Home and Away “Welcome to Summer Bay”: Rewatching the early years.

[Mel O'Drama]

Episode 228 (...continued)


Making up for any shortfall is the next scene in which two of the series’ finest actors take the episode somewhere special. I like that Ailsa and Donald’s friendship seems to have been given a little nudge in the last few episodes. Donald recently came by to help Ailsa renovate the series’ newest set: The Bayside Diner, and she got a few chortles out of his statement that he was good with his hands, before commenting that his shelves looked wonky.

In this episode’s heart to heart, Ailsa drops by his house at Celia’s behest, to try to get him in the Christmas spirit. She finds him reading a manuscript. He shows her his present from Barbara: the manuscript for On The Crest Of A Wave:

This book’s remarkable which is why I’m allowing it to be published… I won’t be receiving any Father Of The Year awards when this is released. On the contrary. I shall be publicly humiliated… In a perverse way I’m so proud of him for writing it I want everyone to know how talented he was. Listen to this, appropriate for today:


“There was no ritual of Christmas at my house. On Christmas morning I was not permitted to open my gifts until after my father had arisen and breakfasted. He was a teacher, but he was never on school holidays. I remember no joy, no love expressed, and the only toys I can recall receiving were functional and educational and downright boring to a kid who wanted nothing more than to tame the ocean…


Christmas was devoid of fantasy. The only fantasy I had in my sterile childhood was that my father would die. My father was the weight of water. Threatening me; denying me; suffocating me. I hated him.”


Well, it, um, should make interesting reading for the folks of Summer Bay, don’t you think?

It’s bleak enough to soak up any saccharine that may be lingering from other scenes. And Norman Coburn once again gives a commanding performance. He’s become a firm favourite series actor of mine this time round. He’s just wonderful. And I’ve got a lot of love for Judy Nunn, so that didn’t hurt things.


Lunch is served at the Fletchers. Miss Molloy rounds off her visit to them and heads onto the next. She’s certainly dedicated. Lance drops by to say he’s invited to his Mum’s, so Celia’s interference has paid off. Then Tom says a few words to the gathered family (“now I know what they mean by cold turkey”, Bobby quips):

I’d like to make a toast to absent friends: to Lynn, home on Christmas Day with her Mum and Dad. To Carly. I hope she’s enjoying her independence, and I hope she’s sharing a thought with us. Now, Miss Molloy gave me a bit of good news, in fact. We might be getting a new member of the family some time after the wedding. So, to all the Fletcher brood, eh, new and old.

So they haven’t let the grass grow after the conversations of the last couple of episodes. The mention of Lynn in particular was a nice touch. This will be their first Christmas without her and I’m glad she hasn’t been completely forgotten. Yet.



The final act is where the goodwill really wallops you round the head. A plinky plonky instrumental of Deck The Halls provides the soundtrack as virtually everyone in the main cast snakes into Summer Bay House, bearing presents, bottles of bubbly or plates of mince pies to add to the already considerable feast on the Fletchers’ dining table. Tom ladles out the eggnog and the atmosphere is one of happy chaos, with numerous conversations going on at the same time (none of which are really distinguishable, but we get the idea).

There are three exceptions to the regulars in attendance, though all are addressed or rectified.

Roo is off-screen, presumably feeling down having said a polite goodbye to David as he left the show.

Donald is at home alone and we see Ailsa slip away and appear in his living room. As when she arrived earlier, he is sitting reading the manuscript.

This time the story is different and he comes to the Fletchers where he smiles politely through the salutations and sing-song. There’s a great moment during the cast’s rendition of We Wish You A Merry Christmas where he stands next to Tom who is really going for it and looks extremely self conscious.

Meanwhile, Carly sits in her darkened shared home, before decisively standing up and leaving, then taking a taxi as the montage continues. When she arrives at Summer Bay House, she stands at the door and looks in at the happy singing. After some moments, she turns and walks away. It’s very similar indeed to the scene in the Pilot where Bobby looks longingly at the Fletchers from the same vantage point. And the feeling it evokes is the same. One can almost feel Carly’s desire to belong versus the feeling that she doesn’t quite know how to connect with these people who look so much happier than she feels. It also has echoes of the Season One finale to Sons and Daughters, where Patricia was similarly excluded from a celebration.

The end titles, with the merriment at the Fletchers being shown in the cutouts instead of the usual surfy scenes are a nice touch. There are even flashes of Carly and Roo, though these could have been outtakes from other scenes (Carly wears two different outfits, so one is almost definitely from another time).

Season One has been so enjoyable to revisit. It holds up well, and the first half of the season especially had a welcome rawness and honesty to it. I’d forgotten more than expected, which has added the element of surprise. The many things I remember clearly haven’t been spoilt from seeing them come to life again. Quite the opposite.

I’m looking forward to cracking on with Season Two on Prime in the coming days. Here’s hoping the rest of Season Two is available very soon. And perhaps the few that follow it.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

SEASON TWO​

Episodes 229-232


Back in 1989 the delineation of the Home and Away seasons wasn’t clear to UK viewers. Now that we’ve caught up with Australian episodes, the series takes a lengthy break over Christmas here as it does there. But back then, the first episode of Season Two simply aired on ITV the day after the Season One finale with no fanfare or promotion.

I remember spotting the text at the end that mentioned the year changed from 1988 to 1989 with this episode which gave me a pang of excitement as I was watching it in 1989 and so it made the series, characters and actors feel somehow more tangible. This was a new experience for me in Aussie half hour soap fandom. We were still well over a year behind Neighbours, so episodes never displayed the year in which I was watching it. And we were so far behind with Sons and Daughters, Prisoner and the other ITV non-syndicated ones that part of their charm was smiling at the fashions worn by the characters.

In 2020 as in 1989 I began Season Two the day after Season One ended (it’s ironic that the watershed between seasons is still unclear even though Amazon Prime groups Home and Away into “Seasons”. According to their numbering, “Season Two” began with episode 200).

It’s plain to see why it wouldn’t be clear that this is a new season to layviewers. It’s mostly business as usual. Most importantly, the opening credits remain unchanged and identical.

There’s now The Bayside Diner, but even that set debuted at the end of Season One. We have seen the outside for the first time though.

There are subtle clues that there is a slightly new direction. There’s Philip’s haircut (ye gods, the man had a farewell sequence just a few episodes ago and now he’s made a dramatic return). Certain elements have been amped up. The two most noticeable examples being more physical “comedy” with Lance and Martin and Stacey’s new, tyrannical personality. Both are terrible, but the change in Stacey is perhaps more disappointing because watching Lance and Martin was already an endurance test. Stacey isn’t unwatchable. Just more one-dimensional.

Stacey now takes the hard line with business and is happy to screw over Summer Bay. Her latest scheme is a residential housing development in addition to the resort. Something nobody in town was aware of until it was announced.

In a nice touch, the opening scenes of the season were taken from a promotional video she’d put together to push Summer Bay as a resort for wealthy city folks to have holiday pads:

Summer Bay: Barely an hour from the city and offering the investment opportunity of a lifetime… Homes for the discerning executive. Don’t you owe yourself a lifestyle a cut above the rest?

I couldn’t help noticing that some of the images in the video looked familiar from establishing shots and possibly the opening credits. There was even apparently covert video of the montage when Alf went out on his motorised dingy when considering whether to back the project. Those sneaky Macklins.

Stacey spends most of her time these days chewing out Tom and Frank with demands and threats of the “You’ll do it if you want to keep your job” variety. It’s very pedestrian. But at least there’s been some classic Ailsa fury:

You’re trying to turn this place into… a peasant village, servicing the important people down the road.… Lackeys for the yuppies. You’re trying to blend us into the urban sprawl.

I’m not here for your approval. The estate’s going through.

You tried to tell me once that you weren’t your father’s daughter. Believe me, I can see now that you are every inch a Macklin. And I don’t call that anything to be proud of.

Philip, naturally is given a frosty reception from Stacey even though his Big Surprise is he wants to be the new GP at the resort’s practice. In turn, Stacey’s revealed her own Big Surprise: one Nick Walsh.

Philip: Nick’s asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes.

Stacey and Philip are being pushed as this season’s romantic leads. The couple that we root for despite all the obstacles that come this way. It’s a little like Alf and Ailsa were for much of Season One, but without the charisma and substance.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 229-232 (...continued)


With a number of characters leaving school at the end of Season One, we haven’t yet returned to Summer Bay High. But the ghost of the HSC hovers over the show, which is only right since we spent so much time with the characters as they took them. Now we have the results coming through. And Bobby is so pleased with hers she goes out of her way to thank the person she credits:

To the old ratbag teacher who used to play heavy and get up my nose. And who got me the marks. Flathead Fisher.

And Donald has a present for her:

It’s not exactly from me. It’s Alan’s novel. There are some passages in there I may take a strong personal objection to, but…

Nobody’s perfect.

Go on… Read the dedication.

“To Bobby. Who taught me that ‘Dad’ is not a four letter word.”

It’s to both of us.

The scene is significant in showing the continuing fascinating relationship between Donald and Bobby. And equally significantly it runs alongside Bobby’s quest to find her parents. This has proved to be the highlight of the season so far. And it introduces a new method of telling a story.

Look… ever since that jerk who used to call himself my Dad said that I’m not really his, I’ve been feeling like bits of me are missing. I want to know the whole story. I want to know who I am.

