Sky. "As long as she's well and alive, that's all that matters." I wonder why she didn't use the more usual formation of "alive and well"? Very mysterious. Karl wants paediatrics to have a look at her, just in case. Sky's reaction to this suggestion is violent: "No! No one's taking her from me again." She has a point. It was the hospital's fault she was abducted in the first place. Fancy leaving a premature baby in a room on its own! And letting Teresa out of the Psych Ward. "You'll be there too," promises Karl before adding the terrifically patronising addendum of "We want to see the mother. You've been through quite a trauma as well." Harold chips in: "[Sky] wouldn't have to let [Kerry] out of her sight." Karl agrees and asks Sky "what'd you say?" "OK," she says reluctantly. Suddenly Janelle says "Oh God, I'm such an idiot!" Hey! That's not fair. The Neighbours characters are insulting themselves now. What am I supposed to do? She's forgotten to go and give Stingray the good news. She rushes off. Sky kisses Kerry.
Timmins domicile. Janelle and Stingray. "Oh Scottie," says Janelle, "you must have been going through hell, love, I'm so sorry." "It's OK," says Stingray awkwardly. "No. It's not," his mother answers firmly. "I had you tried and convicted without even giving you a chance. When you needed me most, I was busy accusing you. You should go visit Sky." "I still don't know what happened, Mum," says a pained Stingray. "I could've taken Kerry five times over." "Don't talk like that!" Janelle can't handle unleavened truth. Stingray admits that "I don't have control anymore." Good. It sounds as though he's ready to take the first of the Twelve Steps. "Each day I wake up and think: 'Yeah. Today. A fresh new start.' But each night I wind up somewhere with a bottle in my hand. I don't know anything anymore. Kerry would be better off without me." Janelle is struck. "No! Sweetheart! She won't be. That little girl needs you. If that's not a good enough reason to kick the bottle, then I don't know what is."
We're somewhere I've never seen before. Ah. It's Stingray's AA Meeting. Looks pretty laid back and comfortable - everyone is sitting in armchairs. Stingray is standing in the front. "Hi, my name's Scott and I'm an alcoholic," he says. He gives everyone a summary of the plot elements he's been involved in over the last few weeks, before concluding that "I hate myself and pretty soon everyone else will too." I don't hate you Stingray. In my eyes, you can never be such a loathsome character as Lyn Scully is.
Hospital. Karl and Sky. "So no more poking and prodding?" asks Sky. What have they been up to? "She didn't seem to mind, did she?" Oh, Karl's been examining the baby. "I still can't believe she's come so early." A look of consternation passes across Karl's visage. "Yes," he says pensively, "that's true. She is very strong." Is it possible that Karl got it wrong as to the baby's paternity? Enter Stingray. He just wanted to see for himself that the baby was OK. He tells Sky that he is getting help and that he will never let her down again. Sky tells him not to let himself down. He looks sheepish.
Bishop residence. Sky and Kerry. Enter Dylan. Sky is struggling to get Kerry off to sleep. She's changed her and fed her. Dylan suggests she needs to be burped. He tells Sky not to pat her on the back, but to massage it. Firmly, but not too firmly. Sky wonders how he knows so much about Kerry's needs. Dylan tells her that it's because he's sure that she's his daughter. From the hints we've been getting and the look on Karl's face just now, he may well be right.
Credits.
Ah! I see now that she is referring to her blog. She posted a picture of a grumpy looking Bedtime Bear together with a happier Cheer Bear. Odd to see those two side by side, since Bedtime Bear is best friends with Wish Bear. The caption reads 'Bi-polar Bears.' Heh. She posted it on 31 January, so I can't really claim precedence, but I swear that I hadn't looked at her blog since she updated it with a charming YouTube video which overdubbed the characters from Scrubs over A Charlie Brown Christmas. You gotta believe me. The Care Bear thing is just a crazy coincidence. The world can be a deeply unsettling place sometimes.
Here's a Neighbours link that's only recently been brought to my attention. You've probably seen it before, but I think it stands repeat viewings. It was filmed as part of the twentieth anniversary extravaganza and features a song and carefully choreographed dance routine performed by all your favourite actors from the show. And, oh yeah, Harold performs a rap.
Onwards, onwards to
Neighbours 01/02/2007
Previouslys.
Sky and Karl talk about the missing Kerry; Steiger berates Stingray for his drunkenness; Dylan cares for Kerry. Looks like we're going to advance the baby-abduction storyline today which, with any luck, means no Katya being blackmailed and nothing from the new, improved HoT mob.
The episode's title is 'Kerry Go Round'. Cute.
Exterior, Ramsay Street. Harold collects his paper and sighs. The Erinsborough News is asking 'What Happened to Baby Kerry?' on its front page. We hear a gasp. Harold and the camera look to the source. It's Janelle. She's seen the paper too. She's upset. A police car pulls up. Steiger and Stingray are inside it. They get out. "We can't lay any charges at this stage," says Steiger tactfully, "we don't have a body." Janelle refuses to take Stingray back, but is eventually prevailed upon to do so.
Hospital. Sky is playing with a little knitted boot and is looking understandably gloomy. Loris and Harold bring in some presents and cards from well-wishers. "It's strange being on the other side," Sky says flatly. She's lost Harold. "The one everyone feels sorry for," she explains. "The crying woman in the paper." Harold is sympathetic. He wonders if she got any sleep. Doesn't look like it. He proffers her the sympathy cards he's carrying and suggests she reads them.
Timmins House. Stingray and Janelle. "Mum, I'm sorry," says Stingray. "You're my son, Scott," says Janelle deliberately. "I'm always going to love you. Can't stop myself. But if you're responsible for all this, I don't think I can forgive you ... Do you know what the worst thing about it is." Stingray doesn't. "I always thought you were the good one. The one who could do anything he put his mind to. I don't know who you are anymore." I don't think that's the worst thing, Janelle. Surely, the worst thing is that, potentially, he's killed a baby. Cue the plinky-plonk MUSIC OF HEARTBREAKING SERIOUSNESS. Heavyhanded direction there. Janelle was selling that speech pretty well on her own, without the twee keyboard demo track. "Lying," she says, elucidating what she means when she says that Stingray has had a falling off, "stealing. This." 'This' is a euphemism for kidnapping and directly causing the death of (as far as she knows) a baby. "You want me gone?" says the hopeless Stingray. "Going to see Sky," splutters Janelle.
Hospital. Harold, Loris, Sky. Harold is trying to make her eat some cereal. She compromises by munching on a strawberry. Janelle enters. She's brought a teddy. Enter Karl and a nurse. Karl wants to set up a breast pump. If Sky isn't milked, then she might lose the capacity to produce breastmilk and Karl "wouldn't want Kerry to miss out." "Miss out?" cries the distraught Sky. "My baby's dead." The first forty eight hours are life and death for a newborn - "You said so yourself". I shouldn't give him too much credence, Sky. After all, he's not a paediatrician. He's a GP. And an oncologist. And a midwife. And a surgeon specialising in amputations. And a psychologist. And a hypnotist. But not a paediatrician. "We can't give up while there's hope," says Karl lamely. Oh why not, Karl. I'm fed up with people being brave in the face of adversity. Let Sky have a good old keen and to beat at her breast. Sky's with me on this one: "So when do I give up, then?" she asks rhetorically. "Next week? Or the week after that?" She delivered that line pretty well, but her voice went a bit squeaky at the end. I think she forgot to take a breath. "I want to go home," she says firmly. "Ah no - I don't think that's a good idea," raps hiphop Harold. I'm kidding. He says the line briskly. "Medically, there's no reason to keep her here," says Karl. Sky insists: "I can hear the other babies crying. I really can't handle it. I'm going home." Aw, poor Sky.
Dylan's hotel room. We're being reminded that baby Kerry is, in fact, alive and well and the dramatic irony incumbent thereon is reinforced. This gambit fails, however, because the baby looks dead to me. It's not moving at all, nor is it making any sounds. Maybe she was dead when he found her and he's just enacting some macabre, sinister fantasy of fatherhood. *Shudder*. Apparently, Dylan's just finished bottlefeeding Kerry. We're supposed to infer that he's taking good care of her. There are baby clothes and toys all around. He still hasn't washed his hair, though. If he does end up raising Kerry as his own, her first words will be "Get a haircut." That is, if she isn't dead. And she sure looks it. Dylan is checking out of the room.
Hospital. Harold, Karl, Loris. Harold and Karl argue briefly about whether or not Sky should go home. It really is up to her. She's an adult. Harold says: "Aw Karl, the place is full of baby things: Toys; clothes. Could you at least stall her?" Loris chips in that they'll only need half an hour. Karl supposes he could delay her with some paperwork. His mind's racing - perhaps he could completely exonerate the hospital from blame for the debacle by tricking Sky into signing some sort of liability waiver. I know his game. I'm onto you, Karl.
Dylan's hotel room. Dylan and Kerry. She's still looking dead, you know. Dylan wants her to burp and since she's silent and inert, he makes the burp noise for her. Creepy. This scenario is making me profoundly uneasy. Now it looks like he's dancing around with a dead baby. There's a knock on the door. "Sorry mate! We'll be out in a minute!" Dylan calls. He opens the door. It's Elle. "What're you doing here?" demands Dylan. "Aren't you happy to see me?" Obviously not, Elle. Just look at the expression on his face. "Yeah," says Dylan unconvincingly, "I was just wondering how you knew I was here." "Hotel contacts," says Elle matter-of-factly. Oh! Right! Hotel contacts! Of course! Silence. They're obviously both thinking about their favourite hotel contacts. Suddenly Elle says: "You've got someone in there haven't you?" I'm surprised she didn't deduce that when he called "WE'RE coming!" It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes. "Yeah," says Dylan brusquely. "What can I say? It just happened." "What about us?" asks Elle tremulously. You pretended to have a fatal illness specifically to confound and manipulate him, Elle. I don't think your relationship survived that outrage.
"We were never going to work anyway," says Dylan abruptly. "Well," says Elle angrily and sarcastically, "thank you for your honesty. I'm so glad I went to the trouble of finding you." He didn't ask you too, Elle. "You're welcome to him!" she calls into the room. "I hope he breaks your heart!" Harsh. Kerry gurgles within. Phew - she's not dead then. That's a relief. Dylan bangs his head on the door in frustration. "Oh my God, Dylan, what have you done?" asks Elle. Cut to Kerry. She's moving which is a great relief to me. Flashback to Dylan finding Kerry in Stingray's drunken, slumbering embrace. "As soon as I looked into her eyes," he voiceovers, "I knew. I knew she was mine." Hmm ... She does look rather big to have been a premature baby. Back to the hotel room. "Dylan," says Elle, "Stingray is Kerry's father, not you." "Kerry," says Dylan fondly. Evidently, he's only just now learned the baby's name. "Somebody's got something wrong," he asserts forcefully. "She's mine."
