The Icing on the Cake - Kirk and Beth's Corrie Wedding

You don’t see Madonna for ages, and then three come along together in Coronation Street. 

Maddie (who scrubbed up very well), Sophie, and bride Beth all dressed as the pop star for the latter’s Eighties themed wedding. Beth was not happy, but dealt with the situation by pointing that the girls were in “vogue Madonna from 1990”.

   

As with all soap weddings, Friday’s event had the usual will they/won’t they element when Kirk (who eventually turned up as Adam Ant) had a panic attack about the first dance. His nerves weren’t helped by Beth’s extended family (wonderful – we really have to see more of this heavy drinking, Fraggle Rock convention), who were not impressed with Beth’s choice of groom.

   

Beth had no such trouble. “I promise to love you on fat days and thin days,” she said, in her pre-written vows. We’re still waiting for the thin days, but it was the right sentiment.

   

Jonathan Harvey, who wrote the first of Friday’s episodes, camped it up in his inimitable style, with Sean trying to explain his tennis racquet-bearing get-up – “George Michael from his Club Tropicana days”.

   

There was an equally good episode from Perrie Balthazar, who I presume is a new writer, as the name didn’t ring any bells. Julie was in an increasingly distressed state with Mary taking credit for the cake’s icing (I absolutely love the hilarity this pair continue to create), and Julie finally losing I with Beth’s mother, who was flirting with Dev. “Weddings. Alcohol and polyester,” she sobbed outside the pub, “it’s a powder keg waiting to blow.”

   

Sally, fresh from rampant sex on the sofa with Tim, missed the ceremony but was in a good mood at the reception: “Everybody’s all right after a few glasses of Prosecco, aren’t they?” Yes. Even Tim.

   

I felt a bit sorry for Tracy, who must have been thinking about the wedding she was supposed to have had to Rob. She sat solemnly at the bar next to a plate of sausage rolls, vol-au-vents and sandwiches, assuring Beth that she was all right – “Can’t beat a beige buffet.” She was certainly attracting the attentions of Maria and Kirk’s father, Eric, who looked the wrong side of several thousand beige buffets. She, however, had eyes only for Tony, who is another powder keg waiting to blow.

   

Kirk’s mother’s wedding gift was two flights to Cyprus. “Ayia Napa?” said a hopeful Beth.  Alas, no. The accommodation is with the new in-laws. One can only hope and pray for a spin-off of that honeymoon escapade.

   

The overall message on Friday was All’s well that ends well. The couple were hitched, Dev declared that he liked Julie’s outburst, Liz insisted that she was taking a depressed Steve to Spain (as if that were not enough to deepen any depression), and Maria made up with Luke who, a week ago, Audrey had said looked like “a young Sidney Poitier”. Really? A Hawaiian American? Soaps’ insistence of lumping together all non-white skinned individuals continues to drive me nuts.

   

Even Sean ended the day with a smile on his face when his new vicar beau Billy turned up. I dread to think how they made use of that tennis racquet when the festivities ended.

   

So, good luck to the newly weds and, with Julie catching the bouquet, maybe this was prequel to what will soon be another wedding. 

I can hear Mary sharpening her cake knife even as I write.

   

Christmas in CartEnders

And so to Christmas in Albert Square, courtesy of the EastEnders.

   

Dear Lord, where do I start? Let’s begin with the basics. Ian’s glasses. Get  him a decent pair. Enough said on that front.

  

Jane and Ian in bed together. Sorry, I just wasn’t buying it. Unlike Ian, who has done exactly that in the past. The idea that he could get it any other way is, of course preposterous. Laughable, even.

   

The Nazir family getting into the spirit of Christmas. They’ve only just had presents for one of their bi-annual Eid celebrations. Now they’re just being greedy.

   

Okay, now on to the big stuff. It is only a year since the Carter family moved into the Square, but they soon made it their own, so much so that I have taken to calling it CartEnders, which it undoubtedly is.

   

Now, Danny Dyer as Mick Carter. It’s a thin line between acting emotion and looking as if you can’t quite see because you’ve lost a contact lens, and over the festive period Mick lost a lot of contact lenses. Even when Linda told him she had been raped by Dean, it looked as if he was scanning the floor in case said lost lens should saucer into view.