Determined to piece things together, Bobby does some sleuthing with Ailsa’s help

Roo’s Mum kept a diary. It’s all in there. That’s how Alf found out. [It’s] round the house somewhere.

You’re going away aren’t you?

You get my drift? You know where we keep the spare key. You may not thank me in the long run, kiddo. Remember what Alf said. This could be the worst move you’ve ever made.

Bobby is caught in the house by Celia who confiscates the key, and so decides to break and enter with Frank under cover of darkness. They eventually find the all-important 1970 diary and as Bobby begins reading relevant passages, the scene dissolves to bleached sepia as the stories of two decades earlier come to life onscreen:

Even now I have to pinch myself to believe it. B. Of all people, B…

We all knew that the marriage hasn’t been perfect. But her husband’s own best friend. Little wonder she’s in such a state over it all

Just as flashbacks which hold the key to a present mystery were the hallmark of Knots Landing’s Eighth Season a couple of years before this, so these flashbacks bring an exciting new dynamic to the new season here. It’s worth noting that these Home and Away episodes aired in the UK some six months before the Knots flashbacks had their British debut. Another reason, perhaps, why these Summer Bay flashbacks seem so fresh and innovative. Sons and Daughters, of course, had begun with flashbacks (as did Home and Away itself). But those were linear, while these are fragmented and interspersed with the present, which is a far more contemporary way of doing it. Then there's the darkly mysterious "B" who Martha has helped cover for. Who is she? Even though I know, she still feels quite captivating. Didn’t Pretty Little Liars get a whole series out of a mystery person known only by a single initial?

The past informs the present, as Bobby reacts to what she’s just “read”:

Some parents. Me Dad, well, he probably never even found out I exist. So you can’t really blame him. But as for this B. character: my mother. Well, you read what it said. She couldn’t wait to get rid of me. An’ it’s not like she didn’t have the money… She was just some cowbag who was having a bit on the side with her husband’s best mate.

...continued​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 229-232 (...continued)

You land on my doorstep insisting I’m your long-lost mother, and then you turn around and tell me I don’t have the right to know what led you to this conclusion?

I’ve always loved a bit of mystery, and this twist on the familiar soap “who’s the daddy” scenario is a great fit here. Centring it around a mysterious mother is even more difficult to pull off, but any potential shortcoming with the mystery itself is dispelled by the opportunity to see “historical” characters such as Martha. As well as young Celia’s legendary beau, Les:

Well, it just so happens the period you’re interested in - late 1970 - coincides with a rather important event in my own life: my engagement… We decided to have a party. Les had just received his orders. We only had a fortnight to make plans. Before he left. Well, simply everybody came except Martha… Martha went away. Without Alfred. Oh, I never did understand why. It was all so terribly sudden… She said some mysterious friend had invited her to stay. Nobody we knew. She didn’t know how long she was going to be away or anything.

In line with the shop’s new trendy image and her “Grooverburgers”, present day Celia has begun wearing the same dress as her young self. Or perhaps it’s wearing her.

As Celia talks to Frank and Bobby, she remembers there was another conspicuous absence from Celia’s engagement party - someone with the initial “B”. And so we are led into an enjoyably soapy fake-out as Bobby pays a welcome visit to a departed character now living in the city:

What did you think about Alan’s book? …He cared a lot about you, you know.

It’s a pity he didn’t know the whole story, isn’t it? The bit about me being his half sister… Just answer me. Who was the guy you were messing around with behind old Flathead’s back? Why did you give me away, Barbara?

I enjoyed that even the interiors of Barbara’s place were clearly filmed in a real house, and it was full of warm, natural light.

Whether intentional or not, this strongly suggests truth. And so there’s no question that Barbara’s reaction is for real:

Bobby. I wish I could say I was your mother and give you the great, joyful reunion. Come to your wedding and all that. But I can’t. Losing Alan has left a huge gap in my life, and I was counting on you to help me fill it. I do want to see more of you. But as a friend, not a daughter. I’d be proud to be your mother. Really. But I’m not.

She may not be the B., but it's wonderful to see Barbara again. And the chemistry is still as good as ever between her and Bobby.

Smart cookie that she is, Barbara is quick off the mark in solving the mystery for herself:

Listen Alf, I think you’d better come over. See I’ve been putting two and two together. An’ I know who Bobby’s real mother is.

How did you cotton on to it?

Well, for one thing, B. As in “Bugsy” …If you don’t stop acting like an ostrich and start facing a few realities, I am gonna walk out that door, jump in my car and drive straight to Summer Bay. So start talking.

So we’ve ruled out a few people who may have been in the running for Bobby’s mother. But there’s still a long road ahead. We haven’t even thought about Bobby’s father yet, for goodness’ sake.

Bobby’s obsession gave us one of those classic, sweet earth mother Pippa scenes (with a dash of cissexism thrown in):

How important is it really, in the long run? More important than your wedding? More important than Frank? Than your future? I’ve been thinking: it may need a fair bit of fixing up, but I’ve still got the dress I was married to Tom in. And the veil. The whole bit. I’d be very proud if you wanted to have it. I don’t think Christopher’ll be needing it. At least I hope not.

But things don’t stay settled in Summer Bay House for long.

I just had a phone call from the city. Carly’s in hospital… She’s taken an overdose.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 233-240


While there’s no danger (thankfully) of entering Number 96 territory, Home and Away has popped its cherry with the first glimpses of nudity. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the nakedness in question was that of a new character who’s not a regular. In his second episode, Nick went skinny dipping as he’d forgotten his swimsuit, only for Philip, jealous after Nick’s betrothal to Stacey, to steal his clothes.

Equally unsurprisingly, the situation was played for laughs when he was spotted by Celia and her gossipy friend Betty Falwell. In a nice touch, their walk along the beach began with a conversation that gave us a window into their childhood:

Oh Betty, this takes me back. Remember the golden summers in the Guides? Sing songs around the campfire. Bob-a-job week. Lemon squash. Church fêtes…

Mosquito bites. Calamine lotion. Hay fever. Sweaty gymslips...

Betty, look!

Ooh yes. A naked man.

A pervert. A social deviant.

He’s got rather a nice physique.

Naturally, he is rounded up by Celia and her shooting stick offscreen (presumably in order to keep it age appropriate).

Thirty years ago, the brief and distant flash of male buttock as Nick dived into the wave seemed quite daring to me. It's not, really. Carry On Constable had far more male cleavage on display three decades before this. However, when making screen caps I was very surprised to realise that as the scene fades in from black there are a few frames at the very top of the scene in which there is a glimpse of frontal male nudity. It’s so brief as to be subliminal, and the image is still quite dark as it hasn’t faded in properly. But it’s there. I have the screen caps to prove it… but this isn’t the place to post them as they’re decidedly NSFW.


Following his arrest for indecent exposure, Nick has continued to be arch, slick and generally greasy. It’s hard to invest because if Nick were a stick of rock he’d have “plot point” written all the way through him. His raison d’être is to be bad enough to make Philip look good and get the audience rooting for Phil and Stacey.

Nick’s biggest, baddest move was to approach the Fletchers behind Stacey’s back after consulting Gordon Macklin:

As it stands, the residential sites are planned for the west of the town. But the best place for us to develop would be south: through your caravan park.

We’ve never given any thought to selling up.

Well, you probably never had someone who could make you a decent offer before. How does three hundred and fifty thousand dollars sound?

Three hundred and fifty thousand Australian dollars doesn’t sound a great deal to me for a decent sized house on a substantial plot of land. But that’s my 2020 head. It’s easy to forget how insane property prices have become (in the UK, at least. I don’t know about Sydney).

There’s a brief period where Tom and Pippa seriously consider moving. Tom even goes so far as to shake Nick’s hand on it. But then they’re frozen out by Neville, Floss, Lance and Sally who are all unhappy about being forced to leave their homes. And so they change their minds and all’s back as it was. It’s not earth shattering, but it’s good to see a semi-dramatic story for Floss and Nev in particular, until the inevitable “all’s well that ends well”.

With Stacey’s faith in Nick shaken, Phil takes the opportunity to make his big move on Stacey:

I want you to marry me, Stacey. I love you. I mean it… You can’t go through with it, Stacey. You can’t marry that guy. You’ve got to marry me.

I know I should care about these two but I just can’t. It's like watching an inferior spin-off.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 233-240 (continued)


Carly’s stint in the city is apparently over. It was a lot shorter than I remember, but this could well be due to the pace at which I’m watching.

Just as Tom, Pippa and Frank recently coming to see Bobby in hospital felt quite healing, so did Pippa and Steven’s visit to hospitalised Carly embody a kind of redemption for her wayward character. There are lots of tearful hugs with Pippa, and when Pippa leaves the room Carly tells Steven he was right and she was wrong - something she would have struggled to do in different circumstances:

Thank you for not giving up on me. You’re a good friend, Stevo.

However, whereas Bobby’s visit, with its callbacks to the Pilot served as a reminder of how far she had come, Carly’s seems to demonstrate that in many respects she is still very much a work in progress who is still struggling to find a healthy coping strategy to deal with past traumas. And when Steven leaves Carly alone for a moment, she whips out a Sue Ellen Ewing staple accessory:

Assertive Pippa - the lioness that comes out when one of her cubs is threatened - makes a welcome return when Pippa goes to deal with Carly’s erstwhile roommate - and drug supplier - Annabelle Hayes:

She was out of her depth in the big city. You didn’t offer her any support… you just plied her with drugs… I really don’t care if you end up in some gutter somewhere because of your revolting habit… People who use drugs need their heads read. But dealers are the scum of the earth.