All this fatherly/motherly intuition stuff is so much hocus pocus. You don't have an extrasensory connection with your progeny, people. Elle grudgingly accepts Dylan's premise. "Well, you still shouldn't have taken her." "I can take care of her better than Sky," Dylan says grandly, "and definitely better than Scottie." Elle doesn't buy it. "You think? You took her without telling anyone." "Well, maybe it wasn't rational," says Dylan, as if that were a valid argument. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." "What about later?" says Elle insistently. "When you saw the news and you saw how much Sky was hurting." Dylan obviously hasn't been following the news, Elle, otherwise he'd have known the baby's name. "You have to take her back," she says. Dylan won't part with her in a million years. "You can't keep her," Elle says. "Why not?" Dylan wonders. "Scott's a drunk, Sky's lied about everything. How could they be better parents than me?" He insists that he is a good carer. "Doesn't she look happy to you?" Elle persists: "What about Sky? She thinks that Kerry is dead? You can't just leave her hanging like this!" "Fine! You tell her!" says Dylan dismissively. "I don't care. Nothing is going to come between me and my daughter."
He's starting to sound like Teresa-the-baby-seller. "You're just going to run away?" asks Elle. "Just the two of us and the open road," replies Dylan. "This will destroy Sky," Elle observes. "You don't want that on your conscience." Dylan's fine with it: "I'll live." "You've kidnapped her. This is a crime." "Even if I'm the father?" Elle is desperate now: "Dylan, you are wrong. This will stay with you, day and night, for the rest of your life. You will never forgive yourself." Dylan looks nonplussed. And greasy.
Harold's place. Loris and Harold are tidying. Aha! There's that big cuddly Totoro that Dylan gave Sky a while ago, when they were doing that Miyazaki tribute. Great. I roar at him. Awwrrr!! Loris is very efficient at tidying. She has anticipated everything that Harold suggests. Harold tells her to put everything in his bedroom. Loris proceeds to do so, but then pauses. She's noticed that Harold is fingering a silver rattle. "What is it?" she asks. "It was Kerry's," says Harold slowly, his jowls trembling and practically crying out for empathetic understanding. "My Kerry's. I kept it for all these years for know other reason than it reminded me of what a beautiful baby she was ..." He sighs. "I hoped it might do the same for Sky." Oh my lord, that's so sad. I'm almost crying. Harold's Kerry was killed by duck shooters, and now this! Poor Harold. Poor Sky. "How's she ever going to get through this - the poor girl." Everything about him, his voice, his aspect, his many chins, speaks of dejection and defeat. That was, I think, the single most poignant, most powerful performance I've seen in Neighbours. Every now and again, the show genuinely surprises me and I forget how rubbish it is. The door opens and Sky, Karl and Janelle enter. Harold seeks to conceal his agony, says with a pained jovialness, "Oh that was quick! We hadn't quite finished ..." Sky perceives what Harold and Loris were attempting in order to shield her from her dashed hopes and expectations and she breaks down. She flings her arms around Harold's neck and sobs "Oh Granddad." Harold weeps. Wow, I'm getting choked up again. That was a good scene - I can't really fault it. There was a little too much Loris for my liking, but her presence was counteracted by the reappearance of the giant, cuddly Totoro.
The quality of that scene has left me in such a good mood, that I'm going to dish out some praise. I would say that Harold is, as an actor, nonpareil in Neighbours. Sky and Steph can punch above their weight from time to time, but are woefully inconsistent. Paul Robinson can easily mince around the place being evil. He even remembers to limp from time to time. Lou and Toadie are okay, and can handle the odd bit of humour and pathos that's flung their way. And Stingray's done very well with the alcoholism storyline of late. Susan's good, but can come across as a bit distant and priggish and the same applies to Karl. Controversially, I would add Janelle to this list of the creme of Ramsay Street's acting talent. She reminds me of the departed, lamented Valda, inasmuch as her character started off as an irritating, two-dimensional stereotype but really developed over the course of her sojourn in the show, as the writers, directors and audiences saw what she was capable of. I think she can pull off tough-yet-vulnerable and her attitude towards her kids is, on the whole, convincing. As for the worst actors in Neighbours and, therefore, in the world, they abound. Here's a roll-call of the worst offenders: Zeke; Katya; Ned; Bree; Elle; Dylan. Without a shadow of a doubt, Lyn Scully represents the absolute nadir of the acting profession. She plays every inconsequential plot development as if it's a matter of life-and-death. She's absolutely incapable of delivering a line with believable intonation or emotion and she's got the most profoundly, teeth-grindingly awful verbal tics. Her wheedling "Stephy!" and the screeching "You know!", which punctuates virtually all of her sentences, being the worst of them. Those are my opinions at any rate. I'd be interested to hear what other people think.
Elle and Dylan and Kerry. "She's beautiful," says Elle placatingly, "I can see why you fell in love with her." "I fell in love with her," says Dylan, who's unprepared to cede any ground, "because she's mine." He changes the subject: "What did you mean before about not being able to forgive yourself?" What? I must have missed some nuance. Oh well. No way I'm going back to rewatch that scene now. "I was talking about you," says Elle. That's what I thought. "No you weren't," says Dylan and she seems to take his point. "Well, everyone makes mistakes." She notices that the keys are in the ignition of Dylan's car. Kerry's already on board. Elle gets into the driver's seat and locks all the doors. She drives away, leaving Dylan frantic. She brakes and flings her own carkeys out of the window, telling Dylan to take her car. I'd have made him wait for a taxi. You don't want a frenetic car chase.
Timmins homestead. Stingray is alone with his video camera. He is watching footage of Dylan and Sky in happier times, debating names for the baby. Sky wants to call it Rebel, but Dylan thinks that that will lead to bullying. They both agree that "This is going to be so incredible!" Stingray replays the last images. He looks pale and stricken.
Harold's kitchen. Janelle, Loris, Harold, Sky. Harold's brought everyone a cup of tea and a biscuit. "Sky ..." he says delicately, "I know you're not a churchgoer, but prayer can be a great comfort in times like this." Sky looks fatigued and shellshocked, but she acquiesces to Harold's unspoken request. "Dear Lord," intones Harold, "please give Sky some comfort in this her hour of need, and also strength in the days to come. And please welcome little Kerry into your care and make sure she's safe." I'm glad Lyn Scully's not here. She'd have piped up at this moment with some nasty, spiteful thing from the store of her singularly uncharitable brand of Catholicism. "Actually," she'd have said, revelling in the pain she'd be about to cause, "unbaptised babies can't get into Heaven. They go to Limbo until the Rapture and Christ's Harrowing of Hell." I hate her so much. Of course, Harold's not wasting his breath asking God to take Kerry into Heaven. According to The National Catholic Reporter the International Theological Commission holds that “Limbo is no longer the common opinion of Catholic theology, and as far as the salvation of unbaptized babies is concerned, we trust in the loving mercy of God.” So, there you go. Janelle looks appalled by Harold's prayer. "I'm not going to sit here and pray while there's still hope!" she says. I think she's on sound theological ground there, since faith, hope and charity are tenets central to Christianity and the only unforgivable sin is despair. I don't think that God will be angered by her outburst. Harold, by contrast, is angry. "We have to move on for Sky's sake!" he says.
Close-up of Sky. Aw. I don't think she's even aware of what's going on around her. "That little baby is not dead. And you might be ready to give up hope, but I'm not," says Janelle. She's still in the 'denial' stage of grief. Harold's grieved so many times that he can move through it very quickly. He's already reached 'acceptance' and come out the other side. "Please, Janelle," says Loris urgently. I don't think any of them need to worry about upsetting Sky. She's barely conscious. The really, truly awful thing that they are all trying to circumvent in their different ways is that nothing will make matters any better nor any worse. "Oh, what is wrong with you lot!" fumes Janelle. "That little girl needs us to believe in her!" Her theosophy has failed her. She's thinking of Tinkerbell. Every time someone says "I don't believe in babies" a baby dies. Quick! Quick! Clap your hands if you believe in babies! Janelle is furious that no one complies: "You're just sitting there praying for her soul." "That's enough now!" says Harold sharply, "not another word!"
A single tear rolls down Sky's cheek. Janelle is not for turning: "I've got as much right to an opinion as you do, and I'm not going write that little one off while there's still a chance!" Harold huffs and puffs and rejoins: "You have every right to be upset with Scott because of what he's done, but you have no right to bring your anger into this house." Ah. That's significant. Janelle's moved on from denial to anger. Soon, she'll be over the whole thing. "Fine!" says Janelle. "You lot just sit and mope. I'm going to look for my granddaughter!" She flounces out. We get an external shot of the door as it is flung open by Janelle. She looks down ... and ... finds baby Kerry in a basket on the doorstep. Ha! Ha! Ha! That was really bathetic. It completely robbed the scene of all its dramatic impetus. I loved it. "Oh my God!" gasps Janelle. Sky rushes to the door, sees Kerry and picks her up, clasping her in her arms. She still looks dazed. Aw. That's nice.
Exterior, Ramsay Street. Elle is standing by the car. Dylan drives onto the scene, gets out of Elle's car and rushes to Elle. "Where is she?" he pants. "Where she belongs," says Elle, "with her mother. I left her on the doorstep about five minutes ago." Five minutes? Hm. Dylan must have been held up in traffic. A police car roars up the street, sirens blaring. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" asks Dylan of Elle. "Yes. I'm giving you the chance to do the right thing." By denying him the right to act on his own moral authority? It was Steiger in the police car. He runs up to Dylan and Elle. "How long have you two been here?" he asks. "About five minutes," says Elle nonchalantly. "Is there a problem?" asks Dylan a touch too defensively. "Who else is likely to be home during the day?" Steiger enquires. He looks and sounds pretty panicked and unprofessional. "Steph," suggests Elle, "and Toadie's car is there." He's probably catching up on the twelve hours of sleep he claims to need a day. Honestly, Toadie. Dogs only sleep for sixteen hours. Steiger runs pellmell towards the Hoyland domus. Steiger, you should check on the baby first. If Steph and Toadie are witnesses, then they'll still be witnesses in ten minutes time. He's such a drama queen. "If they find out that you took her, then you will go straight back to jail," says Elle. "Waah!" says Dylan unexpectedly. That was weird. He collects himself. "What does it matter anyway?" he asks. "Well," replies Elle, "if you are the father, what kind of parent would you be from behind bars?" She's pandering to him, but to no avail. "Thanks to you, now I'm not a parent at all!" He's pretty miffed. "No! Listen!" demands Elle. "Now you have a chance to prove that she is yours. The right way." The wrong way to prove paternity is on the Jerry Springer Show.