   

This was supposed to be a big climactic moment, but this, along with so much else, seemed to be more of a spoof than real drama. The whole gamut of  “The Dummies Guide to Expression Acting” was here. There was SITMD (Staring Into The Middle Distance) Nancy; Angry Shirley; Hurt Mick (Optrex, you should really keep your eye on this one – I see a lucrative advertising deal beckoning); Jolly But Secretly Worried Babe; Botox Bruvver of Mick (I still have no idea what his name is); and so many other CartEnders, I would get Repetitive Strain Injury were I to start writing about them all.

   

Now, let me set the scene for The Big Moment. My mum and I were on the sofa, having been watching TV for what seemed like years (nothing on, as always), and enjoying (I use the word very loosely) the usual EastEnders unhappy Christmas. Just as Mick had taken to the floor to find another lost contact lens (or beat up on Dean, as they would have us believe), Shirley tried to bring a halt to the proceedings by announcing that Dean was, in fact Mick’s bruvver (although, in fairness, she did say “brother”; it’s just funnier the other way).

   

Quite why she thought this would stop Mick is anybody’s guess. Even the most cursory reading of the Cain and Abel story should be indication enough that the sure way guaranteed to encourage someone to beat another to a pulp is by shouting “He’s your brother!”

   

It stopped Mick in his tracks, but he soon announced that this made no difference whatsoever, and off he went on another contact lens hunting expedition, stopping only to find Linda’s ring left on the bedroom dresser. I like to think that she has merely nipped off to the hairdresser, because, to be frank, not since Mary turned up at the stable without a hairdryer has such a messy coiffure graced Christmas.

   

I watched it all again at about 2am, just to be certain the whole thing hadn’t been a  ridiculous dream, but, alas, it hadn’t. Does Shirley really look 14 years older than Mick (she claimed she had him at that age). Would Stan (the always terrific Timothy West, who must really have been desperate for the money to take this role on) really not have twigged that when his wife went off to a caravan for a few months and returned with a baby, that all might not be as it seemed?

   

I really rate producer Dominic Treadwell Collins, who returned to the show at the end of 2012 and breathed new life into it. But the CartEnders have taken over to the detriment of other characters. It’s good to see Nick Cotton (John Altman) back – the show needed a new villain, albeit a resurrected one – and there can never be enough Mitchells for my liking.

   

It seems as if the CartEnders are here to stay, though, with news of renewed contracts and, doubtless, more branches of the family crawling out of the woodwork. 

In the meantime, Mick, I really hope you find that contact lens.

Which Soap is my Favourite? The Truth . . .

The question I most frequently get asked about the soaps is “Which is your favourite?”

The truth is, it varies.

For the most part, I think the writing in Coronation Street beats all the others hands down. The combination of pathos and laugh aloud humour manifests itself both in big, hard-hitting storylines and also lighter ones.

  

EastEnders is not without its laughs, too. Jake Wood, who plays Max, has terrific comic timing and can also do the heavy stuff (his farewell scenes with Tanya were among the best the show has ever done). I also like EastEnders for Jack. Oh yes, Jack. Dark, handsome Jack, who was once handcuffed to a radiator – a vision that has never left me, even after all these years.

  

Emmerdale has some terrific characters, but its recent heavy reliance on drug plots has, for me, been tedious. I know it’s an important issue; it’s just one that has never interested me. But they have plenty of animals – and that’s always an attraction.

  

Hollyoaks has an abundance of eye candy and non-stop action these days. Every week brings another “revelation” or a “blast from the past” for at least one character.

  

The Australian soaps cannot match ours for dialogue or plot, but Neighbours has the divine Dr Karl (whose medical skills know no bounds – is there anything he cannot treat?), and Home and Away has the hilarious Marilyn.

  

Personally, I preferred Home and Away when Summer Bay was exactly that – a Bay, with golden sand and waves, rather then the gangland breeding ground for sun-worshiping Mafia types it has become. There is way too much violence now, too many guns, and too many hospitals with people lying in comas – or recuperating following one of the show’s ubiquitous car crashes.

  

I’m a big fan of American soaps, although the dropping of 90210 has been traumatising. Still, it became too heavy on promoting the musical careers of its stars (something to which Australian soaps are also prone), and there are only so many men in Beverly Hills with whom Naomi could have endured yet another disastrous relationship.