I don’t deal.

Really? I’m sure the police will be glad to hear that. They’re on their way here… I think they’d like to take a look around… A girl spent last night in hospital after taking drugs you gave her. The police are very interested, believe me.

When we return to them, Pippa is packing Carly’s case and Annabelle is flushing her stash:

You were bluffing. The cops would’ve been here by now.

They’ll be here. Sooner or later, they’ll catch up with you.

Do you know what you just cost me? …You owe me about two grand. You’ll pay.

You don’t frighten me, young lady. Your tactics might work with the impressionable kids you exploit, but not me. Goodbye.

One question that sprung to mind is why did Annabelle wait and then only flush her drugs seconds before deciding the police weren’t coming. It’s one of those soapy bits of business that’s necessary to quickly give us an overview of what’s happened but doesn’t actually make that much sense if you stop and think about the logistics. All the same, it’s always great to see this side to Pippa. There was something quite dark about it, and it wasn’t just the lighting.

Carly’s fear that Pippa would face repercussions for crossing Annabelle reminded me of when Beryl Palmer dealt took it upon herself to deal with Leanne Watson’s nasty friends, only to be the target of their revenge. I can’t remember if anything more comes from Pippa’s meddling here. But being a soap that frequently likes to cross the “t”s, I like to think it will.

At the moment, though. Annabelle is the least of Carly’s problems. When Tom gives Carly a drink to toast her return, she runs to her room then makes a confession:

I was lying, Tom. Because I feel like an alcoholic. See, I wanna stop, but I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I need you to help me.

Tom takes Carly to see Alcoholism Expert Dr Phil who naturally analyses her and instructs her to go cold turkey. Surely that’s a great strain to put on someone’s body that medication could make easier. I’m not quite sure of the reasoning here: Is it a sign of the times? Lack of knowledge on Phil’s part? Has he decided that Carly isn’t physically dependent? Or maybe it’s just the writers wanting to show the consequences of alcohol abuse and thus deter. Anyway, three days of cold turkey it is.

I really like the scenes that take place overnight while Carly is going through the withdrawal process. Tom and Pippa taking turns to spend time with her and crossing paths on the landing. Steven trying to explain cold turkey to Sally (this had its own consequences when Sally told Alison Patterson’s sister and word spread through Summer Bay like wildfire that Carly was on drugs, leading Carly to ask Celia to spread the word that Carly was an alcoholic not a junkie. The second time Celia’s gossipy nature has been so appropriated recently). There’s a really nice scene where Pippa sits at Carly’s bedside on a hard chair, asleep, clearly exhausted from being with her all night, only for Carly to wake her moaning and Pippa springs straight back into parent mode by holding the bucket for Carly to throw up into.

There’s an ugliness to the scenes with Carly. Obviously the detox scenes are nicely unglamorous (although the Brookside viewer in me wanted them to be just that bit more raw than they were). But the ugliness is in the character of Carly herself. I share Tom and Pippa’s weariness with Carly’s tendency to propel herself from drama to more drama. From frying pans to fires. And all with the same victimy whining that the current drama is the worst thing to happen to her and she’s learnt her lesson. And I share their pangs of guilt for feeling this way. After all, we’ve spent time with Carly and we’ve grown very fond of her, and we appreciate not all her problems are her own fault. But it’s frustrating nonetheless.

There’s even a scene in which Pippa as good as tells Matt that Carly is holding onto him by emotional blackmail and suggests he needs to be direct with her. It’s very iron fist in velvet glove and seems a little cold. But as I’m discovering this time round, there’s far more to Pippa than her cheery petiteness would have you believe.

In keeping with his human Ken doll image, Matt’s current niche on the series is to be arm candy for someone he appears to be dating but actually with an ulterior motive. And so he helps Roo deter Martin’s advances by pretending he’s fallen for her. He helps plan revenge against Alison by pretending he’s interested in her (the plan being to dump her once she’s invested. Which is pretty nasty whichever way you look at it). And he stays with Carly to give her hope, only to dump her once she, too, is invested:

I wanted to stick by you through all the sickness and that but as far as you and I going out together. I’m sorry, but it’s just not going to work.

I know I’ve been awful to you but I’ll change. I won’t be selfish anymore and I won’t be a hassle anymore.

You can’t change your whole personality, Carly. It’s just been one hassle after another… I like you, and I care about you. But I’ve got another girlfriend now and it’s just all over between us, OK?

I found this an interesting and quite touching scene. It's got the lot: soapiness; teen angst; brutality; rawness; fear; endings. Matt’s actions are harsh and he probably does a great deal of damage to Carly. But there’s a truth to it. Not only do his words highlight the difficulty people close to Carly have in dealing with endless drama, but it even comes across that Matt genuinely cares for Carly, and finds doing this difficult despite (or perhaps because of) her needy clinginess. I wasn’t really sure how to feel about it, nor which character I felt more sympathy towards. Which is fantastic.

continued...

​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 233-240 (...continued)

I think you’d better sit down, Alf.

Has there been an accident?

You could say that, yes. I’m nearly five months pregnant.

With their rocky patch over and new Roo’s wholehearted acceptance of Ailsa, the Stewarts need a little sturm und drang in their lives. And the writers are happy to service them (and us) with a few little curves.

Leading up to the news we get a few little titbits that, when reviewed, may - or may not - suggest some of the changes in her body leading her to go to the doctor (with women’s trouble, she says, which is both a red flag to the viewer and a neat explanation for why Alf would ask no more questions in response). She tells Roo she’s dieting after their holiday, and we see her channelling Fiona Thompson by exercising on the living room floor with the aid of a tape on a boom box.

Being five months along is explained away - and fairly convincingly - by Ailsa saying she’d experienced similar changes in her body through overwork and she thought it was that. She’d considered it could be early menopause, but not pregnancy. It’s also a nice way of taking away any control Ailsa may have over the situation. Whether or not she would have considered a termination we don’t know. But that option is possibly not one that would be considered this far down the line. Even with health concerns.

And there are health concerns, mostly down to Ailsa's age. This arguably shows how things have changed in such a short time. Judy Nunn was only forty three when these scenes were shot, so I assume Ailsa is around the same age. She comments to Pippa that she's "got a few years" on her, and that pregnancy didn't get easier as one got older. Which is true. But I'd say there are probably a lot more women of Ailsa's age having their first child with less risk nowadays. Not that I'm an expert. We'd have to consult Pregnancy Expert Dr Phil.

Alf’s reaction to the pregnancy is one of delight and he sees only the good. And so Ailsa - echoing Pippa last season - finds herself keeping the potential problems from those closest to her. The only person who knows the full story is Philip, whose counsel prompts Ailsa to comment that he should take up psychiatry (as if he needs any encouragement):

I didn’t have the heart to tell him.

It’s possible the child could be deformed, certainly. But on the other hand there might not be any problem at all.

I’ve always wanted to have children. I know I’d be a great mother. But my early child-bearing years were spent in prison. And when I got out it was a whole different set of priorities. A case of how to survive with a criminal record. Now I finally get what I want and it’s too damn late.

You should tell [Alf].

No. I’m not putting him through four months of sweating it out… Alf’s great in a crisis but give him time to brood and he falls to pieces. I’m not spoiling it for him, Philip. I’ll do the worrying for both of us.

Good soap is frequently about lack of communication. Great soap convincingly presents lack of communication as something profoundly noble. And so Ailsa’s decision shows great promise.


In a nice twist, Celia is the person who is most switched on to Ailsa’s potential predicament. And she raises the subject with a sensitivity that shows us a very welcome depth to the character:

You mightn’t think that a spinster knows anything about pregnancy but I do keep myself informed… To be honest, I often wonder whether I might still meet a nice man and have a child of my own… Although having babies at our age does have its risks. Not just for the mother.

You’re not suggesting I don’t go through with it?

Oh, heaven forbid. On the contrary, I’m sure God will grant you and Alfred a perfectly healthy bouncing child. What I’m trying to say is: if by any misfortune… Well, I just want you to know that the family will be there to give you all the love and support that you need.

Thanks Celia. Uh, let’s keep this between ourselves, hmm? He’s so happy. I don’t want to spoil it for him.

It’s a sweet and intimate scene between these two great actresses. I love the direction - the way the camera moves round and gets closer before going into the traditional soap close ups. Grounding it further, the scene began with Alf and Roo also present, but they’d gone into the kitchen. It’s a very relatable kind of situation, and it also creates the suggestion that perhaps Alf and Roo are having their own heart to heart about the pregnancy in the kitchen.


Roo’s past has been used to good effect here. Ailsa was initially concerned that the pregnancy would upset her delicate relationship with Roo:

We could have some problems with her...

Oh, I don’t know. She seems to have accepted you.

Mmm. Just. She’s still got a very possessive attitude towards you.

Roo’s reaction is far more accepting:

To my lovely wife… and the new bub.

I’ll drink to that.

To the baby.

Well, don’t all look at me. You know Alf did have something to do with it.

^Well, I suppose pregnant Ailsa’s been consuming alcohol for the last five months. What’s a few more, eh?



Ironically, it’s Alf who almost smashes the fragile trust within the new family unit when he receives a poison pen letter and responds instinctively:

Ruth. I reckon you’ve done some pretty despicable things in your time but this takes the cake. You oughta be ashamed of yourself.