Casa de Bishop. Karl, Kerry, Sky, Harold, Loris, Janelle. Karl is pointing a laser pen at Kerry's forehead. She's asleep. The laser pen flashes and beeps. "Is she OK?" asks a delighted Sky. Apparently, the magic laser pen told Karl that the baby was fine. "She's warm, she's clean, she's well fed. Everything you'd want a newborn baby to be." "Do you think I could ...?" wonders Sky tentatively. "Of course you can," says Karl. Sky picks Kerry up. Enter Steiger, breathless. Presumably, he's just interviewed Toadie and Steph. "Is she all right?" he asks. She's perfect, thanks. "No ill effects at all?" "Whoever had her seemed to know what they were doing," says Karl. "Did anyone see anything?" asks Steiger. He seems a little peeved. "Elle and Dylan must've missed whoever it was," he tells the assembled company. Um, Steiger ... why, exactly, have you ruled Dylan out of your investigations? Harold asks where they are regarding the investigation. "It's looking more and more like a random crime," says Steiger with unmerited authority. I wonder how many of Steiger's cases are filed under 'random crime' or 'couldn't be helped'. I'll bet it's a lot. "Maybe the publicity gave the culprit a fright and he's returned the child," he speculates. Janelle looks relieved. "What about Scottie?" she asks. "I'll still have to speak to him further, but at this stage he's off the hook."
That's another good day's work for you then Steiger. Well done - you deserve a promotion. Janelle is delighted. "I don't care who took her," says Sky. "As long as she's well and alive, that's all that matters." I wonder why she didn't use the more usual formation of "alive and well"? Very mysterious. Karl wants paediatrics to have a look at her, just in case. Sky's reaction to this suggestion is violent: "No! No one's taking her from me again." She has a point. It was the hospital's fault she was abducted in the first place. Fancy leaving a premature baby in a room on its own! And letting Teresa out of the Psych Ward. "You'll be there too," promises Karl before adding the terrifically patronising addendum of "We want to see the mother. You've been through quite a trauma as well." Harold chips in: "[Sky] wouldn't have to let [Kerry] out of her sight." Karl agrees and asks Sky "what'd you say?" "OK," she says reluctantly. Suddenly Janelle says "Oh God, I'm such an idiot!" Hey! That's not fair. The Neighbours characters are insulting themselves now. What am I supposed to do? She's forgotten to go and give Stingray the good news. She rushes off. Sky kisses Kerry.
Timmins domicile. Janelle and Stingray. "Oh Scottie," says Janelle, "you must have been going through hell, love, I'm so sorry." "It's OK," says Stingray awkwardly. "No. It's not," his mother answers firmly. "I had you tried and convicted without even giving you a chance. When you needed me most, I was busy accusing you. You should go visit Sky." "I still don't know what happened, Mum," says a pained Stingray. "I could've taken Kerry five times over." "Don't talk like that!" Janelle can't handle unleavened truth. Stingray admits that "I don't have control anymore." Good. It sounds as though he's ready to take the first of the Twelve Steps. "Each day I wake up and think: 'Yeah. Today. A fresh new start.' But each night I wind up somewhere with a bottle in my hand. I don't know anything anymore. Kerry would be better off without me." Janelle is struck. "No! Sweetheart! She won't be. That little girl needs you. If that's not a good enough reason to kick the bottle, then I don't know what is."
We're somewhere I've never seen before. Ah. It's Stingray's AA Meeting. Looks pretty laid back and comfortable - everyone is sitting in armchairs. Stingray is standing in the front. "Hi, my name's Scott and I'm an alcoholic," he says. He gives everyone a summary of the plot elements he's been involved in over the last few weeks, before concluding that "I hate myself and pretty soon everyone else will too." I don't hate you Stingray. In my eyes, you can never be such a loathsome character as Lyn Scully is.
Hospital. Karl and Sky. "So no more poking and prodding?" asks Sky. What have they been up to? "She didn't seem to mind, did she?" Oh, Karl's been examining the baby. "I still can't believe she's come so early." A look of consternation passes across Karl's visage. "Yes," he says pensively, "that's true. She is very strong." Is it possible that Karl got it wrong as to the baby's paternity? Enter Stingray. He just wanted to see for himself that the baby was OK. He tells Sky that he is getting help and that he will never let her down again. Sky tells him not to let himself down. He looks sheepish.
Bishop residence. Sky and Kerry. Enter Dylan. Sky is struggling to get Kerry off to sleep. She's changed her and fed her. Dylan suggests she needs to be burped. He tells Sky not to pat her on the back, but to massage it. Firmly, but not too firmly. Sky wonders how he knows so much about Kerry's needs. Dylan tells her that it's because he's sure that she's his daughter. From the hints we've been getting and the look on Karl's face just now, he may well be right.
Credits.
Saturday, 3 February 2007
That's When Good Neighbours Become Good Friends
No one will watch Neighbours with me any more. People don't like the way I pause the show at the end of every scene to update my notes, nor the way I rewind it to watch snippets of dialogue over and over again, trying to tease out every subtlety, every nuance of meaning and performance. They also hate the way I reel off witty insults, and scream abuse at the characters as if they were real people.
Neighbours 31/01/2007
The Previouslys show Ned and Katya Kinski the Kleptomaniac and the BMW and Mishka and Lou. Doesn't look like the abduction storyline will advance any. And I'd forgotten all about Mishka.
The title of the episode is "Can You Sleep a Secret?" Hmm ... There's a novel by Sophie Kinsella called Can You Keep a Secret and a movie version is in production. However, it's probable that the title is merely alluding to the commonplace question, which always presages a juicy tidbit of Class A gossip. I can't for the life of me imagine what the title is referring to. I guess I'll have to wait and see.
Scarlet Bar. Steph and Lyn. Enter Toadie. "Here's Iron Man himself," snickers Lyn. I suppose she's referring to the fact that Toadie's no body-builder. That's very unfair - Toadie's been trying really hard to get in shape. So shut up, Big Nose (Loris implied that Lyn was possessed of prodigious olfactory equipment yesterday, and it seemed to get to her, so I'm going to continue to chip away at her confidence). It transpires that Lyn is actually guffawing at a dream that Steph had, which involved her kissing Toadie. What, is she twelve? Dreams seldom mean very much. I had a dream the other night where I was stabbing Lyn Scully repeatedly in the back with a kitchen knife, but the blade was too flimsy, so try as I might, I couldn't penetrate her scapula. And that didn't mean anything. Actually, seeing it written down, it does look like the sort of dream that Freud would get excited about, but let's not waste time with pyschoanalysis. "Imagine us two [her and Toadie] together!" laughs Steph. Toadie doesn't find the thought amusing.
General Store. Ned and Katya. Nothing of any interest whatsoever is said. Ned leaves. Enter Mishka, crosses to Lou. She hates to be leaving her Lou Bear, with the baby gone and so much worry all around. Lou insists that he will be fine. Mishka is having none of it: "You put on brave face, but you not fool Mishka. I stay and be pushing you up!" Ah! Mishka's manner of speaking is so quaint and hilarious!
Lou Bear ("Lou Bear - Stare!") replies: "Well, you know me, I never worry unless there's something to worry about and there's no bad news and I'm taking that as good news." Um. There's a fine line between optimism and out-and-out delusion, Lou. What he is worried about is Mishka losing her job. "OK Lou Bear," says Mishka, "I just ring airline and find out what time we take off. Maybe I have few more minutes." Consistent with an earlier episode, she's still not rostered apparently. She speaks in Russian. Actually, for all I know, it might be gobbledygook, but it sounds Russian to my untrained ear. "For us," says Mishka, "is much good news!" Mechanical problems have grounded the plane. Convenient. Too convenient? I waggle my eyebrows suggestively at Mishka. "Well, praise be for Russian maintenance!" says Lou, casually applying a racial stereotype to the Russian people. "Because, if truth be known, I need all the pushing up I can get!" "Wica, wica, wica, Waah!" says the backing music of old people about to have sex.
General Store. Ned and Toadie. Toadie is wittering on about responsibility, and Ned's just eating a burger and not listening. Toadie upbraids him for it. I'm on Ned's side. I wasn't listening to Toadie either. He wants Ned's help to get back into his own house. Ned is surprised - he thought that Toadie was happy with Steph and that she was "stoked to have him there". He's mistaken. Charlie screams all night, so Toadie can't get his full twelve hours. Twelve hours??? The lazy arse. Eight hours is more than sufficient. And I thought he was a highflying lawyer. Where on earth does he find the time? "I'll take your Charlie and raise you a Pepper," says Ned. "She talks in her sleep, when she's not screaming." And she sleepwalks. The other night she patted Ned on the head and said something about a dolphin. I'd imagine she said "Lyn Scully has such a big nose. She reminds me of a dolphin."
"Well, then," says Toadie triumphantly, "if [Pepper's] such a pain then kick her out." "But she's such a grass chick," protests Ned. "I'm a grass bloke who wants a room in his own house," replies Toadie. He's got you there, Ned. "Just do it! I don't care what you have to do, but I want a room by tomorrow."
House of Trouser. Frazer, Poo Poo Stinker, Zeke. Frazer is slicing a loaf of bread and Pepper is being surprisingly attentive to his pontificating about Derby Day. Oh, that's right, Frazer (and that's not his real name) is a professional gambler of all things. Zeke is cleaning the floor near the refrigerator. Frazer says something about there being "Too much interest in the wrong sort of fillies." I don't know whether he's talking about the horses, or whether he's being derogatory about women. It emerges that it is the latter. He doesn't like their posh hats or something. Pepper suggests they go for a picnic instead. "Whoa!" says our misogynistic man-boy. "That sounds like a leftover from last night!" What an utterly repulsive turn of phrase. This exchange angers Zeke, who looks wrathful.
"Well, that would be your paranoia," says Pepper breezily. "You know, things are going to start getting really tedious [you mean things aren't really tedious already?] if you read into everything I say and don't say ... [she does a remarkably accurate impression of Frazer's prehistoric male posturing] ... Er ... Pepper's so ... Er ... Leftovers from last night. God! Don't flatter yourself." I think they must both have forgotten that Zeke's in the room. "I'm not!" says Frazer limply. "You are!" rejoins Pepper. "I could care less about this picnic." That's patently untrue - it was her suggestion. And I hate it when people say "could care less" when they mean "couldn't care less." "Who packs this picnic?" says Frazer slyly, as if the sheer effort of putting together a picnic had been his objection all along. "I will," says Pepper. I don't know why she's trying so hard. I've only just met Frazer and already I despise him. Pepper's known him longer, and is in closer proximity to him, so you'd think she'd be able to recognise his manifold weaselly, hateful qualities. Frazer leaves.
Pepper opens the fridge door and hits Zeke on the head. Ha ha! Do it again! "I forgot you were down there," she says apologetically. There's nothing for a picnic in the fridge. "Why do you have to do everything?" asks the indignant Zeke, then immediately agrees to go for supplies. She doesn't. She can make you do it, you mooning young pup. It must be really handy to keep a smitten student around the place to do your chores. Zeke persists in pointing out the inequities in Pepper and Frazer's relationship: "Why are you going to all this trouble when Frazer obviously couldn't care about the picnic?" "He's just playing it cool," says Pepper. "Zeke, when you grow up, you'll understand these things." "I do understand," says Zeke plaintively. "And he should be nicer to you." "Aw! You're such a cutie!" coos Pepper. "He just has trouble with commitment, that's all." "But you're already engaged," points out Zeke. Pepper had forgotten that. They're not really engaged you see. It's all a ruse, whose purpose is beyond me. "Exactly," says Pepper hurriedly. "He wouldn't have proposed to me, if he didn't love me. He just has trouble showing it, that's all." *COUGH* Fantasist *COUGH*. Hm. I was trying to write down that thing people do when they're jokily trying to insinuate something and they smuggle out a word or phrase hidden inside a cough. I don't know if I succeeded or not. They get down to business. Pepper gives Zeke some cash and then makes a shopping list. Here it is, in full, as she spoke it aloud. Bear in mind, there was nothing inside the fridge for a picnic.