  

So, the answer to which soap is my favourite, is: it varies from day to day, hour to hour.

But give me good writing, strong characters and top totty and I’m happy.

CHECK OUT MY BLOG ABOUT AMERICAN TV ON http://jascisusbox.blogspot.com

AND ALSO .MY  LOS ANGELES BLOG

http://lanotsoconfidential.blogspot.com

FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK AND TWITTER @welshjaci and @jacissoapbox

    

What's Hot, What's Not

WHAT’S HOT AND WHAT’S NOT IN THE WORLD OF SOAP

HOT

1. David Essex as Eddie Moon (EastEnders). I once interviewed him for two hours, during which time he got in barely six words – “Thanks”, every 20 minutes, as I gushed about his many talents.

2. Dr Matt (Coronation Street). Can’t help wondering what he finds to talk about with Tina, though. Safe to say it’s not Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.

3. Slow burning relationship between Lauren and Marlon (Emmerdale). Hurry up and take her over that stove, man; the suspense is killing us.

4. Father Francis (Hollyoaks). For a man of the cloth, he isn’t half quick to contemplate getting out of it at every opportunity. He’s probably downing the communion wine behind closed doors, too.

5. Performances from Alison King and Andrew Lancel as Carla and Frank (Coronation Street). Outstanding stuff in the ongoing rape storyline. And there’s more to come.

NOT

1. Dev’s son Aadi, allegedly being the next Tiger Woods (Coronation Street). Hard to believe any kids springing from Dev’s loins could be talented at anything. Let’s hope the kid puts that club to good use off the golf course.

2. Amy/Air-Mee’s hair (Emmerdale). Is it animal, vegetable or mineral? Whichever, it looks in need of a good wash. Well, a shearing wouldn’t go amiss, either.

3. Rosie’s new short hairdo (Coronation Street). Hard to believe she’s been picking up modelling jobs with it. Next week she claims to have landed a stint on Lorraine Kelly, on the catwalk. Yeah, right. And I’m a haggis.

4. Toadie’s new job with the Council (Neighbours). If we thought his job as a solicitor was dull, this one is a veritable rigor mortis of excitement.

5. Hayley’s red mac (Coronation Street). She’s been cemented into it since day one in 1998. Is there anyone on the planet who doesn’t buy a new coat at least once every 13 years?

Easter Soap Thoughts

So, the baby story on EastEnders has finally come to an end, and that now leaves me free to ponder all those niggling, worrying questions that I have been shelving.

Such as: what has happened to Paddy’s hair in Emmerdale? I have been Googling this for a while, and apparently there is no sinister story: the general theory is that he has been wearing a wig for some time (I hadn’t even noticed) and probably just got fed up with the heat of filming under it (I suspect Corrie’s Sophie has the same feeling under that crinoline toilet roll cover of a beret she has been wearing of late).

Also, on Emmerdale: what has happened to Kelly’s face? I adore Adele Silva, who plays her (nobody bitches it better), but how and when did she acquire those lips?

Did she give birth to Elliott through her mouth?

As a side note in relation to Emmerdale . . . I was watching (for about the 20th time) To Sir With Love today and noticed, in the credits, the name of Christopher Chittell (along with names such as Lulu, Judy Geeson and Adrienne Posta – all very big in their day, for those of you young enough to be my children/grand children). He had a pretty signifiacent role, too, as the young Potter. And he is amazing.

I assumed it was the same Chris (and subsequently discovered it to be him - thank you, again, Google), who has brilliantly (and just as amazingly) been playing Eric Pollard for aeons in Emmerdale, and I was really thrilled to see his name in the credits of what is, to me, one of the greatest films ever made. Blimey! He is one of the most lovely actors I have ever met and could - and should - be screaming from the rooftops about this role, which his young self carries off with extraordinary sensitivity.

I don't care how long ago it was. Talent is talent. Gosh. Honestly. I'm even more in awe of him than I already was. How many of you know this about the guy?

If you haven’t seen To Sir With Love (virtual children and grand children!), do! It is an incredible, brave film, with a moral heart that is so lacking in much of today’s cinema, and I spent Good Friday in tears after watching the star of the movie, Sidney Poitier, in another of his great films, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

I met Sidney last year in LA and was beside myself with excitement. We often forget how far we have come in relation to prejudice, not only in relation to racism, but life in general – and how very far we still have to go. Anyway, I was thrilled to see Chris’s name, and young performers should be reminded of what is undoubtedly a privilege to be working with actors who have trodden the boards long before their own trees were even planted. But I digress . . .