Roo’s initial response is almost funny, considering her actions over the series’ first season:

How could you even think I’d do something like this?

But she’s quick to point out that she recognises why Alf would jump to such a conclusion. And she goes a step towards earning the trust back by confronting Alison who she suspects penned the letter. Alf isn’t the only person who appreciates the new Roo:

Knowing that there’s someone out to get you for whatever reason…

They won’t break you, Ailse. Others have tried and failed. Like me, for instance.

Oh, that was a long time ago.

I know. But I couldn’t really blame you if you thought I had written it.

Your father’s very proud of you. And so am I. You’ve been through one heck of a lot for a kid your age… All of that could have broken a weaker person but you came through it with flying colours. I just wanted to say that Alf and I are both very proud of what a mature and responsible young woman you’ve become. And we know that there is no way you would have written something like that.

Thanks. I’m glad we get on now… I don’t want it to change.

Neither do I. And it won’t.

Roo’s humility and contrition and the way it affects this previously fiery relationship brings much warmth to these scenes. It’s a little saccharine at times, in an “everyone has learned a valuable lesson” kind of way. But it’s entirely forgivable because it’s been a journey for the viewer as much as the characters and we feel they’ve earned this. For me as a viewer their past still colours today’s interactions. Making nice with Ailsa while stirring out of sight would have been right in character for old, bitchy Roo. And while Ailsa didn’t for a minute seem to think Roo had sent the letter, if she did have any suspicions, what she said would still be the perfect way to handle it. After all, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.


Roo’s new Little Miss Sunshine persona adds even more of a contrast to the general stirring of Alison, who at one point tried to recruit Roo to get revenge against a former mutual enemy, once again giving Roo the chance to prove how much she’s grown, not just to the townspeople and to us, but also to herself. As she reflects to old flame and new colleague Frank on her first day at The Macklin Group:

She wanted me to put itching powder in Bobby’s wedding dress… I just sat there and looked at her. Thought what a pathetic slime head. Then I remembered all the things I did last year…They were a lot worse. I felt so stupid.

continued...
​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 233-240 (...continued)



The poison pen letter wasn’t a one-off. Alf and Ailsa receive another:

And then it’s the turn of Bobby:

Somebody has been sending us some rather awful hate mail. Somebody who knows a lot about us.

Snap. You got one too?

Naturally, this reawakens the beast that Bobby had been trying to push to the side:

Is it true, Alf?

Of course it’s not.

Yeah, well it could be, couldn’t it. I mean, you say you don't know who my real father is. Couldn’t you just ask my real mother just to make sure?

There’s a Scooby Doo deduction when Alf compares the two letters:

I reckon these have come from two different people… That’s been done on an electric typewriter, an’ this has been done on an old manual one. An’ look at this one. The bottom of the “y’”s missing on there.

Who’d have guessed Alf would be so observant; or that he’d know so much about typewriters?


Luckily, Frank has been sent a typed letter from Alison’s milko father and Bobby quickly Nancy Drews that Alison sent the letter to her after Roo had alerted her to the fact that someone else was sending poison pen letters to Alf and Ailsa:

Incidentally, the note clearly says “Pattinsons Dairy”, while the previous exterior of the house called it “Summer Bay Dairy” with the proprietors being listed as “Patterson”. Alison’s always been called Patterson as far as I know, so I’m assuming this is a typo on the part of the props department. Or perhaps Mr or Mrs Patterson.


The suggestion of Flathead Fisher being Bobby’s father at this point is quite an audacious move on the part of the writers. And while this is dangled briefly in front of us, can’t help but raise the question of “What if” to the audience during their next encounter in the diner:

I wouldn’t have said this a year ago but the changes in that young lady are little short of extraordinary.

Gee, thanks.

Oh Bobby. I was just saying how annoyed I was at your anonymous letter. You quite sure it was Patterson?

Yeah, I know it was. But don’t worry. She’s gonna pay for it.

If anything, Bobby’s understating things greatly here. No character - or combination of characters - has suffered more soakings and general humiliation than Alison has in recent episodes.

The trend began in the penultimate episode of the first season when Lance and Martin laid out a fake treasure hunt that led her to a muddy payback for mistreating Lance:

Then, after she made a snide comment to Carly who was on her way home, Episode 234 had an explicit callback to the Pilot episode. In case the shot-for-shot similarity was too subtle, Pippa directly referenced the previous event in dialogue as she gave Alison her next soaking:

When we were bringing Bobby back from the city after she’d run away, Tom saw Mr Fisher standing by the road, so he swerved into a puddle [she swerves the car into a puddle, drenching Alison] Quite by accident, of course.

Just two episodes later, we got Summer Bay’s answer to the lily pond when Bobby dragged Alison into the ocean and held her head under to “convince” Alison that Carly was an alcoholic, not a drug addict:

And three episodes on from that, we had Roo confronting Alison on a jetty about the letter to Alf. Even though Alison was innocent on that occasion, Roo couldn’t resist chucking her ice cream cornet, throwing Alison off balance:

After all the drenching and near drowning, the jetty scene had the reveal that Alison can’t swim. Adding insult to injury, Roo simply told her to stand up, revealing that Alison had landed in waist-deep water.

Alison’s screen time has been creeping up and up as the months have gone on. I enjoy her as an antagonist, because she’s so unlikeable and shrewish. I know that her time on the series is heading to a close, so perhaps all the soakings are to give a satisfying kind of comeuppance after all the bile. I’m also curious to know if she’s given a proper exit from the series.


Incidentally, with the current episodes having their first UK airing in January 1990, we’re fast approaching a 30th anniversary tie-in of episodes. I’m more excited than I should be wondering which episode I will re-watch exactly three decades to the day of the first time I viewed it.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 241-243


Three episodes - around an hour of screen time - have changed the Home and Away landscape dramatically and irrevocably.

What’s more, it’s been done in an expansive way. There’s an incredible amount of backstory in these episodes. Flashbacks to numerous different eras - from the early Fifties through to just a few months ago - have been but the beginning of filling in gaps. The dialogue has told us new information about characters’ histories. Things we have been curious about, and things we didn’t even know we wanted answers to. No stone has been left unturned, and one character’s history dovetails with another’s to tie them together in a way that’s unexpected and delightfully incestuous.

Take our first stop: 1985. We knew that Martha had died three years before the series began. And we knew that the Stewarts lived at Summer Bay House at that time. But we hadn’t seen it with our own eyes. Until now. The fact that we arrive there immediately after Martha’s funeral takes on a new poignance considering we’ve recently “met” Martha through flashbacks.

She’s gone, Ruthie. It’s just the two of us now. I keep expecting her to walk through that door, telling us it’s some nightmare we dreamed up.

Justine Clark pitches up her voice enough to convince us she’s fourteen years old, and the sepia does the rest, as Roo tells Alf she’s found her Mum’s diaries.

In real time, Alf tells us he couldn’t face looking at them and put them away. And forgot about them until he met Ailsa. And that’s when the dialogue, rather than flashbacks, transports us back to an earlier time:

You’d only been in the bay for a couple of months, an’ already we’d started to get pretty friendly… I guess I got a huge attack of the guilts… I reached for the diaries to get some sorta line… on what Martha woulda thought about it, ya know? Me bein’ with someone else.

And that’s when you found out about Bobby.

Flashbacks can be a little jarring. At the very least, there’s a possibility that the viewer will find the new world presented so novel that it will remove subjectivity, leaving the viewer to watch with amused detachment. The structure of these episodes very carefully finds a way around this by involving the present as much as possible. The dialogue leading up to it creates an intimacy that allows the audience to “meet” these characters from earlier times through the eyes of the character who is being told the story.

A great example of this would be Alf telling Ailsa about Bobby’s mother while they’re seated on their sofa at home:

This woman was pretty career minded… Her husband had to have the right professional status… He was an agreeable enough sorta bloke. He even brought out a warmer side in her that not too many people’d ever seen. She even talked about havin’ a family an’ kids… An’ then the roof caved in. They found out that he couldn’t have kids. Well, she took it pretty hard. She went right off the rails for a time. He was out of town an’ one night she had some drinks with this fella an’ they ended up between the sheets. Now, I’m not sure who that fella was… In the circles she moved, an illegitimate kid wasn’t the right thing to have around. That’s where Martha came into it. Martha an’ her were real close… She was pregnant herself with Roo.

As Alf mentions Martha, so begins a sepia flashback to 1970 as Martha arrives to meet “Bugsy” (an affectionate sobriquet that Martha gave her, we learn. Because Bugsy’s glasses gave her a bug-eyed appearance). Present day Alf’s voiceover continues for a further twenty seconds over the scene, allowing the viewer to be gently taken into that world while keeping one foot in the familiar. And bugger me if Bobby’s Mum isn’t Olive from On The Buses.

And at the end of the sequence in which Martha told Bugsy she’d make arrangements for the baby to go to a good home with an old schoolfriend, present day Alf picks up again as we’re taken back to the continuing conversation in the living room. Only now both are standing, Ailsa emerging from the kitchen with mugs of hot drinks for them both. And she does seem like the kind who wouldn’t sit still for a flashback.