Neighbours 31/01/2007
The Previouslys show Ned and Katya Kinski the Kleptomaniac and the BMW and Mishka and Lou. Doesn't look like the abduction storyline will advance any. And I'd forgotten all about Mishka.
The title of the episode is "Can You Sleep a Secret?" Hmm ... There's a novel by Sophie Kinsella called Can You Keep a Secret and a movie version is in production. However, it's probable that the title is merely alluding to the commonplace question, which always presages a juicy tidbit of Class A gossip. I can't for the life of me imagine what the title is referring to. I guess I'll have to wait and see.
Scarlet Bar. Steph and Lyn. Enter Toadie. "Here's Iron Man himself," snickers Lyn. I suppose she's referring to the fact that Toadie's no body-builder. That's very unfair - Toadie's been trying really hard to get in shape. So shut up, Big Nose (Loris implied that Lyn was possessed of prodigious olfactory equipment yesterday, and it seemed to get to her, so I'm going to continue to chip away at her confidence). It transpires that Lyn is actually guffawing at a dream that Steph had, which involved her kissing Toadie. What, is she twelve? Dreams seldom mean very much. I had a dream the other night where I was stabbing Lyn Scully repeatedly in the back with a kitchen knife, but the blade was too flimsy, so try as I might, I couldn't penetrate her scapula. And that didn't mean anything. Actually, seeing it written down, it does look like the sort of dream that Freud would get excited about, but let's not waste time with pyschoanalysis. "Imagine us two [her and Toadie] together!" laughs Steph. Toadie doesn't find the thought amusing.
General Store. Ned and Katya. Nothing of any interest whatsoever is said. Ned leaves. Enter Mishka, crosses to Lou. She hates to be leaving her Lou Bear, with the baby gone and so much worry all around. Lou insists that he will be fine. Mishka is having none of it: "You put on brave face, but you not fool Mishka. I stay and be pushing you up!" Ah! Mishka's manner of speaking is so quaint and hilarious!
Lou Bear ("Lou Bear - Stare!") replies: "Well, you know me, I never worry unless there's something to worry about and there's no bad news and I'm taking that as good news." Um. There's a fine line between optimism and out-and-out delusion, Lou. What he is worried about is Mishka losing her job. "OK Lou Bear," says Mishka, "I just ring airline and find out what time we take off. Maybe I have few more minutes." Consistent with an earlier episode, she's still not rostered apparently. She speaks in Russian. Actually, for all I know, it might be gobbledygook, but it sounds Russian to my untrained ear. "For us," says Mishka, "is much good news!" Mechanical problems have grounded the plane. Convenient. Too convenient? I waggle my eyebrows suggestively at Mishka. "Well, praise be for Russian maintenance!" says Lou, casually applying a racial stereotype to the Russian people. "Because, if truth be known, I need all the pushing up I can get!" "Wica, wica, wica, Waah!" says the backing music of old people about to have sex.General Store. Ned and Toadie. Toadie is wittering on about responsibility, and Ned's just eating a burger and not listening. Toadie upbraids him for it. I'm on Ned's side. I wasn't listening to Toadie either. He wants Ned's help to get back into his own house. Ned is surprised - he thought that Toadie was happy with Steph and that she was "stoked to have him there". He's mistaken. Charlie screams all night, so Toadie can't get his full twelve hours. Twelve hours??? The lazy arse. Eight hours is more than sufficient. And I thought he was a highflying lawyer. Where on earth does he find the time? "I'll take your Charlie and raise you a Pepper," says Ned. "She talks in her sleep, when she's not screaming." And she sleepwalks. The other night she patted Ned on the head and said something about a dolphin. I'd imagine she said "Lyn Scully has such a big nose. She reminds me of a dolphin."
"Well, then," says Toadie triumphantly, "if [Pepper's] such a pain then kick her out." "But she's such a grass chick," protests Ned. "I'm a grass bloke who wants a room in his own house," replies Toadie. He's got you there, Ned. "Just do it! I don't care what you have to do, but I want a room by tomorrow."
House of Trouser. Frazer, Poo Poo Stinker, Zeke. Frazer is slicing a loaf of bread and Pepper is being surprisingly attentive to his pontificating about Derby Day. Oh, that's right, Frazer (and that's not his real name) is a professional gambler of all things. Zeke is cleaning the floor near the refrigerator. Frazer says something about there being "Too much interest in the wrong sort of fillies." I don't know whether he's talking about the horses, or whether he's being derogatory about women. It emerges that it is the latter. He doesn't like their posh hats or something. Pepper suggests they go for a picnic instead. "Whoa!" says our misogynistic man-boy. "That sounds like a leftover from last night!" What an utterly repulsive turn of phrase. This exchange angers Zeke, who looks wrathful.
"Well, that would be your paranoia," says Pepper breezily. "You know, things are going to start getting really tedious [you mean things aren't really tedious already?] if you read into everything I say and don't say ... [she does a remarkably accurate impression of Frazer's prehistoric male posturing] ... Er ... Pepper's so ... Er ... Leftovers from last night. God! Don't flatter yourself." I think they must both have forgotten that Zeke's in the room. "I'm not!" says Frazer limply. "You are!" rejoins Pepper. "I could care less about this picnic." That's patently untrue - it was her suggestion. And I hate it when people say "could care less" when they mean "couldn't care less." "Who packs this picnic?" says Frazer slyly, as if the sheer effort of putting together a picnic had been his objection all along. "I will," says Pepper. I don't know why she's trying so hard. I've only just met Frazer and already I despise him. Pepper's known him longer, and is in closer proximity to him, so you'd think she'd be able to recognise his manifold weaselly, hateful qualities. Frazer leaves.
Pepper opens the fridge door and hits Zeke on the head. Ha ha! Do it again! "I forgot you were down there," she says apologetically. There's nothing for a picnic in the fridge. "Why do you have to do everything?" asks the indignant Zeke, then immediately agrees to go for supplies. She doesn't. She can make you do it, you mooning young pup. It must be really handy to keep a smitten student around the place to do your chores. Zeke persists in pointing out the inequities in Pepper and Frazer's relationship: "Why are you going to all this trouble when Frazer obviously couldn't care about the picnic?" "He's just playing it cool," says Pepper. "Zeke, when you grow up, you'll understand these things." "I do understand," says Zeke plaintively. "And he should be nicer to you." "Aw! You're such a cutie!" coos Pepper. "He just has trouble with commitment, that's all." "But you're already engaged," points out Zeke. Pepper had forgotten that. They're not really engaged you see. It's all a ruse, whose purpose is beyond me. "Exactly," says Pepper hurriedly. "He wouldn't have proposed to me, if he didn't love me. He just has trouble showing it, that's all." *COUGH* Fantasist *COUGH*. Hm. I was trying to write down that thing people do when they're jokily trying to insinuate something and they smuggle out a word or phrase hidden inside a cough. I don't know if I succeeded or not. They get down to business. Pepper gives Zeke some cash and then makes a shopping list. Here it is, in full, as she spoke it aloud. Bear in mind, there was nothing inside the fridge for a picnic.
* Olives
* Those fishy things.
* Those green things with red bits in the middle that are spicy.
* Hair products - both straight and wavy.
That's it. It's going to be a great picnic! I wish I could be there to share in the splendour of the feast.
Exterior. Katya and her fence. The fence is pleased with the BMW. She should be able to shift it quickly.
Back to Poo Poo and Zeke. I really hope that this isn't going to be a repeat of the Libby/Taj relationship. Looks like it might turn out that way, because Pepper's trying on outfits and asking for Zeke's approval. "Imagine you were Frazer," she instructs him. "Ooh! Ooh! Ah! Ah!" says Zeke, and he dances around like the ape-man from 2001. Weirdo. Pepper seems amused by his antics, but brings him back to the task in hand. Oh! Frazer won't mind, sighs Zeke. "Will he notice that that dress brings out the blue in your eyes, and that one makes you look more beautiful than ever?" That twee little outburst ought to have triggered Pepper's gag reflex, but instead it prompts another bout of saccharine cooing: "Aw!!! Zeke!!! ... [Beat] ... So. This one." Oh, okay - heh. I must admit that made me laugh a little. But, seriously, Pepper, you should be running like hell from this freaky little kid with his crush and trying to establish some semblance of a boundary between teacher and student. "You really love him, don't you?" says Zeke. "Since the day we met." Zeke offers to help her get all the picnic stuff to the park and he gets a kiss on the forehead for his trouble. He is "officially [Pepper's] favourite student." Zeke just stands there looking dumb.
General Store. Lou and Mishka are working. Lou says: "Poor young Sky didn't even get to hold the baby. If she had, she would have been distraught [you think???] but at least she would have had that." What a stupid, vapid thing to say. Mishka chimes in with an even more stupid and vapid comment: "Yes. A binding moment to fill her heart." They're a pair of halfwits. Guy is at the counter. He notices Lou is a little distracted by giving utterance to vacuous nonsense and tries to pull a fast one. Is there no limit to his criminality? He tells Lou he gave him a fifty dollar bill, but in reality it was only a twenty. Mishka is onto him. Lou credulously gives him more change, but - fear not! - the till will still balance at the end of the day, because Mishka picked his pocket on the way out and put the money back in the till.
Office. Steph and Toadie. The Office is tidy now. "There was a floor under all that paperwork!" jokes Toadie. Aw shucks. I was looking forward to seeing more of the 'Steph does the accounts' storyline. Toadie tells Steph he is moving back to Number Thirty. "A room came up, and it is my house." Steph is upset, but agrees with Toadie's assessment that they ought to start getting things back to normal. "You're young, you're single," she says. "You don't need a Mum and her baby and the ghost of a missing husband to be a bit of a drag." Toadie demurs. "I don't want to get to comfortable."