So, other things that I have been thinking about . . . How many wigs does Corrie’s Hayley have – one week light brown, the next week dark? Will she ever go shopping for a new Mac (the coat, not the laptop) to replace that red one, and could she possibly take EastEnders’ Alfie, cemented into that black leather jacket, with her when she does?

Will EastEnders’ Jack ever have sex with anyone who (a) doesn’t get pregnant, (b) is me?

Okay, I digress again, but he really is the hottest totty out there at the moment, although I await David Essex’s arrival with great trepidation). I saw Mr Essex in Godspell in London's Wyndham's Theatre in 1972 (the year I bought my first "surf beads" - I was sooooo hip!), when I went up on stage at the end, where he signed my cork (not a euphemism, alas - I picked it up from the stage floor from the bottle used for the Last Supper. Gosh, they knew how to throw a stage party for the audience in those days).

I interviewed the star once, too, and I didn’t shut up for the three hours over lunch: “I loved you in Godspell and then I bought all your albums and when I saw you in That’ll be the Day with Ringo Starr and you touched that girl’s naked breast and then Ringo said at the miniature golf ‘Good practice for getting things into holes’ and then you were on that suicide mission in Stardust but then I saw you in Evita . . . .” On and on and on. The poor man managed just six words: “Thanks”, every 30 seconds when I paused for breath during my adulatory monologue.

Anyway, have a great Easter, everyone, and keep watching your favourite shows! Check out my other blog, too, http://lanotsoconfidential.blogspot.com.

PS But dammit!!! Chris Chittell!!!! And Sidney Poitier!!!!! Listen up, people! AND LEARN!

New Year, New Misery

Already, I am exhausted.

Not from enduring both the UK and the US New Year celebrations in LA (4pm and midnight, respectively), but because the soaps have seen in 2011 with about as much cheer as the Australian cricket team.

Val walked out on Eric in Emmerdale, after suspecting him of having killed his wife following the plane crash of 1993 (30th of December, to be precise – another not so happy New Year); EastEnders’ Ronnie swapped her baby with Kat’s, after her own suffered a cot death; and Coronation Street’s Tracy was left for dead after having her head bashed in.

Seventeen years is a long time for Eric to be called to account for his actions on the night of the plane crash, but he assured Val that he was incapable of murder. I have to agree; if he were, surely he would have bumped off most of the other irritating women who have crossed his path over the years, Val included.

I suspect she’ll be back, not least because the tiny case she whizzed down the garden path when she left so hurriedly couldn’t have been holding more than a toothbrush and a pair of tights.

Meanwhile, in the Woolpack, there was more violence on the karaoke, where every song was being strangled. And it looked as if Mia might go the same way, when she kissed Adam and induced the wrath of Scarlett. Expect more Scarlett fever when she learns more.

Samantha Womack gave the performance of he life as EastEnders' Ronnie, when the character discovered her dead baby. At the end of the show, there were contact details given for anyone who had been “affected” by any of the issues.

I don’t have children, but I sobbed my way through the whole thing, and Ronnie’s shock, followed by the realisation of what she had done, was totally convincing – certainly a lot more convincing than the doll she had taken from the cot in a scene that made it look as if the baby had grown about 18 inches in the short distance walk between the house and the Vic.

I’m also not convinced that Alfie wouldn’t have spotted the different baby. Apart from the identical outfits, they had entirely different physical features. Maybe all that staring at the full moon has done more to his eyesight than we realised.

Coronation Street went for laughs in the vileness with which Tracy treated the locals in the hours leading up to her beating. Although Steve was found with bloodied hands at the scene, there are plenty of suspects.

1. Emily. David cut her ear when doing her hair, after Tracy went into the salon and goaded him about their sleeping together. Having her hair coloured was the biggest excitement in Emily’s year (although enjoying a sweet sherry was right up there, too), so taking a mallet to Tracy’s head might have been hard to resist.