Ailsa questions why Martha would arrange for the baby to go to a creep like Al Simpson, and we get more history through dialogue, this time regarding Bobby’s adoptive family:

Ah, well, he was all right back then… Martha thought he musta been OK because Doris was so rapt in him. While… the money was flowin’ everything was rosy. But when Martha died all that changed. Doris and Al were stuck. They had no idea where the money had been comin’ from… He started to look for other ways of makin’ a fast buck an’ he blew all their money on the nags. Then he got involved in small-time rackets. Mainly just credit card fraud… He got caught an’ that left poor Doris on her own to bring up Bobby. She never was a very strong woman at the best of times an’ that sorta life just wore her down. I reckon you can blame most of the cancer she died from on that idiot husband o’ hers.

When you asked me, very early on when I first came to the Bay, whether I’d take a special interest in Bobby. That was when you read Martha’s diary, wasn’t it?

Yeah. Well, I woulda taken her myself only I had my hands full with Roo.

Thank God somebody’s conscience was pricked.

Yeah, well. It’s a bit easier when you got a vested interest… When her real mother is a member of your own family.

Bugsy. It’s Morag, isn’t it?

Judy Nunn and Ray Meagher are just fantastic at selling this material. Meagher is almost offhand with it all, making it seem relatable. And thanks to Judy Nunn you can really see the wheels turn over in Ailsa’s mind as she takes on the information and puts the pieces together.

Alf nods grimly, and the secret is a secret no longer. Bobby’s mother is disclosed at the end of the first act of Episode 241. And the route to get there was so tortuous - and so satisfying even without the reveal - I’d almost forgotten this is the reason we started digging in the first place.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 241-243 (...continued)

That little tramp? My daughter?! The whole idea’s absurd!

Appropriately, our first sight of Cornelia Frances on Morag’s triumphant return to the series appears in a dissolve from a shot of Bobby with her stylish new pageboy cut. We find Morag and her pruning shears giving the plants short shrift in some kind of courtyard (I assume it’s meant to be outdoors, but it feels very much indoors). And equally appropriately, given the current series trend, the first lines we hear Morag spit are part of a flashback set presumably a couple of months earlier, as her mind wanders back to the day Alf confronted her in the same courtyard with his knowledge about Bobby:

The last thing I need with my workload is becoming embroiled in something that happened eighteen years ago.

You an’ your precious career. That’s why you gave Bobby up in the first place, wasn’t it?

That is why I gave my baby up, yes. And it was the right decision. But to suggest that that horrid little urchin is the same child… is utterly preposterous. I owe that child nothing.

There have been a number of Alf/Morag clashes in these episodes.There’s no mistaking they’ve both inherited the same stubborn Stewart genes. Each takes turns to drill their eyes into the back of the other’s head. Or to pull themselves up to tower over the other, chest puffed, nostrils flaring. Sometimes they’re even in sync.

The fake-looking courtyard setting, the revelations, the crisp dialogue, the raised voices and assertive delivery make it feel very upmarket play-like. Part Private Lives, part The Norman Conquests, part EastEnders two-hander.

Morag's disdain for her offspring paired with Alf's disgust towards Morag's detached coldness also evokes early Sons and Daughters, where Patricia learnt that Scott was the son she'd abandoned in exchange for security with a rich husband. In fact this whole storyline is the most Sons and Daughters-ish Home and Away has been. I thought so thirty years ago and if anything I feel it even more today. If Patricia had already been married to Gordon when David got her pregnant, this is what we may well have got.

And here we get to meet the rich husband, Richard. An agreeable kind of chap with whom Morag doesn’t seem to agree on very much at all.

Morag’s daughter-who-doesn’t-know-she’s-her-daughter, meanwhile, is in a good place. I don’t know if it’s the approaching wedding or the haircut, but she seems impossible to upset these days. The Bobby of old - or very recently - would have had a few things to say about Celia Stewart bringing her a King James Bible. But not Bobby ‘89:

I could always return it and buy you a casserole or something… I thought you mightn’t appreciate- - Oh, I mean you mightn’t like it.

No, I like it very much… It’s beautiful.

There’s a family tree here in the front… Here is where you put all the names of your children… And here is where you put the names of your parents. Oh. Oh. I’m sorry. Uh, what a silly thing to say. I just wasn’t thinking.

Don’t worry about it. It’s a beautiful present. We’ll treasure it.

She even gives Celia a peck on the cheek. She’s grace itself.

Carly, too, is greeted with the same sunny disposition when, after looking at Bobby’s wedding dress (I love that these former enemies are sharing these moments), she has an attack of the drama queens:

I think I should pull out [of being bridesmaid]. They’ll all be looking at me wondering whether I’ve been drinking or not. Waiting for me to trip over. Probably will, I’ll be so nervous.

You’ll be nervous. What about me?

Yeah, but it won’t be you they’ll be looking at.

Yeah, you’re right. Why look at me, the town derro… Marrying the best looking guy in Summer Bay. Who’d even give me a second glance when there’s Carly Morris to look at.

The words aren’t dissimilar to what Bobby would have said to Carly a while back, but this time there’s an absence of anger or blame or victim status. She calmly and smilingly floats out the words and lets Carly absorb them. And it works. There’s a bit of kick-arse in there when she forces Carly to change out of the salmon dressing gown in which she’s spent the last ten episodes (a relief for us all). But there’s humour, too. There’s a cracking scene in which they both try to claim the dining table for their own purposes, with a back and forth of several “rack off”s. Then they both end up laughing, which is incredibly endearing.

And it ends with an invitation:

How about we burn off the aggro and go on the town. You know, a hen’s night. We’ll pick up Narelle and go raging… Narelle ’n’ me’ll slap your wrist every time you start getting pangs.

We’ll never see Narelle again, but I’ll take a name check or two. There’s even a secondhand story about the three of them getting chucked out of a male strip joint for being too noisy.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 241-243 (...continued)


Comeuppance is still the order of the day for Alison, as her plan to put itching powder in Bobby’s wedding dress is foiled as she tries to climb into her bedroom window with Roo as her accomplice:

I think they’re onto us.

I know. Someone told them. It must’ve been me.

This time Alison stays dry, but she’s forced to pour the itching powder inside her own clothes instead. Don’t mess with Summer Bay.

Incidentally (and presumably to warrant such a nasty fate), Alison had this to say about Sally:

Such a pain, that kid. Should’ve been strangled at birth… Horrible little squirt.

Meanwhile, on the morning of the wedding there’s some nice dramatic juxtaposing between the fantasy and the reality. Bobby speaks to Frank about the dream she had while staying at Narelle’s the night before:

I was walking down the aisle with Tom... An’ then this woman - couldn’t see her face; well, at least I couldn’t remember it after I woke up - …taps him on the shoulder an’ says “I’m the one who should be giving Bobby away.” An’ takes over. So there I was, standing next to my own Mum on my wedding day.

In between Frank and Bobby’s chat on the sofa there are cutaways. Each time, Bobby and Frank’s conversation is put on hold and resumes after we’ve seen each of the various shots: a seaplane flying through the sky; floating across the water; the ground crew securing the plane; the propellors stopping; the door opening. Finally, we see someone emerge:

Mother’s home.




Nothing goes unnoticed in Summer Bay. Alf and Ailsa quickly learn from Celia that Doris Peters spotted Morag disembarking from the seaplane, warning them to her arrival at this significant time. Alf finds Morag on the beach, where she’s been indulging in a flashback to her childhood with sister Celia:

There’s more Stewart greatness as Alf and Morag traipse the beach angrily:

I came here to prove to myself that I can watch that girl get married and not feel a thing… I don’t give a damn. It’s ancient history. That girl means nothing to me…

I’ll just slip in quietly after the ceremony’s started. They’ll all be too busy looking at the “blushing bride” anyway. Although “blushing”’s hardly an appropriate word, from what I hear… Then, when it’s over I’ll just slip quietly out again and hopefully never set eyes on that wretched girl again.

Morag’s ushered to Alf’s house, where she proves that Bobby isn’t the only person on her agenda:

I can’t say I’m thankful to Alfred for telling you the sordid history… I suppose I should be grateful to you for being discreet about it.

What did you expect me to do? Announce it to the world?

Oh, I thought you might have made a bit of capital out of it, yes… Oh, I brought you a present [she throws it on the table without looking at Ailsa]. For the baby. Well, I had to have an official reason for coming here. I hope you don’t think it’s a token of my approval, though… Not only do you encumber Alfred with this ridiculous marriage, it’s now entirely possible you’re going to land him up with a disabled child.

If something does go wrong. And if, by some chance, I do happen to have a disabled child, at least I’ll love it. And care for it. And see it through life. Unlike you. Thank you very much for the present. I’ll make sure everybody knows that’s why you came to town.

I especially love the moment where Morag plops the present onto the table. She couldn’t have made it seem like more of an afterthought if she’d tried (and I’m sure she did).

The wedding ceremony arrives and there’s definite déjà vu in the air for anyone familiar with #104. Same church. Same guests. Same groom. Even the original bride is present, smiling weakly at her successor while trying to keep her dignity.

Frank throws out Steven’s scholarly speech effort and opts to freeform instead:

I had something written here, but it’s not really what I want to say. All I wanna say is that I love you, I honour you, and I always will. Just can’t believe that I’d be lucky enough for you to wanna marry me.

How can I top that? All I want to say is, it goes double for me.

It’s so Frank and Bobby. There’s the full ceremony followed by a montage made up of various wedding and reception snaps (in a nice touch, even Roo can be seen joining in the conga). But the key event at the wedding is apparently unseen by anyone else when a mystery guest arrives:

In no time, she leaves just as quickly, but with her upper lip less stiff:

It’s all wonderfully frothy. Corny’s soap heritage shines from her and it’s a wonderful thing to see when given such addictively soapy material.