Park. Pepper and Zeke. They are laying rose petals on a picnic rug. "Do you think it's a bit much?" "Not if you're comparing it to the mushiest chick flick ever!" jokes Zeke. Which film does he mean? An Affair to Remember is pretty mushy ("I was looking up!"), but I don't recall there being a picnic scene in it. I'll have to bow to Zeke's superior knowledge of mushy chick flicks I think. Now, should Pepper pour the champagne glasses now, or later? Later! For heaven's sake. If you pour them now the champagne will go flat. Zeke agrees with me, though he's more worried about the champagne being spilt. That's a valid point too. Pepper just wants everything to be perfect. "You are!" says Zeke. WHOOPS! "I mean ... 'It is'." Now, I've been an adolescent in love, and stood tongue-tied before the object of my affection and not once have I made such an 'hilarious' gaffe. Maybe it's because I have vice-like self control, but I don't think so. That's not an attribute that's borne out by the rest of my day-to-day life. I think Zeke's freudian slip is a mere contrivance of plot, and has no verisimilitude about it whatsoever. Furthermore, why can't Pepper see what's so manifestly obvious? The boy stole her knickers. What more evidence does she need? I think she must be flattered by his clumsy attentions.
"Frazer's a really, really lucky guy," says Zeke. "He is, isn't he?" Pepper replies. Modest of her. "How come the big ive (?) never says such nice things like you?" I think Zeke's emotional precocity is being established as a counterpoint to Frazer's remedial worries about commitment and cooties. Zeke looks chuffed. Pepper then shoos him away because Frazer has arrived. Great. He's brought Ned along - a character guaranteed to make any scene around thirty percent more boring. Ned has brought some beers, at least, so he's made a contribution to the picnic. Ned says "Are you sure I'm not going to be in the way?" Do you really need to ask the question Ned? The picnic rug is strewn with rose petals. Zeke is hiding in the bushes. Pepper wants a word with Frazer. In private. You'd think that Ned would take the hint, but he just sits there admiring the scenary. "This was meant to be just the two of us!" says Pepper. "Here we go!" says Frazer exasperatedly, "I knew things would change after last night." Pepper balks at this. She insists that they need to keep up the pretence that they are really engaged. "I'm starting to think that this whole engagement thing is a bad idea." You're a genius, Frazer. Pepper is getting desperate and Ned just wants to open the beers. Zeke looks downcast. "You know - we wouldn't be where we are without [the engagement caper]." She's backpeddling so quickly that she's in danger of falling off her figurative bicycle. "We're still friends aren't we?" she asks tremulously. Wow. That was really undignified. Zeke glowers and snaps a twig. He falls laughably short of 'menacing'.
Scarlet Bar. Ned and Lyn. I guess the picnic's over. "Hang on," says Lyn a big, stupid grin beneath her big, stupid nose. "Didn't Frazer know it was a romantic picnic?" "He brought me and a six-pack of beers," says Ned by way of response. Lyn chortles heartily. "There's (sic) lots of pluses with the Aussie male, sense of romance is not one of them." Ned's forehead crumples, the implications of what Lyn's just said slow-dawn on him. "Hey!" he protests. "I'm an Aussie male!" Lyn backtracks. "Oh ... yeah, but you're not typical, you know, you're ... nice." By 'nice' she means 'gay'. As far as Lyn is concerned, Aussie maleness is defined by enthusiasm for all kinds of sports (read "bad sportsmanship"), Crocodile Dundee-style outdoorsiness, casual sexism and ruthless tribalism.
Remember the rivalry between Joe Scully and 'Professor' Karl? That was about who had the more 'authentic' Australian male Y chromosome. Joe was blokesy and relentlessly unintellectual, therefore redblooded and male, and Karl was more sensitive and prized his education highly, thereby marking himself out as unAustralian and effete. Just before Joe Scully did whatever it was he did to disgrace himself (ironically enough, all his lines were then given to Gino, an unthreatening homosexual, and thus the spiritual antithesis of the Aussie Male) he and Karl were both attending a cookery class, the joke being that this situation of womanly domesticity is entirely unbefitting of traditional masculine, heterosexual Australian tropes. Ned does not fit in with Lyn's narrow view of gender-defined roles, liking, as he does, Gilbert and Sullivan and being able to sing and, thus, in her eyes he is emasculated; removed from her cherished, fond vision of what it means to be a man in Australia.
He himself had a great deal of trouble reconciling his ambition to sing and be on the stage both with his own idea of masculinity and with the straitening preconceptions of his friends and neighbours. His unmale aspiration was anathema to the House of Trouser, whose unrelentingly male prerogatives centred around the eschewal of homoerotic feeling by recourse to violence and proxies - to Aussie rules football and to drinking beer. They even went so far as to start wrestling with one another, their unAussie, unmale desires were subverted and transformed, made legitimate. They were able to sweat and grunt and hug wearing tight leotards without tainting their images in the eyes of people like Lyn, who uphold the grand tradition of Aussie Maleness. Ned doesn't know how to deal with Lyn's gelding of him. "Gee, thanks," he says, recognising a double-edged compliment when he hears one.
He changes the subject and wonders who he can evict from the House of Trouser. Frazer and Pepper may well split up, he muses, but he doesn't envisage their both leaving, so the room would still be in use. Rosie's "got a lot on her plate, what with Carmella and everything". Will, therefore, is the obvious choice. "How long will a backpacker stick around anyway?" Good point Ned, but my vote is for Frazer. Largely because I loathe him. Pepper could go and live in the Kinski household. This would provoke all kinds of dramatic and amusing scenarios. She would keep calling Susan "Mrs Kennedy" and this would make Karl uncomfortable and Zeke could keep walking in on her in the shower accidentally/on-purpose. Everyone would be happy. Lyn is horrified to learn that someone must leave the House of Trouser. I don't know why. Surely, she doesn't like these newbie oxygen-thieves any more than I do. "Why is Toadie so keen to move out on Steph anyway?" she asks. None of your business, Cyrano. "Charlie keeps him awake," says Ned. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Charlie's just going through a rough patch," she says. Shut up you disgusting, gossipy old harridan. Finally, she twigs that Toadie is uncomfortable about his proximity to Steph. "Me and my big mouth," she says. And her big nose
General Store. Lou is working. Mishka's phone rings. It plays the 1812 Overture. Because, you know, she's Russian. It says 'AIRLINE' on the screen. Lou answers it. "Are you calling to say the plane's ready to go?" Apparently not. "Infectious?" says Lou. "Endangering the lives of passengers?" I think Mishka's been telling porkies. Lou hangs up. Enter Mishka. "This meat pie is so strange," she says. "I give the plates. I give the cutlery and still they eat with hands." That does sound strange. "I thought we'd agreed not to keep secrets from each other," says Lou sternly. "Da." "Why didn't you tell me how sick you are?" Ah. Mishka comes clean. She told little lie to airline so she could be with her Lou Bear. She not want to leave until Sky and baby are reunited. Where is Sky? I wonder. How's she doing? Is she still in the hospital? Lou's concerns are more prosaic. "Mishka, you could have lost your job." "But I not," Mishka replies, "and I know we say we not lie to each other, but I love you too much to keep a promise." What a peculiar twist of logic. It's magic. "I love you too much to do the dishes!" "I love you too much to have an open and honest dialogue within our relationship." Lou's a real pushover. "That is the sweetest thing that anyone's ever said to me ... I think," he says. "You know," ponders Mishka, "I not know why you Australians want to be healthy, there are so many reasons to be sick!" Lou cackles. Yes, ha, ha, ha. So many people are sick and dying, but Mishka's just lying about seriously ill! My sides are splitting.
Hospital. Lyn, Oscar and Toadie. Oscar's drawing a picture. I don't suppose that will keep him occupied for very long, he'll be running amok all over the set in a few minutes, mark my words. "It was just a dream, Toadie," says Lyn. "You should be flattered if anything." Toadie demurs. Oscar is thinking about eating his pencil. "What? You think you're MARRIED best friend has fallen for you?" Lyn asks, as if it's the most ridiculous idea she's ever heard. You obviously don't pay attention to the lives of those around you, Lyn or, indeed to your own life. Remember that time that Karl left Susan for Izzy. They were married. Or that time that you got divorced. Marriage is not some undefeatable, monolithic concept. Marriages fail, people fall in love. "Of course not," sniffs Toadie peremptorily. Quite right too. This really has nothing whatever to do with Lyn nor her elephantine snout. Oscar's decided not to eat his pencil.
Toadie "just thought it was time we got things back to normal. That's all." Reasonable enough. At this point someone whispers "Pig!" I think it might have been Oscar. Maybe that's what he's drawn. Lyn doesn't relent. Read between the lines, Lyn, you moron! Toadie's in love with Steph. Take up your ugly baby and walk far away. Lyn plays the 'emotionally vulnerable' card. She really is despicable. She reminds me of Louise Fletcher's Nurse Ratched from Milos Forman's film of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. She has an unnerving, quiet, pious self-assurance. She's such a truly horrifying monster because she really believes that she is acting for the good, when in fact she is a terrific force for evil. "I just love knowing you're there, you know, for Charlie and Steph. It gives me such peace of mind," Lyn says and my skin crawls just like when Nurse Ratched said of McMurphy "I believe we can help him, I really do."
I'm trying to devise a Neighbours drinking game. So far I've got one rule: Every time Lyn punctuates one of her sentences with that intensely irritating, insecure, screeching 'you know' of hers, like some sort of demented banshee you take a drink. It's a good one. I introduced it this episode and, already, I'm feeling a little lightheaded. "Well, I can't stay there just because that's what you want," says Toadie. "Yeah, well, what about what Steph wants? Come on! She's had a really hard trot!" She's indefatigable! Machiavelli had nothing on Lyn Scully. "And now she's moving on," says Toadie, but his resolve is weakening in the face of this emotion-enervating harpy. "She's taking on Max's responsibility. She's laughing again." "Which is largely to do with you," cuts in Lyn, with a note of triumph. She can scent Toadie's heartblood. "What if Steph can only move on because she feels safe, you know, because you're there to catch her if she falls." "Sky can see us now," says Toadie apropos of nothing. At least, I think that was unprompted, but, then again, I am pretty drunk. "Why don't we just drop it, OK?" says Toadie huffily. "Come on sweetie," says Lyn to her hellspawn, "we can see Sky. Let's go."
Scarlet Bar. Katya and Guy. Blah, blah, blah, "I'll go to the police!" "No you won't!", blah, blah, blah. This storyline is unutterably stupid. Blah, blah, blah. Something about a DVD. Blah, blah, blah. Why are they transacting their illegal business in the Scarlet Bar for goodness sake? Wouldn't Katya move it away from her home turf? The Scarlet Bar is frequented by - quite literally - all of her friends. Enter Ned. There you go. That's exactly why they shouldn't bring their nefarious doings to the Scarlet Bar. Guy says he knows Katya through nursing college. He offers to tell Ned some stories about her. Surprisingly, Ned doesn't run screaming from the bar, but instead looks keen to hear the stories and sits down. Katya is dismayed.
Park. Zeke is swinging a cricket bat. Alone. At night. Looks like he's working on his forward defensive. Don't do that, Zeke! If everyone in Australia stopped practising their cricket, then maybe, just maybe, we'd have a chance of winning back the Ashes next time. Enter Pepper. She tells Zeke she's fallen in love with him. Oh, right. This is a dream. Since its only conceivable purpose is to tell us that Zeke has a crush on Pepper (which I already know), I won't bother to recap the dream any further.