2. Nick. Having truly lost Leanne after she discovered he had sex with Tracy, he took to the bottle of whisky, which is always the drink of angry men in Walford (it’s always vodka for angry women, as it is in Weatherfield, too) and invariably brings about fury. When will somebody tell Nick, by the way, that nookie in a bed is not illegal? The wine bar, the bookie’s, alleyways - no floor or wall is too sticky or dusty for him.

3. David. Always chief suspect at a crime scene, and definitely this one, after Tracy criticised his sexual performance. I still can’t get my head around David being old enough to have sex, especially as he looks barely old enough to turn on his train set, let alone a woman.

4. Mary. Having had a premonition in which she saw Tracy “lying on a slab”, after being insulted by the younger woman, she’s a good bet. Let’s not forget how she has already managed to kidnap Norris and get herself excluded from Hayley’s wedding (not to mention sabotaging the wedding train); there is darkness there, certainly. A conviction would mean the end of the character, though, and the show can’t afford to lose one of its great comic creations.

5. Gail. Despite the fact that in one scene, there appeared to be a difference of three feet in height between the women, let’s not forget that Gail has three dead husbands behind her, which is something of a record. That iron is also almost permanently in her grasp, too, so could easily double up as a weapon.

6. Steve. It’s unlikely that he would kill the mother of his child, much as he is disturbed by her threats to reveal his and Becky’s baby-buying exploits. What was he doing in the alleyway, though, and, more to the point, why does nobody ever lock the door to their yards?

Whoever turns out to be the attacker, of this much we can be certain: another hilarious court case, more prison scenes with lots of dopey extras, and surely a blue plaque on the street that could justly be re-named Death Row.

Here's wishing you all a happier New Year than our soap counterparts look likely to have.

A New Twist On Laying The Table

There is only one reason any soap introduces a new drinking venue, and it has nothing to do with providing the locals with somewhere a bit more upmarket than the local pub.

No, it is purely because a new venue provides a Back Room, and that BR quickly becomes the place where new sexual action takes place.

You wouldn’t want to touch any of the furniture in the BR – allegedly “the office” - of EastEnders’ R & R, for instance. How many trysts have taken place across the desk, up against the wall, against the door?

Janine even managed to handcuff Jack to a radiator in there – an event guaranteed to appeal to viewers such as myself, for whom being alone with Jack and a pair of handcuffs in any room would be a more than a fair cop.

Now, Coronation Street has installed The Joinery, a fancy new wine bar being run by Nick and Leanne, who have taken the joinery aspect of the name a little too literally. On the opening night, they christened the furniture, and next week the BR provides even more opportunities for their illicit affair.

Who has the awful job of cleaning up after these people, for whom pub furniture is such a turn-on? And at the rate Nick and Leanne are going at it, it’s not just a cleaner they’ll need to tidy the place up, but a joiner – which, under the new banner, might be an appropriate call.

It’s easy to see why Leanne might prefer Nick to Peter, though. Peter’s an alcoholic with a bad taste in overcoats, his black one clearly so heavy it causes him to stoop, a literal weight on his shoulders; on a dark night, you could be mistaken for thinking you had bumped into the Hunchback of Notre Dame on the cobbles.

True, he has a very cute son in Simon, but the boy is never going to win Child of the Year in the entertainment stakes. How could he, when the sum total of his playtime in the past year has been kicking the occasional ball around the Red Rec?

Nick is the better bet in terms of earning potential, although with all that frowning, I suspect Leanne has to take an iron to his forehead, purely in order to make his face kissable.

Carla giving him grief? One line frown. Hoping to have sex with Leanne? Two. Leanne giving him the brush-off after a night of passion? T’s a veritable Clapham Junction passing through his brow. When the sun is out and he has to squint as well as frown, there is so much frowning action going on, his face shrinks to a shrivelled tangerine. There will doubtless be a lot more frowning in the coming weeks, when Leanne decides which man she prefers.

Carla, meanwhile, is waiting in the wings for Peter, but with two dead husbands under her belt, I suspect he’ll be taking up refuge in that overcoat a little more often.

It’s a complicated love pool on the Street at the moment, with Molly still pursuing Kevin, whom she prefers to Tyrone. To be honest, to me all she’s doing is switching cabins on the Titanic, but each to her own.

Meanwhile, in Albert Square, sexual activity is about to move out of the back room and into other venues, including Phil’s car.

At least it takes the pressure off the poor old furniture for a change.