I especially appreciated the slight Dutch angle as Morag left the church. It was a subtle callback to similar shots at Roo and Frank’s wedding which then acted as an omen that signalled doom. Immediately after that wedding, Frank was involved in an accident with nearly fatal consequences. But does lightning strike twice?

 

[Mel O'Drama]

with the current episodes having their first UK airing in January 1990, we’re fast approaching a 30th anniversary tie-in of episodes. I’m more excited than I should be wondering which episode I will re-watch exactly three decades to the day of the first time I viewed it.

All being well, there’ll be more than one episode which I rewatch exactly thirty years to the day of the first time I viewed them.



First up…

Episode 244


Originally watched: 22nd January 1990
Rewatched: 22nd January 2020

Just can’t take it in yet. I just can’t believe it. Believe it’s her. That she is really my mother.

With this being the episode In Which Bobby Learns Her Mother’s Identity, I’m glad that such a serendipitous alignment of dates includes a milestone moment. It’s not a perfect episode by any means, but it’s a storyline I remember being very invested in back then and so this episode was heavily anticipated.

Just for the record, the first time I watched I think I already knew the identity of Bobby’s biological parents before it was revealed in recent episodes. I certainly knew who her mother was. This came from the tie-in novelisations of the time, though I can’t remember if it was from The Bobby Simpson Story or one of the more standard translations.

Taking place immediately after the wedding, we initially find characters arriving home still in their whistles. Bobby’s still wearing her wedding dress as she and Frank arrive back at the flat and uncork the champers left by Phil. There’s a gooey teen romance undercurrent, but it feels surprisingly ordinary despite it being their wedding day. They’re both conscious that they’re about to have sex, which will be their first time. At least their first times in this particular pairing:

I wish that I hadn’t thrown it away. You know what I mean? I’m getting embarrassed. It’s the one thing I wish was different now.

Anyhow, Frank assures her it’s not a problem. Not that he'd have much room to talk it if were.


Scenes at the Stewarts are also fairly prosaic. They, too, are still in wedding attire and speaking whimsically about the wedding, with Celia plotzing at the fact that Tom and Pippa said it would be inappropriate for her to sing How Great Though Art to the couple.

Even in these scenes, there are small flashes that allude to ongoing dramas: Roo is visibly bittersweet about Frank’s marriage, even though she keeps forcing herself to say nice things about the wedding. She also comments that she has to deal with Martin who has the hots for her, and hopes she can do so without hurting his feelings. As it turns out, she doesn’t have to do anything but show up, because Martin’s at his most sensitive:

Roo, I know what you’re going to say… You see I’m not always as stupid as I look… I know where I stand and I know how you see me. And I don’t blame you. You think I’m a bit of a clown, really… Well, look: thanks for breaking it to me so gently, OK?

Since Martin was the gentleman by taking Roo to her prom, I’ve found myself wondering if these two could actually work as a couple. With Roo’s new nice persona and Martin’s recent attempts to change, could they actually become compatible as they meet somewhere on middle ground. They look good together, certainly. And each brings out good things in one another. They’re careful with one another as though they want only the best. And I find that chemistry interesting (or at least as interesting as I can find any Martin scene).


In reminders of other drama, Celia spots the present from Morag and, realising she’s been in Summer Bay wonders why she chose this day to come, and why Alf and Ailsa vehemently denied it was Morag on the seaplane.

A note is pushed under the Stewarts’ door, panicking Ailsa after the recent poison pen letters (it turns out to be a flyer from Celia’s store).

After Roo leaves, Alf goes to change out of his “bag of fruit”, leaving Celia preparing to trill words of praise:

I want to say one thing, Ailsa. I think that Bobby’s justified all the faith you put in her. I sometimes think you’re more far-sighted than the rest of us.

At this moment the phone jangles, Ailsa answers and dramatic John Carpenteresque music begins playing, cueing in the episode’s real drama:

The seaplane’s gone down. Morag was on board. They’ve taken her to the hospital.

So lighting does strike twice. After Frank's last wedding, Frank himself fled St James's church and was involved in a dramatic crash. This time round Morag has followed in his footsteps. In every sense.

continued...
​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episode 244 (...continued)


As Act Two opens, the three arrive at Morag’s hospital room where she’s surrounded by machinery and semi-conscious, muttering feverishly:

She’s calling someone. It sounds a bit like Barbara… Why would she be calling Barbara?

In the waiting room, Alf sends Celia to try phoning Richard again so he can speak to Ailsa.

Ailse, I’m tired of carryin’ this flamin’ secret round. I’m gonna get Bobby. OK, it’s on my head, all right?

As I said, this is not a perfect episode. There’s tedium interspersed between the high drama, mostly featuring Lance, Martin, Matt and Alison - and various combinations thereof - hanging round the diner, with Lance working on his new song, Wedding Night Blues.

Even these dull scenes are utilised in some small way to move things forward. It’s mentioned that Frank and Bobby aren’t going away for their honeymoon as they can’t afford to (a titbit which seems to give Alison a sneaky idea). And on the beach, Matt emerges from the surf having heard a less subjective version of Morag’s accident:

Guy over there just told me the seaplane went down… Hit a flock of seagulls on takeoff. Went down in the sandhills. Ah, nobody was hurt much. Except one lady. She panicked and undid her seat belt… She’s in hospital.

Something about this small scene makes Morag’s situation feel a little more exciting. Perhaps because it gives it more relatability. The viewer is far more likely to have been in Matt’s situation than Alf, Celia and Ailsa’s. It’s meaningless chatter about local goings on, relating to faceless individuals. Rather brilliantly, the soapy impetus is kept going by having someone who is directly affected by the crash walking in the distant background as Matt tells Alison the gossip.

Roo, still unaware of the situation, walks up to Matt only after the subject has changed. And with Matt not knowing who the "lady" in question is there's no reason for him to mention it to her. So she remains oblivious for several more minutes, until she and Matt arrive back at the Stewarts’ discussing their non-romances with Martin and Alison. And then Roo spots the note that’s been left about Morag’s hospitalisation.

The way news gets round has been carefully done in this episode. Which makes one glaring omission in this department seem particularly unforgivable. This is a huge secret and it’s both exciting and satisfying to see various characters discover the truth about Bobby and Morag. We’ve seen Ailsa work it out.

Roo’s discovery of the note then cuts to her reaction to the news:

Her mother? Bobby’s mother? …Just seems all wrong. Auntie Morag?!

Well these things do happen love. Girls do get pregnant as we well know. An’ because it was Morag she wanted to make sure it was kept a secret. An’ that’s the way it’s gotta stay, OK?

We also see Celia hearing the news:

What’s Bobby doing here. I thought it was just family.

She is family.

What on earth are you talking about?

Gee, you’re slow, Sis. You’re half a week behind. That’s her mother in there.

And later she gives her frank appraisal of the situation:

I think it’s typical of Morag to have a baby and then abandon it like that… Morag could always find money, but she couldn’t find any love or any concern. Or care about anyone’s wellbeing but her own.

But as for Bobby herself... she arrives at the hospital already privileged with knowledge:

Bobby?

It’s OK. Alf told me the lot.

You all right?

Yeah. No problem.

I’m curious about the reason for Anne Brooksbank’s choice in writing it this way. It’s certainly unexpected, but it also feels like a huge anti-climax. After months of Bobby’s quest to find her mother, she finally discovers the truth off-screen.

We do at least get some scenes of Bobby standing over Morag’s bed, thinking and talking about the situation:

I’ve always had this kind of fantasy, and I could never get rid of it. Had this feeling that if I ever found my mother she’d be really glad to see me. An’ she’d be sorry about all the times we’d missed together… Now, it’s her.

With Morag slipping into a coma, she needs neurosurgery. Naturally, Philip is at the centre of it in his white coat. Yet another special interest of his (OK - it's established that he's not the actual neurosurgeon. But Philip still embodies that comically annoying soap trope of the resident medic being involved in every medical drama, no matter what the ailment).


And the episode ends with a promising vow:

She mustn’t die… I wanna tell that woman how much I hate her.

So, a classic episode. But the choice of Bobby learning the truth offscreen is still one with which I disagree. How did Alf tell her? How did she react? Was she still wearing her wedding dress (I like to think she was)? And did she and Frank go all the way, or did Alf's arrival mean a bad case of soapus interruptus.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

And the second 30th Anniversary rewatch:


Episode 245

Originally watched: 23rd January 1990
Rewatched: 23rd January 2020

Guess this sort of makes us cousins.

This simple line to Bobby, in a moment of reaching out at the hospital, nicely understates some of the changes that the recent revelation have made to relationships on the series. As Bobby says in reply, they are cousins. And while nobody’s said it out loud, it also means that Alf is Bobby’s uncle, Celia and Barbara her aunts. And Alan Fisher her cousin. It’s a little mind blowing already. And we haven’t yet even factored in Bobby’s biological father.

Bobby attends her first new family gathering by accepting Celia’s invitation back to Alf’s, where she asks everyone to keep a lid on the news. Even from Tom and Pippa. She wants to tell Morag what she really thinks of her, and then she doesn’t care what happens.

But Bobby. No matter how she’s treated you, she is your mother.