Hang on. There was nothing to signal that that was a dream sequence. Zeke didn't wake up looking hot and bothered or anything. I think that really happened. O...kay. Maybe she was sleepwalking. Her tendency to somnambulate was mentioned earlier in the episode, and the title is "Can You Sleep a Secret?" so that's probably what just happened. Zeke looks incredulous.
Scarlet Bar. Guy is regaling Ned with stories about Katya. She "was very popular at college and never said no to a challenge." Riveting stuff. Ned looks fascinated at any rate. Katya is uncomfortable. "Old friends don't give away secrets," Guy says. I wish he'd just die. "Now, I am intrigued," says Ned. Don't encourage him, Ned. He offers to get another drink. Gus accepts. "I become a lot more talkative when I've had a few to drink," he promises. Oh God, no. Ned doesn't mind. He wants to hear more about Katya - she's his favourite topic. She's not mine. Guy thinks it's sweet. Ned goes to get the drinks. "Leave," says Katya. I really, really hope he listens to her. "The man just offered me a beer. I can't." Damn! He wants another $10,000. Katya has one week to get it. "If I do another one so close to my last job, I'll get caught." If she talks about this stuff in the frickin' SCARLET BAR she'll get caught as well. But that doesn't seem to bother her. As if to emphasise my point, Toadie enters. "Hey," he says and walks out of shot. "Let's make it $20,000 because you argued." He's getting greedy. Could prove to be his undoing. At last, Guy leaves giving her some silver foil to remind her of the good old days. She tucks it into her bra. Remember when Jack Scully got addicted to 'clubbing'? Looks like Katya may once have been addicted to 'silver foil'.
Office. Toadie, Steph and Charlie. The business is safe. Well done Toadie. Steph suggests they go out for a farewell/celebratory dinner. Toadie's not moving out, though. Because no one's leaving the House of Trouser. He has nowhere to live. Steph ribs him good-naturedly for a bit. She says she's offered his room to a "pregnant, homeless orphan." That's a little insensitive, because they did have a pregnant, homeless orphan living with them for a while. Her name was Kayla as I recall. Steph seems to have forgotten this episode of her life, however. I hope Toadie and Steph end up getting together. I never did like Max, anyway. I don't like Toadie either, but it would be a nice change.
Kinski house. Katya and Ned. They're talking about Guy. Why did he leave like that yada, yada, yada. Katya says she's tired - she's not going clubbing. Good. That stuff's dangerously addictive. Instead she's going to have bath sex with Ned. Ned goes to get some scented candles. Katya retrieves the foil. And does something or other with it. Possibly, she washes it down the sink.
Credits. I hope we're back with the infinitely more engaging Kerry storyline in Thursday's episode.
Thursday, 1 February 2007
Everybody Needs Good Neighbours
Here's more from Rosie:
"No irony, my love for neighbours is genuine, I have been watching for literally as long as I can remember...so that's about 16 of my nearly 20 years!As for the society. It was set up through the genuine appreciation of the show shown by the students as far as I know...the Facebook discussions are lengthy and insightful. However, I'm sure we can all appreciate the tongue-in-cheek-ness Neighbours and her fans have a mutual understanding of!"
I didn't mean to criticise, or condescend to, students. I was being ironic when I said "this isn't irony." I think it's more or less impossible to watch Neighbours unironically - to do so, you'd have to completely disengage your critical faculties. Having said that, Rosie's probably being ironic here. These days, no one really knows if anyone's being sincere or not. I blame the nineties. All those knowing allusions and arched eyebrows. The eighties' Thatcherite ideal of "Greed is good" persisted, but was studiously ironised. Everyone was aware of it, but it didn't really matter, because nothing did. Meanwhile, Oasis were busy referencing the Beatles with a Britpop sheen, Damien Hirst was cocking a snook to the art world and Quentin Tarantino, Kevin Smith and the Coen Brothers were being so terribly, terribly droll and derivative in film. Net result: A generation (myself included) that only knows how to express itself by recourse to irony and popular culture.
Actually, having said that it is virtually impossible to watch Neighbours and be completely po-faced, this guy seems to have made a pretty good fist of it. He must have hated the anniversary special when Harold stood up and said "That's when good neighbours become good friends."
I'm in a bit of a bad mood today and I need something to rail against. What's this I've got recorded? It's Tuesday's Neighbours. Perfect.
Today's gimmick - Does anyone remember Life Mechanics? It was that 'dangerous' cult Stuart got involved with, which basically consisted of speaking using metaphors about cars and journeying and engines. I shall pay homage to the subtle art of Life Mechanics with this instalment.
Neighbours 29/01/2007
The previouslys show us that we're going to get more of Rosetta and Will; Steph and Toadie; and Carmella's maiming. Good-oh. I've revised my theory as to who it is who now has the baby. I think it might be Max Hoyland. He already approached Stingray once, so might have found him with Kerry. Also, he's probably missing his own baby and is less than mentally hinged. I think I might have cracked it.
The title of the episode is 'Whatever Happened to Baby Kerry?' That's a reference to Robert Aldrich's 1962 film Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Good title. Better than Monday's at any rate.
Will, you're a doddering old woman on a zebra crossing on Carmella's highway.
Hospital. Will is in Carmella's room. She's trying to get up again and he's restraining her. "You need a rest," he tells her firmly. He offers to help. "If you wanna help me, you'll leave!" says Carmella groggily. Will sadly acquiesces. Cut to:
The corridor outside. Will stands outside what I assume is the door leading into Carmella's room. Enter Rosetta. "How're you doing?" asks Will. "How'd you think?" replies Rosetta sniffily. Steady on, Rosetta, it was a fair question. "I thought you'd be pretty stressed. I thought maybe I could shout you dinner ..." Rosetta interrupts him: "I just want to see my sister. Alone." She didn't let him finish. He was going to say he wanted to shout "Ye dinna knae where the stowp be hid, and the gowans fine, but we've wandered many a weary fit, sin auld lang syne! Ach aye!" Since he wasn't allowed to paraphrase Rabbie Burns at the top of his lungs, Will peevishly says: "I think it's best [Carmella] spends some time on her own. She's pretty fragile right now." Just because she wanted you to leave Will, doesn't mean she's fragile, Will. If you were in a room with me, I'd ask you to leave as well. Rosetta is sceptical and barges on in regardless.
Carmella took the wrong exit at the Selling-Someone-Else's-Baby Roundabout.
"Are you responsible for selling [Teresa's] baby?" Silence. "Tell me it's not true!" Carmella looks pensive.
Frazer shouldn't be allowed to ride shotgun in Pepper's life-car.
House of Trouser. Steph's handing Poo Poo Stinker some invoices to give her Mum. She's carrying little Charlie around again. I think she must pick him up from the props table before she comes on set. Poo Poo suggests that Steph gives the invoices to the ex-Mrs Steiger herself, although that would mean not being able to perform a secret house inspection, for which there should have been written notice. You don't need written notice for a secret house inspection, Pepper. So long as it remains a secret, then you're fine. Steph looks flummoxed. It's obviously a fair cop - she's acting at Toadie's behest. She leaves.
Enter Zeke. He's carrying a shopping bag and some flowers. "Ezekiel, you're back!" says Poo Poo, pleased. I think that she's allowing Zeke to get too close to her. She's in danger of violating the wonted propriety of the student-teacher relationship. Remember what happened between Libby and Taj? Apparently, the shopping bag contains candles and the flowers were Zeke's own idea. The flowers cause paroxysms of ecstasy in Poo Poo, who treats Zeke as if he's a genius for having bought them. Enter Frazer. Poo Poo animatedly tells him that she is planning a Thai dinner for the two of them. Frazer loves Thai. However, he rounds on Poo Poo for her insensitivity: "Friends of yours are going through a truckload of grief! You might want to think about that, instead of your stomach!" Whoa. That was an overreaction. Carmella seems fit enough, they don't know Sky that well (if at all - she's been in the hospital since they were bussed into the series, evicting Toadie, to transform the House of Trouser into the House of Hotties) and Rosetta seems to be dealing with the situation pretty well. And even if the truckload of grief touched Pepper more nearly, her not eating wouldn't help anything. And she's not just thinking about her own stomach, but also about Frazer's. And about his penis. What's his mental trauma? "I'm sorry ..." says the chastened Poo Poo. At which point Zeke gives Frazer (and us) his twopenny worth: "She's just done something really nice for you. Why don't you give her a break!" Even though he's right, it's really none of his business and he should butt out. He stomps off.
Convents are the multistorey carparks of life.
Hospital. Corleone sisters. Rosetta is giving Carmella what for. Immorality in Neighbours is punished by tongue-lashing after tongue-lashing by any character who can be legitimately roped in to do it. "Here I was thinking you'd grown up, that finally you'd stop being so selfish." But she's been proved wrong. "Yeah ..." says Carmella, "I made a mistake - I'm trying to make up for it." "How?" sneers Rosetta. "By running away to a convent? You thought a few hail Marys would absolve you?" Her and the Catholic faith, Rosetta. She's not the only one who believes in true repentance and the infinite compassion and the tremendous capacity for forgiveness of God. She thought she was acting in Teresa's best interests and in the interests of the child. It was a difficult situation and a tough call. Unselling the baby was nigh-on impossible. And she could hardly have brought the baby back to life. Get off your high horse. "You're pathetic!" Rosetta tells Carmella, helpfully. On her way out, to put the icing on the cake, she tells Will to stay away from her sister as she's "nothing but trouble."
Loris just cut Lyn up in her life-car and then flipped her the bird.
Scarlet Bar. Elle and Loris. Elle leaves to get drinks. Enter Lyn. She's really glad that the Timminses have moved in to her old house. She likes the idea of them all being under one roof. Not all, says Loris. Boney's still in prison. My heart sinks every time mention is made of more Timminses. I think there are already too many of them to be easily sustained by the series and I don't think that the writers will be able to resist introducing more. Lyn has retrieved her sprinkler off the Timmins' front lawn. "That's pilfering," says Loris curtly. Lyn says that it's certainly not covered by Section 32. Lyn doesn't know what she's talking about, Section 32 of the Australian Sale of Land Act plainly doesn't have anything to do with who owns the sprinkler. Loris is on firmer legal ground: She holds that if it's on "my property, it's mine." They tussle for it and Loris wins out. The extras in the background exchange puzzled glances. Elle returns with two glasses of white wine. All the sheilas in Neighbours drink white wine and all the bruces drink beer. "Were you fighting?" asks Elle. "More of a debate really," says Loris. If it had stayed on the plane of debate, Loris would still have won, because Lyn didn't have a legal leg to stand on. Bafflingly, Lyn says "I'm just ... just ... powdering my nose." She isn't. She's just standing there. She leaves. While she's still in earshot, Loris says "Hope she's got an awful lot of powder." If Lyn had an unusually large proboscis, this would be a good insult. Since she doesn't, it's meaningless. And I thought "powder my nose" was a euphemism for going for a wee. "You shouldn't be so hard on people just because you've got problems," says Elle sternly. Loris doesn't take kindly to the advice: "Oh is that what I was doing?" she says sarcastically, "how incredibly insightful of you!" Elle has "no right to criticise, because [she hasn't] been exactly constructive [herself]." "Yes I have," says the petulant Elle, and then fails to back up the assertion. Loris upbraids Elle for not being able to make Dylan come home. "Get on that phone right now and talk some sense into him," she commands.
