The Dumpster of History:
Why is GH Re-Writing My Memories?
by IceMan Gal
 

I have watched GH, with some lapses, for 25 years, since a friend told me that a gorgeous hunk of actor named Stuart Damon, who I had loved for years, was joining the soap (yes, campers, he really was a hunk then, and then some). I was drawn, spellbound, into the story, and especially the characters - passionate, volatile Alan, descending gradually into psychosis, destroying the one thing he wanted more than anything; Rick and Monica, drawn to each other by a bond of shared history and deep passion, a bond renewed under a period of unusual professional and marital stress. Rick, in particular, was torn between the revival of his almost primal feelings for Monica and his deep love for his wife, Leslie, a love tested by intimacy issues and crises involving Leslie's troubled teenage daughter Laura, but one that would eventually emerge triumphant, as Laura would emerge from the sordidness of the David Hamilton affair into radiant young womanhood, aided by her loving beau, then husband, Scott Baldwin, and finally finding true love and happiness with Luke Spencer.

Oh, wait, no, it turns out that I was wrong. Rick Webber wasn't a decent man torn apart by conflicting loyalties and desires. He was a serial adulterer. And killing David Hamilton was not an isolated - and provoked - tragedy for Laura, but the beginning of a hidden pattern of meeting shock and trauma with violence.

Shame on you, Rick Webber, for passing yourself off as a caring and virtuous family man with one potentially fatal weakness, when in reality you were a cad, whose weary wife accepted your adulteries with graceful resignation, who was so estranged from any real sense of family that your own niece had to be introduced to you by Laura as “a friend of mine who’s an artist.”

I watched as one might watch a car accident as Carly Benson Quartermaine taunted her almost-ex husband AJ with the big diamond ring presented to her by mobster Sonny Corinthos, the father of her unborn child (a child conceived during a bout of hate sex), and their quarrel escalated till, as AJ grabbed Carly and she pulled away, Carly fell down the massive Q-mansion staircase, and lost the baby. A tragic accident that has continued to affect every life involved, for ill (the death of a child, the irreparable rift between AJ and Carly) or for good (the drawing together of Carly and Sonny in what would become actual love).

What? I don’t remember it right? I see… of course. AJ pushed Carly down the stairs and is completely responsible for the loss of the child. Not only that, but Carly and Sonny were a love match from the beginning, and Sonny is a noble soul who never introduced Karen Wexler to drugs while she was working at his strip club, never did anything evil at all, never you mind what that silly Scott Baldwin says about it, or that Karen is Scott’s daughter, because you know, there are good mobsters in the world, chile…

One thing I will never forget is the magnificent love story of Lukeandlaura (such a profound super couple that their names are and always will be linked together). One of my fondest memories of those two, happily replayed for me on the recent 35^th anniversary show, was the moment Luke, standing on the terrace of the Mayor’s estate after his swearing-in, saw his dead wife – the great love of his life – and screamed her name. He raced after her and learned the whole story of her abduction and forced marriage, her escape, and her intent to just see her loved ones before disappearing, because they would be in danger from her insanely possessive husband. Luke dispatched the husband and he and Laura took off for years of blissfully happy adventures.

They weren’t? Evidently not, because as the marriage crumbled a few years ago, Laura reminded Luke forcefully that she had been running away from him that fateful day. Not because she feared for his safety and that of her family, but… well… just because?

Well, I can always sit back and mourn the loss of the Cassadines. How I miss those megalomaniacs. They were witty, they were elegant, they were snappy dressers, and the things they did to make the world safe for Greek arch villains…

No? They weren’t Greek? They were Russian? Russian?? Are you sure? Because Mikkos and Stavros aren’t exactly Russian names. I seem to remember a connection to a direct descendent of Alexander The Great… No? I’m wrong? They’re Russian aristocrats? Holy cow…. I’m so ashamed.

Well, maybe I shouldn’t be. Maybe Rick and AJ shouldn’t be hanging their head in shame either, any more than Lucky Spencer deserves to be flayed alive for being unworthy of Liz Webber’s love (already covered in a previous Shmisdom). Maybe the real shame lies with Robert Guza and Charles Pratt, the GH head writers who have decided, in their infinite Shmisdom, to rewrite the history of the soap on a whim, not to mention a wing and a prayer.

I’m not talking about those standard issue soap revisions that are as much a part of the genre as SORAS: wives you didn’t know about coming back from the dead to claim their husbands just as bride number two is walking down the aisle; children arriving out of nowhere to complicate mom’s (or dad’s) happy life; ex-lovers appearing to shake things up. And people evolve – so it’s easy to accept that, even though Character A loved Character B a few years ago, he’s changed so much that they are no longer a viable couple. No, I’m talking about a deliberate rewrite of canon – of things we have seen and heard and know to be true.

In every soap – heck, in every life – there are events that can be reinterpreted with new information, or that are subject to analysis based on viewpoint. As my ex-husband used to say, It all depends on whose ox is being gored. If you want to debate whether Rick or Alan was the love of Monica’s life, whether sex or trust was at the root of Rick and Leslie’s marital problems, if Carly and Sonny are really in love or just taking dysfunction to an art form, if Liz should be with Lucky, Jason, Zander or on her own for awhile, if Laura really came to love Stefan on the Island or was just using him… fine. I can play that game. I can play it exhaustively. But don’t tell me that Rick was a serial adulterer. I saw his deep crisis of conscience and heart as, pushed to the limit, he reached for Monica, knowing the cost, knowing the pain he would cause everyone involved. And don’t try to sell me a Laura who killed her stepfather’s ‘girlfriend’ and blacked it out because A) she was already well on the road to good mental health after the David Hamilton mess and B) she knew about Rick’s affair with Monica, who she regarded at the time, and even afterwards, as a close friend, a friendship that troubled and saddened her mother. So why would she get so bent out of shape over one in a series of extra-marital flings, even if you believe that Rick had one, which I don’t.

Playing fast and loose with established history is one of the most destructive things a head writer can do. It makes it harder for viewers to remain emotionally invested in a show, and it harms the basic continuity on which long-term plots – and both viewer and character allegiances – are based. In these cases, what makes it worse is that these sacrifices were made for very little gain. Rick was brought back with fanfare and great long-time viewer interest, for what turned out to be a short-term role that made no sense. Furthermore, the actual purpose – to usher out Genie Francis – was handled so poorly, cheating L&L fans out of the romantic remarriage they wanted, and the aftermath – Nikolas and Lucky hiding another body – proved so awkward and redundant, that what could have been a moving farewell to a great daytime actress and a chance to get closure with a former leading man of two decades’ dominance, ended up a major fizzle.

Well, it could have been worse. It’s rumoured that Rick was originally supposed to turn out to be a child molester. And there are those who will say none of it matters – after all, they’re spelling Leslie’s name ‘Lesley’ now.

But I still say the Cassadines are Greek.