With Celia’s evident fussing, Bobby leaves. And this is an aspect that works really well for me. Because even before the truth was out, Celia was singing Bobby’s praises to Ailsa. And in light of the news Celia has come down firmly on Bobby’s side. But Bobby isn’t privy to Celia’s most supportive comments. Which casts an interesting light on things. It’s to Alf that Celia shares her thoughts:

That poor child. On her wedding night, to be going through all this. It’s dreadful.

and

So now we know the price of Morag’s career… I simply can’t find it within myself to forgive a woman who so callously rejected her own flesh and blood… And now we see the legacy: a mother and a daughter who hate each other. It’s unnatural. Honestly, when I think of that woman giving away her own child it makes me sick in the stomach.

Now this is where the writing comes into its own by layering and having resonance from previous stories. And so it is that Roo picks up on Celia’s comments and naturally thinks of the daughter she had adopted.

And while Celia, in her annoyance towards Morag, remains oblivious, Alf is also too aware of where Roo’s mind is and the two have a conversation about it.

Look, love; don’t take too seriously that business she was sayin’ about giving away a kid. She’s got no idea of the realties of the world.

Haven’t got much of a track record, have we? The Stewarts. Auntie Morag gave her baby away. Auntie Celia wanted to have one but never did. And I gave up mine for adoption.

Yeah, well… Martha and I gave birth to the best little kid the Stewart clan had ever seen. I reckon that about squares the account. Don’t you?

Later, Alf finds Roo reading stuff she’d written when she was expecting Martha.

I was pretty mixed up, wasn’t I?

You were also pretty young.

So was Auntie Morag. I can really understand what she did. Bobby really hates her.

Celia’s right about some things. It’s pretty hard to blame her for that.

That’s what frightens me. What if the same thing happens with my daughter? What if she grows up hating me?

It’s a question to which there is no easy answer and this is recognised. I like that the question is simply floated out and allowed to hover over the show.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episode 245 (...continued)


As with the previous episode, there’s a little filler. Some good. Some not so good.

The not so good involves some beige business with Philip - in the wake of Morag’s operation - having another crisis around losing his career of being a surgeon. He comes to the soulless Macklin office to speak to Stacey only to find she’s not alone.

This leads to a blow up between Stacey and Nicholas. And yet another conversation between Phil and Stacey. I struggle to stay awake during their scenes, but they seem to have made headway. Until the next time.

But there are also terrific examples of smaller moments that make this series wonderful. At Summer Bay House, the cleanup is just finishing, and as others have throughout the evening, Floss waxes nostalgic about the bride (and the Pilot episode):

Gee, when I think how far young Bobby’s come since that time we ‘id her in the caravan. You remember, Pippa? The day you come ‘ere first?

Still brimming with nostalgia, she and Nev reminisce to Pippa and Steven about their circus days over cups of tea and wedding cake. With everyone still in their wedding finery, they talk about some weddings they attended in those days:

There was the one where Maria Galetini of the Flying Galetinis nearly got married to that other trapeze fella Franco. Just as ‘e was swingin’ across for the “I do”, he missed ‘is timin’ an’ took a tumble.

She reckoned he did it deliberately.

Called it off then and there. Finished up marryin’ Hans the lion tamer.

And they took their vows right there in the lions’ cage.

With the lions in there watchin’.

It’s a really lovely little scene. Warm and cosy and full of life. It's nice to see Floss and Nev get a little screen time. But even here, pipe is being carefully laid. Steven mentions seeing a billboard that there’s a circus coming to Yabbie Creek, and Floss gets excited.

No you don’t, Floss. We promised each other when we retired that we’d keep at least five miles between us and the nearest circus.

But the seed is sown.




I wonder how far the school is from Donald’s house. The scene at the top of this episode - in which Donald catches Alison leaving the school grounds during the holidays- suggest that he’s spotted her and strolled over to confront her. Either that or someone else has and alerted him.

I suppose you thought you’d slipped through unnoticed.

Having pilfered some chemicals from the school lab, Alison bluffs Donald by saying she was taking a shortcut and asking him to look inside her bag. I can’t help wondering if the Donald Fisher of a year earlier would have done just that, but today’s Donald seems to know doing so would be playing into her hands. And so she’s on her way.

Alison creeps into Frank’s flat (now Frank and Bobby’s flat) with the intention of setting off a stink bomb. But she’s is forced to hide in the kitchen when the newlyweds return. Which works out well for her when she overhears the conversation that follows:

I’m gonna hate tomorrow. I’m gonna wake up thinking it was all a dream and realise it wasn’t. That Mrs High Court Judge Morag Lousy Bellingham really is my Mum.

Creating a bigger stink than the chemicals is the note Alison leaves:

Guess who got a brand new Mum for a wedding present.

After a visit to the hospital to confirm Morag is there, Alison is straight on the phone to the press.

There’s something a little off about Alison being important enough to get the freeze frame after such a significantly eventful night. But there’s the sense that this is going somewhere and will lead to even bigger crises for the regulars. Which is a good thing.

What I especially love about the past couple of episodes is that they’re set over one evening. It’s still the night of Bobby and Frank’s wedding. The same day that began in the last third of Episode 242. So that’s over three complete episodes spent on just one day - a pace I associate with American daytime soap.

Even though they’re set entirely at night and covering just a short duration with a “real time” tone, these episodes still have the usual Home and Away vibe. But it feels luxurious to have so much time for character. It’s something that would be easy to overlook. It’s possible it only jumped out at me since I’ve taken a little more time with the last couple. And it’s perhaps another reason why these episodes around the reveal have felt extra special.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episode 246



Originally watched: 24th January 1990
Rewatched: 24th January 2020

It’s true. About the sins of one’s past coming back to haunt one. Only it’s haunting all of us.

The Stewart clan are closing ranks with the decision to keep Morag’s dark secret under wraps. Denial and stoicism are the orders of the day. But coming under scrutiny from outside forces is putting them to the test.

First to be tested is Celia.

The Daily Star… Sensationalism. That’s all they’re in it for. Never let the truth get in the way of a good story

Weasly journo James Donahue - AKA Sons and Daughters’ Alan Brandon - sums up his newspaper to Celia and in so doing tells us exactly what kind of reputation he has (though it’s patently obvious).

True to her word, Celia has done all she can to keep Bobby’s secret. She is plainly flustered when she realises she’s speaking to a reporter and asserts herself.

I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to talk about it… You’ll have to find someone else to talk to.

She even goes as far as walking away and turning her back on him, and is visibly under pressure and trying to find a way out.

James’s response is to apply more pressure. His above description of the Daily Star is made under the pretence of being from a more upmarket rival publication which wants to be more respectable in their report.

This business about your sister abandoning her baby, for instance… I was hoping to try to talk to you. Get the other side of the story. Redress the balance a bit.

Celia’s justification for past gossiping has frequently been that she was thinking of someone’s best interests, or almost providing a service. These scenes of the process leading up to Celia relenting and discussing something after being convinced it was for the good made me feel part of that process. I felt empathy for Celia’s decision and could truly understand why she made the choice she did. Celia’s gossipy side is frequently the source of cartoony fun in the series, but this sequence added a layer to her. I could probably look back at other instances of Celia’s damaging gossip and see the same processes implicitly present.

While Celia was trying to physically get away from Donahue, it came across strongly that she is uncomfortable because she simply cannot look him in the eye and lie. Which gave me food for thought around Celia’s gossip. There probably are times when it would not occur to her not to discuss something because she tries to speak the truth all the time - often without any kind of filter for diplomacy that others might use out of social grace. In other words, it’s in Celia’s nature to gossip because she is wholeheartedly congruent.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this, or being too generous. After all, Celia’s very good at speaking about other people’s stuff while keeping facets of herself hidden. But such things are hidden from her as well. The things - such as Les - she doesn’t allow herself to think about very often. What she sees, she speaks. And this scene made it apparent that she is trying to be incongruent even though it goes against her nature, because she desperately doesn’t want to do more harm. And when she fails in her fight, that too is because she thinks this way will repair the damage she is told has been done.

When Celia realises she’s been duped, it’s time to call in Alf. And we learn a little fact about Alf’s weekly routine. Something I don’t remember being told before:

He’s playing golf with Charlie Griffiths. They play golf every week without fail… They always stay on to have coffee at the clubhouse.

Alf is eventually tracked down and returns in full-on bluster mode. He warns Celia he’ll get to her in a minute. But it’s Donahue he’s got in his sights:

I got somethin’ to say to you, Clark Kent. We don’t appreciate grubs like you buttin’ into our family business. So you got two choices: you either get the hell outta here or I knock your block off.

It’s all for nought, and Donahue leaves with his block intact and his dictaphone full of juice.

Incidentally, the outdoor scenes in this episode feature a lot of face brushing action from the actors, and mosquitos, flies or some such bugs can clearly be seen swarming over clothing - particularly Donahue’s pink shirt. Somehow it seems appropriate for his character to be covered in flies. But I felt quite itchy watching.

Celia is concerned about the difficulties the situation will cause in the family, but Alf knows which way it will be weighted:

Morag’ll cop the brunt of it… Here’s Morag, a High Court Judge who illegally adopts out an illegitimate child while she’s a qualified barrister. Whaddaya reckon her colleagues are gonna think of that, eh? An’ that’s leavin’ out her marriage. I don’t think Richard’s gonna be exactly jumping up an’ down for joy when he finds out what she’s done. Do you? One thing’s for sure: she’s gonna wake up to a very, very different lifestyle.

And, as if on cue, Morag does indeed wake up to find Dr Phil (who else) standing over her.