Dylan is driving his own drive.
Dylan is motionless, just staring at something just behind the camera when his phone rings. He answers it swiftly. I think it must have been clipped to his belt. "We've been over this," he says, "me coming back won't help any." Jump cut back to Scarlet Bar. Loris snatches the phone from Elle. "Bobby," she says, "it's Nan." Back to Dylan. He hangs up and tosses the phone away. And resumes his creepy, improbable motionless stare.
Toadie is sugaring Rosetta's success-engine.
Scarlet Bar. Katya's on the phone. "That is absolute crap, Guy!" she says. "I don't owe you anything. There's no way I'm stealing any more cars." Enter Ned Boringbelly with beer and white wine. The camera pans across to Lyn and Elle. "What time do you pick up Oscar from the party?" asks Elle. "It's a slumber party," says Lyn ridiculously. "For three year olds?" deadpans Elle. "I'd hate to be that parent." What a stupid exchange. Couldn't Lyn have just said "five o'clock" or something? A slumber party for three-year olds is ludicrous and Elle, the writers and I all know it. Enter Toadie. He wants to know where Steph is. She's in the office. Exit Toadie. Lyn looks across at Loris. "She had no way to treat me like she did!" she says in that tremulous way of hers, which is supposed to pass for anger. Or distress. Or pretty much any emotion. Get over it, Lyn.
Steph's chassis needs cleaning. Or, rather, she needs to sort out the accounts for the Scarlet Bar.
Ned and Katya's relationship is like a stolen luxury car.
"No irony, my love for neighbours is genuine, I have been watching for literally as long as I can remember...so that's about 16 of my nearly 20 years!As for the society. It was set up through the genuine appreciation of the show shown by the students as far as I know...the Facebook discussions are lengthy and insightful. However, I'm sure we can all appreciate the tongue-in-cheek-ness Neighbours and her fans have a mutual understanding of!"
I didn't mean to criticise, or condescend to, students. I was being ironic when I said "this isn't irony." I think it's more or less impossible to watch Neighbours unironically - to do so, you'd have to completely disengage your critical faculties. Having said that, Rosie's probably being ironic here. These days, no one really knows if anyone's being sincere or not. I blame the nineties. All those knowing allusions and arched eyebrows. The eighties' Thatcherite ideal of "Greed is good" persisted, but was studiously ironised. Everyone was aware of it, but it didn't really matter, because nothing did. Meanwhile, Oasis were busy referencing the Beatles with a Britpop sheen, Damien Hirst was cocking a snook to the art world and Quentin Tarantino, Kevin Smith and the Coen Brothers were being so terribly, terribly droll and derivative in film. Net result: A generation (myself included) that only knows how to express itself by recourse to irony and popular culture.
Actually, having said that it is virtually impossible to watch Neighbours and be completely po-faced, this guy seems to have made a pretty good fist of it. He must have hated the anniversary special when Harold stood up and said "That's when good neighbours become good friends."
I'm in a bit of a bad mood today and I need something to rail against. What's this I've got recorded? It's Tuesday's Neighbours. Perfect.
Today's gimmick - Does anyone remember Life Mechanics? It was that 'dangerous' cult Stuart got involved with, which basically consisted of speaking using metaphors about cars and journeying and engines. I shall pay homage to the subtle art of Life Mechanics with this instalment.
Neighbours 29/01/2007
The previouslys show us that we're going to get more of Rosetta and Will; Steph and Toadie; and Carmella's maiming. Good-oh. I've revised my theory as to who it is who now has the baby. I think it might be Max Hoyland. He already approached Stingray once, so might have found him with Kerry. Also, he's probably missing his own baby and is less than mentally hinged. I think I might have cracked it.
The title of the episode is 'Whatever Happened to Baby Kerry?' That's a reference to Robert Aldrich's 1962 film Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Good title. Better than Monday's at any rate.
Will, you're a doddering old woman on a zebra crossing on Carmella's highway.
Hospital. Will is in Carmella's room. She's trying to get up again and he's restraining her. "You need a rest," he tells her firmly. He offers to help. "If you wanna help me, you'll leave!" says Carmella groggily. Will sadly acquiesces. Cut to:
The corridor outside. Will stands outside what I assume is the door leading into Carmella's room. Enter Rosetta. "How're you doing?" asks Will. "How'd you think?" replies Rosetta sniffily. Steady on, Rosetta, it was a fair question. "I thought you'd be pretty stressed. I thought maybe I could shout you dinner ..." Rosetta interrupts him: "I just want to see my sister. Alone." She didn't let him finish. He was going to say he wanted to shout "Ye dinna knae where the stowp be hid, and the gowans fine, but we've wandered many a weary fit, sin auld lang syne! Ach aye!" Since he wasn't allowed to paraphrase Rabbie Burns at the top of his lungs, Will peevishly says: "I think it's best [Carmella] spends some time on her own. She's pretty fragile right now." Just because she wanted you to leave Will, doesn't mean she's fragile, Will. If you were in a room with me, I'd ask you to leave as well. Rosetta is sceptical and barges on in regardless.
Carmella took the wrong exit at the Selling-Someone-Else's-Baby Roundabout.
"Are you responsible for selling [Teresa's] baby?" Silence. "Tell me it's not true!" Carmella looks pensive.
Frazer shouldn't be allowed to ride shotgun in Pepper's life-car.
House of Trouser. Steph's handing Poo Poo Stinker some invoices to give her Mum. She's carrying little Charlie around again. I think she must pick him up from the props table before she comes on set. Poo Poo suggests that Steph gives the invoices to the ex-Mrs Steiger herself, although that would mean not being able to perform a secret house inspection, for which there should have been written notice. You don't need written notice for a secret house inspection, Pepper. So long as it remains a secret, then you're fine. Steph looks flummoxed. It's obviously a fair cop - she's acting at Toadie's behest. She leaves.
Enter Zeke. He's carrying a shopping bag and some flowers. "Ezekiel, you're back!" says Poo Poo, pleased. I think that she's allowing Zeke to get too close to her. She's in danger of violating the wonted propriety of the student-teacher relationship. Remember what happened between Libby and Taj? Apparently, the shopping bag contains candles and the flowers were Zeke's own idea. The flowers cause paroxysms of ecstasy in Poo Poo, who treats Zeke as if he's a genius for having bought them. Enter Frazer. Poo Poo animatedly tells him that she is planning a Thai dinner for the two of them. Frazer loves Thai. However, he rounds on Poo Poo for her insensitivity: "Friends of yours are going through a truckload of grief! You might want to think about that, instead of your stomach!" Whoa. That was an overreaction. Carmella seems fit enough, they don't know Sky that well (if at all - she's been in the hospital since they were bussed into the series, evicting Toadie, to transform the House of Trouser into the House of Hotties) and Rosetta seems to be dealing with the situation pretty well. And even if the truckload of grief touched Pepper more nearly, her not eating wouldn't help anything. And she's not just thinking about her own stomach, but also about Frazer's. And about his penis. What's his mental trauma? "I'm sorry ..." says the chastened Poo Poo. At which point Zeke gives Frazer (and us) his twopenny worth: "She's just done something really nice for you. Why don't you give her a break!" Even though he's right, it's really none of his business and he should butt out. He stomps off.
Convents are the multistorey carparks of life.
Hospital. Corleone sisters. Rosetta is giving Carmella what for. Immorality in Neighbours is punished by tongue-lashing after tongue-lashing by any character who can be legitimately roped in to do it. "Here I was thinking you'd grown up, that finally you'd stop being so selfish." But she's been proved wrong. "Yeah ..." says Carmella, "I made a mistake - I'm trying to make up for it." "How?" sneers Rosetta. "By running away to a convent? You thought a few hail Marys would absolve you?" Her and the Catholic faith, Rosetta. She's not the only one who believes in true repentance and the infinite compassion and the tremendous capacity for forgiveness of God. She thought she was acting in Teresa's best interests and in the interests of the child. It was a difficult situation and a tough call. Unselling the baby was nigh-on impossible. And she could hardly have brought the baby back to life. Get off your high horse. "You're pathetic!" Rosetta tells Carmella, helpfully. On her way out, to put the icing on the cake, she tells Will to stay away from her sister as she's "nothing but trouble."
Loris just cut Lyn up in her life-car and then flipped her the bird.
Scarlet Bar. Elle and Loris. Elle leaves to get drinks. Enter Lyn. She's really glad that the Timminses have moved in to her old house. She likes the idea of them all being under one roof. Not all, says Loris. Boney's still in prison. My heart sinks every time mention is made of more Timminses. I think there are already too many of them to be easily sustained by the series and I don't think that the writers will be able to resist introducing more. Lyn has retrieved her sprinkler off the Timmins' front lawn. "That's pilfering," says Loris curtly. Lyn says that it's certainly not covered by Section 32. Lyn doesn't know what she's talking about, Section 32 of the Australian Sale of Land Act plainly doesn't have anything to do with who owns the sprinkler. Loris is on firmer legal ground: She holds that if it's on "my property, it's mine." They tussle for it and Loris wins out. The extras in the background exchange puzzled glances. Elle returns with two glasses of white wine. All the sheilas in Neighbours drink white wine and all the bruces drink beer. "Were you fighting?" asks Elle. "More of a debate really," says Loris. If it had stayed on the plane of debate, Loris would still have won, because Lyn didn't have a legal leg to stand on. Bafflingly, Lyn says "I'm just ... just ... powdering my nose." She isn't. She's just standing there. She leaves. While she's still in earshot, Loris says "Hope she's got an awful lot of powder." If Lyn had an unusually large proboscis, this would be a good insult. Since she doesn't, it's meaningless. And I thought "powder my nose" was a euphemism for going for a wee. "You shouldn't be so hard on people just because you've got problems," says Elle sternly. Loris doesn't take kindly to the advice: "Oh is that what I was doing?" she says sarcastically, "how incredibly insightful of you!" Elle has "no right to criticise, because [she hasn't] been exactly constructive [herself]." "Yes I have," says the petulant Elle, and then fails to back up the assertion. Loris upbraids Elle for not being able to make Dylan come home. "Get on that phone right now and talk some sense into him," she commands.
Dylan is driving his own drive.
Dylan is motionless, just staring at something just behind the camera when his phone rings. He answers it swiftly. I think it must have been clipped to his belt. "We've been over this," he says, "me coming back won't help any." Jump cut back to Scarlet Bar. Loris snatches the phone from Elle. "Bobby," she says, "it's Nan." Back to Dylan. He hangs up and tosses the phone away. And resumes his creepy, improbable motionless stare.
Toadie is sugaring Rosetta's success-engine.
Hospital. Toadie and Zeke. What are they doing at the hospital? Toadie is clutching a twenty dollar bill. "Parting is such sweet sorrow," he says mournfully. He's alluding to Romeo and Juliet II, ii, 185. Juliet's not saying goodbye to a twenty dollar note though. I think Iago's repeated refrain of "put money in thy purse" from Act One, Scene Three of Othello would serve him better, if he's scratching around for an appropriate Shakespearean phrase. It would add an air of mercenary ruthlessness and conspiracy to the proceedings, instead of conjuring a hackneyed, weedy sense of wistfulness and loss. "A bribe always cheers me up!" he says, shaking himself out of his funk. Zeke tells Toadie that the House of Trouser is "pretty tidy." Toadie wants more info for his cash. He tells Zeke that Steph is "useless at espionage. She has no subtlety. No finesse." In the Previouslys, he told Steph that she would need his help "finessing" their design to make Summer go back to Music School - it must be his word of the moment. Maybe he has that "Expand Your Vocabulary" toilet paper. Apropos of nothing, Zeke bursts out with "It's Miss Steiger! She's wasting her time with Frazer ..." "Whoa, whoa, whoa," pleads Toadie. "A bit less Dr Phil and a bit more Martha Stewart!" Does he want Zeke to fail to declare the twenty dollars and then be indicted for tax fraud? "Why should you care [about the state of the house]?" asks Zeke. "You never looked after the place." He turned the house into a wrestling arena once and knocked holes in the walls. Toadie didn't care back then because he "was living there." Well, duh. Rosetta walks past. Toadie tells her that she's just walked past Carmella's room, where he and Zeke have just been. Rosetta isn't there to see Carmella. She's going to visit her cousin. Teresa's still in the hospital? Why? There's nothing physically wrong with her and she's already escaped from the psych ward once. Shouldn't she be under lock and key in the police station? Toadie dismisses Zeke. He wants to have a word with Teresa. "You should have consulted me before taking on Teresa's case." Here we go. Already, the two lawyers are fighting over territory. There's only room for one permanent character from each profession in Neighbours - one doctor, one teacher, one policeman, one mechanic, one entrepreneur. This is one way they establish tension between the characters. There'll be trouble between Janae and Steph as to who will be the sole female mechanic, between Boyd and Karl as to who will be the doctor and between Paul Robinson and Loris as to who will be the magnate.
Rosetta wonders why she should have consulted with Toadie. "Because you're too close to the others involved in the case. Teresa is entitled to impartial and professional representation." Fair point. It's never stopped him from representing his friends and neighbours in the past though. "You think it's beyond me!" says Rosetta. Well, obviously. He just said that pretty much exactly. "Rosie," says Toadie slowly, "you're an article clerk. I'm not saying that's not important, but this is a really tough case." What would Carmella think if Rosetta represented the woman who threw boiling water in her face? Rosetta doesn't care what her sister thinks. She's defending Teresa and can handle it herself. She can't do any worse than Toadie, whom must rank among the world's worst lawyers.
Carmella is worried that the upholstery of her life-mobile is not comfortable enough for Will.
Hospital. Will and Carmella. Will proffers Carmella a drink and instructs her to keep her fluids up. "Your wasting your time," rasps Carmella. Will is having none of it. He considers himself a pretty good judge of character and insists that he won't buy into her "I'm not good enough for you," shtick. She can play the "undeserving card" as much as she likes. She tells him that the situation is complicated. I'm going to add "bad judge of character" to my itinerary of Will's character.
Katya's been committing grand theft auto both figuratively and ... er ... literally.Scarlet Bar. Katya's on the phone. "That is absolute crap, Guy!" she says. "I don't owe you anything. There's no way I'm stealing any more cars." Enter Ned Boringbelly with beer and white wine. The camera pans across to Lyn and Elle. "What time do you pick up Oscar from the party?" asks Elle. "It's a slumber party," says Lyn ridiculously. "For three year olds?" deadpans Elle. "I'd hate to be that parent." What a stupid exchange. Couldn't Lyn have just said "five o'clock" or something? A slumber party for three-year olds is ludicrous and Elle, the writers and I all know it. Enter Toadie. He wants to know where Steph is. She's in the office. Exit Toadie. Lyn looks across at Loris. "She had no way to treat me like she did!" she says in that tremulous way of hers, which is supposed to pass for anger. Or distress. Or pretty much any emotion. Get over it, Lyn.
Steph's chassis needs cleaning. Or, rather, she needs to sort out the accounts for the Scarlet Bar.
Office. Toadie and Steph. "Scaddling man paperest," says Toadie as he enters. I replayed that line several times and still couldn't make head nor tail of it. Toadie's sorry. Apparently that gag (if it was a gag) wasn't one of his finest. Steph is wading through the accounts, which Max seems to have left in disarray. Toadie offers to help him out. He keeps saying "subtlety and finesse". Just repeatedly saying the words, doesn't automatically mean that you magically possess those qualities Toadie.
Loris keeps loosening the lug-nuts on the wheels of Lyn's reality. Surely, that's bad car-ma?
Scarlet Bar. Loris, Elle and Lyn. Lyn demands an apology from Loris and to her surprise gets one. She also gets the precious, precious sprinkler back. The victory is mitigated, however, when Loris tells her that she can also retrieve her "ghastly drapes and awful light fittings." Lyn looks disproportionately offended by this slur on her taste. Elle has been on her mobile phone. It was the co-ordinator at the hotelier's conference where Dylan's supposed to be. That's the first I've heard of it. The co-ordinator was wondering where Dylan is. "He's been lying to me all this time." Sobs Elle. Could be worse Elle, he could have feigned a serious illness in order to manipulate you. Why would the co-ordinator of the hotelier's conference care where Dylan is? And why would he phone Elle's mobile? I fear that these are questions which will be forever shrouded in mystery.
Pepper offers Frazer the automobile of her love, but he is reluctant to enter into any sort of hire-purchase agreement.
House of Trouser. Frazer and Poo Poo are eating their Thai food. She's lit those candles that Zeke bought for her and the flowers he brought are in a vase on the kitchen side. Good continuity. Pepper sneezes. Apparently it was brought on by the lemon grass. Possibly that was a joke, because her name is Pepper, and pepper has a propensity to make people sneeze. I'm going to reserve my judgement on that. "If I'd known this was in store, I never would have got on my high horse," says Frazer. What? A meal of Thai food. Pepper told you what to expect. Idiot. "We've still got to eat," rejoins Poo Poo. She kisses him. He's not happy about it. They have a business agreement. They shouldn't let romance pollute their friendship. Poo Poo won't let him alone. He agrees to sleep with her, as long as there are no strings attached. I think that's a bit of a fond hope, Frazer.
Steph wants Toadie to be the driving instructor for her life without Max.
Office. Steph and Toadie are getting through the accounts. She wants Toadie to show her the ropes so that she can learn to do all the stuff that Max used to do, in case he never returns. And he wouldn't forgive her if she let the business go under. She and Toadie share some laughs over the invoices that Max wrote. For example: "If there was a moron tax, then this [delivery] guy would be paying extra!" Ha, ha, ha. What a funny guy. There's another one, which Toadie shows Steph, but which is too rude for our innocent ears. That "I've never been to Cuba" song is playing on the backing track again. I'm starting to loathe it.
Katya is letting Guy have complete control of her steering wheel.
Exterior. Ramsay Street. Lyn and Toadie are talking about something or other. Enter Katya, jogging. Guy texts her. He wants to know if she's checked her mail today. She's distressed by this and Toadie notices. He asks if all is well. It is. She's just got her "morning head on." Toadie knows what "morning head" feels like. I snigger like a puerile adolescent. Zeke is checking the Kinski mailbox. There's a package in it with his name on it. Katya snatches it from him, coming up with some cock and bull story about a mail order company getting their names confused. Zeke buys it like the credulous fool that he is. He goes inside. Katya opens the package. It's a videotape. She destroys it. She calls Guy and tells him that he wins.
Ned's looking at a BMW convertible. We see that Katya's sitting in it. He asks her how much money she's making. She tells him that it belongs to a surgeon and that she's picking it up for him. Why, then, does she need a street directory. Er ... she's going to take it for a spin first. Ned thinks this is a great idea and suggests that he drive.
Pepper's emotional need for him is the caravan attached Frazer's Robin Reliant.
House of Trouser. Frazer is cooking breakfast. Enter Poo Poo. "Something smells good," she says. "Sure ain't me," is Frazer's response. I don't think she thought it was you, Frazer. She was talking about the breakfast. Pepper suggests they do something together. Frazer thinks that by so doing they risk going from casual to couply. Pepper insists she's not clingy. Frazer's relief is palpable. Pepper looks sad.Ned and Katya's relationship is like a stolen luxury car.
Cruisin' in the BMW. Ned and Katya. Ned pulls into a carpark. "Ned," asks Katya, "why have we stopped?" By way of answer, Ned kisses her. She gets a text message from Guy asking where the money is. She tells Ned it was from a company selling ringtones. Ned resumes canoodling. She claims to be shy. His response? He puts the roof up. Um. Ned, you know there are still windows in the car, right?
Dylan's going to need a baby-seat in the four-by-four of his life.
Scarlet Bar. Loris and Elle. Elle has been trying to get hold of Dylan. Enter Lyn. She still resents that comment that Loris made about her drapes. Loris breaks down and apologises for her behaviour. Everything she does is a smokescreen to hide what a monster she truly is. She's an appalling grandmother and is Kerry's disappearance is some sort of karmic punishment for this fact. At last. Someone mentioned Kerry. It's surprising that in an episode entitled "Whatever happened to Baby Kerry?" the baby-snatching plot hasn't advanced one iota. We segue to Dylan. He has got Kerry. So, my Max theory was wrong. Ah, well. Flashback. Dylan finds the baby in a bush and picks it up. It's night. That blows my putative timeline out of the water and means either that Kerry was left alone for ages, or the nurse carried an empty crib into Sky's new room without noticing that there wasn't a baby in it. Maybe I've got my wires crossed. The chronology of the kidnapping is a real puzzle.
Credits.
I'm enjoying this baby-abduction storyline so much, I was moved to write a sonnet.
KERRY
Why, oh why did things go awry? Poor Sky!
Depriv’d of maternal comfort, of toothless mouth
At tender breast. Her warmth, her smell, her cry,
Lost – lost! – to Sky. By hand of ruthless lout –
Of father! – from love, from safety is she torn.
Through smokefilled halls wends her drunken captor.
This new Persephone through flames is borne.
Thus unsteadily begins her life’s first chapter.
Bacchus beckons, the grateful Stingray heeds,
Stumbles into a grove, from Lethe drinks,
Sleeps oblivious to frail Baby’s needs.
Lo! The grease-haired brother comes, pauses, thinks.
Gathers hapless helpless Kerry into his arms
And cossets her from threats and from alarms.
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