Welcome back

Now, we’ve discussed Cornelia Frances’s penchant for bandage acting over on the Sons and Daughters thread. We’re entering a glorious new age of wonderful bandage acting here. Mummified and makeup-less Corny looks confused, slurs with magnificent sluggishness and still gives us a sense of the sharp barrister’s mind at work underneath as - oblivious that the secret is out - she immediately works on keeping her story straight while barely conscious enough to speak clearly:

My husband thinks I’m at a conference. I just wanted to visit Alf. ’N' Ailsa. ‘Gratulate her on her pregn’cy.

Phil speaks to Alf, says “pacifically” instead of “specifically”, and instructs contact with Morag to be kept minimal.

She knows about the plane coming down. That’s all. The last thing she needs at this stage is to know the rest.

Alf agrees it’s for the best, and heads off to track down Richard at the Tennyson Heights resort. But Richard won't be Morag's first visitor. Not by any means.

continued...
​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episode 246 (...continued)



The Matt Effect is in full force this episode. He is unhappy that Alison has caused so much trouble and makes it clear he doesn’t want to be around her. In response, Alison has a change of heart and even goes so far as to speak to Donahue about it. Again, with little effect:

Do you know what a headline like “High Court Judge Flees Love Child’s Wedding” is worth in circulation? Twenty thousand, minimum. And you want me to ditch it just so ya pimply-faced boyfriend won’t dump you? Now that’s funny.

Alison’s change of heart felt familiar, and I realised there are echoes of Carly rapidly coming to accept Tom being on the road gang. Then, as now, it was down to Matt’s disapproval of her words and actions. Alison even spouts sentiments that are uncannily similar to those spoken by Carly very recently:

Please Matt. I’ll change. I promise.

As with Carly, Matt’s not having any of it. And Bobby decides it’s time for Matt to properly bring Alison down to size:

She’s all yours… Tell ‘er, Matt.

You’ve been set up. You didn’t think that I wanted to go out with you, did you? I only ever went out with you for a laugh.

You see, a few of us got together an’ decided who the biggest dog in Summer Bay was.

And guess who romped it in?

They dared me to see how long I could go out with you. Talk about the pits… You ought to see yourself, Alison. The pettiest, meanest, nastiest. You’re just pathetic.

Matt dumping Carly was a little on the harsh side, but this is one of the cruellest things I’ve seen a character do on the series. Mostly because of how coldly manipulative it seems, and how much groundwork went into it. But also because it’s a completely unemotional decision. Matt’s someone who’s uninvolved. Yes, Alison is bitchy and has stirred up a lot of trouble for many people over her whole time on the series. But I don’t believe she’s ever crossed Matt. His willing participation in this scheme, culminating in someone’s public humiliation, and the matter of fact way he brutalises someone’s feelings makes him seem very small and ugly indeed. Some might say sociopathic. It’s probably not helped by Greg Benson’s range. Matt seems as detached as ever during this scene. And conversely, kind of into it at the same time.

Outside the diner, Matt says:

I know she’s a slag, but, still pretty cruel in there.

Frank smilingly agrees. But it feels very perfunctory. One gets the sense that the words are being said to salve their own consciences rather than out of genuine remorse. Because it’s what good people say after screwing someone over so badly. Equally, it’s easy to believe they’d do the same again tomorrow, and have the same conversation afterwards. Like the Catholic who ends up confessing to the same thing over and over. Because that’s the right thing to do.


Earlier on, Bobby found herself brooding over the missing piece of the puzzle:

Wonder what me Dad’s doin’ right now. Probably dead.

I love you heaps, you know?

Masochist.

Leaving the diner in the wake of the Alison witch burning, Bobby makes a sudden decision:

There’s something I want to do. Seeya later.

And we cut immediately to the hospital...

Hello, mother dear.

Despite it going from Bobby dashing off to do “something” straight to the hospital, I must confess the reveal of Bobby standing there surprised me. Because I'd misremembered it and thought Morag’s actual visitor would be Bobby’s father. So when that shadow fell onto Morag's bed I was faked out… in the best way possible.


There’s electricity in the air. I expect big things from the next episode.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episode 247



Originally watched: 25th January 1990
Rewatched: 25th January 2020

You know I used to think what my daughter would be like. All the time you were growing up, I wanted her to be exactly like you. You were the daughter I always wanted.

Morag’s fantasy vision of her ideal daughter is the perfect reflection of Bobby’s equally idealistic dream of her mother, which she described to Frank just a day or so earlier. It’s too bad for Bobby that Morag’s words were spoken to her niece, Roo, rather than to Bobby herself. The relationship between Bobby and Morag, conversely, is as contemptuous as it gets. As can be seen when we join them:

Gee. You don’t sound exactly rapt to see me, Mumsie. Anybody’d think you were ashamed of me or somethin’.

Stop it. I am not your mother. We have absolutely nothing in common and we never will… I don’t even know you.

Roo’s role in the triad is part mediator, part rescuer. Trying to defuse the situation, she removes Bobby from the room. Having seen these two go at it hammer and tong before now, I appreciated the feeling that they both hold back in this situation, each trying to respect the fragile understanding they’ve reached. Roo in particular goes for a sandwich approach, by squeezing a warning in between two statements that are filled with empathy:

I don’t want things to be like they used to with us. I really don’t. But I’m warning you: if you hurt her I’ll never forgive you. Be fair, Bobby. It couldn’t have been easy for her. You don’t know what it’s like giving up a baby. It hurts. It really does.

Bobby can’t resist one last blast before leaving, and gives Morag a potted history of the years she missed:

I couldn’t help your circumstances. I didn’t know what they were.

Well, Mum didn’t last long. She got cancer. An’ that just left Dad ’n’ me. An’ that was heaps of fun. When he wasn’t in gaol he was bashing me up. Not that I minded. Because it was the only time he ever paid any attention to me…

Well, that’s all over now.

Oh no. Not for you. Because you’re the one who did it an’ that makes you the scum. Everything about you stinks… You should have died in that accident. You deserve to.

I found it interesting that Roo allowed it and resisted following Bobby back in, despite Morag being too frail to do much more than lie there and listen to it. It’s as though Roo’s come to know Bobby so well that she understood this was inevitable and so she let it play out.

After Bobby’s exit, Roo is the loyal niece. There are echoes of the understanding they shared back around the time of Roo’s planned wedding, and this time their bond is deepened by Roo’s experiences since that time and her changed outlook:

Oh, I know for a moment there I got a bit carried away with all the wedding and, well, it was just a matter of curiosity. And I can understand how she feels resentful towards me. But that is no excuse for the rudeness she displayed.

She had no right to hurt you. She’s never had a baby. She doesn’t know what it’d be like to give one away.

Hard, isn’t it?

This leads into Morag talking about her wish that her daughter would be just like Roo, and becoming tearful. The direction for this lovely scene is worth noting. It’s a slow pan and zoom that starts near Morag’s headboard, looking at her left profile, and moves very slowly down to the bottom of the bed and round towards Roo’s side. All the while we’re getting gradually closer to them. There’s nothing showy about it at all. But it had a curious combination of detachment (distance) and intimacy (the sustained, lingering shot) as well as a general sense of a shift. Without consciously noticing, the viewer is taken on a little journey that helps us to share Roo’s empathy with Morag. It’s quite beautiful.


Another relationship is going to have a significant chance for Morag. Alf returns from Tennyson Heights with news.

I managed to get hold of Richard… Not only is he not comin’ to see ‘er, he never wants to have anything to do with here again. Ever… He doesn’t wanna know.

There’s more bonding going on over at the diner, where today’s tedious Lance and Martin plot involves Lance pulling chicks by telling them about his and Martin’s illustrious singing careers, only for Martin to deny everything. Lance leaves, angry and confused:

Things aren’t that good between you two these days, are they?

It’s not that I’m tryin’ to hurt Lance or anythin’… But if I keep hangin’ around him then people are gonna think of me as one of the town jerks. An’ I don’t want that anymore.

This I suppose, is all part of the new, improved, substantial Season Two Martin. At risk of the character being damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t, I can’t help feeling it doesn’t work. Ironic, considering Martin and Lance’s jokey stuff is the weakest part of the series for me. Martin trying to distance himself from Lance in a bid to improve his credibility is probably a believable thing for him to do. But something feels strangely askew with it. I think it has to do with not being contained. Lance and Martin goofing around wasn’t enjoyable to watch. But at least they’re kind of in a vacuum. But Martin having a heart-to-heart with Roo or Carly messes with the formula a little and is almost like worlds colliding. Perhaps there’s an element of trial as well. Martin and Roo had some screen chemistry together that was good for their characters (at least short term). Martin and Carly don’t really have that for me. The main interest in the scene comes from thinking about the change since early scenes such as him trying to chat her up in the Pilot. But because we don’t really know who Martin is, it hasn’t felt organic.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episode 247 (...continued)



Ailsa channels Aunt Fiona no end in this episode. There’s the Fairy Godmother angle with Bobby and Frank where she strides into their flat brandishing Quantas tickets and warnings that she won’t take no for an answer:

I’m gonna send you both off to that hotel I stayed at in Singapore for a proper honeymoon… You’ve already had more hassles than most married couples have in a lifetime and how long’s it been? Twenty four hours? …Promise to enjoy yourselves. And… forget about everything that’s happening back here. No newspaper. No TV. No nothin’.

This leads to a Singaporean montage of the Morgans walking through exotic greenery (images of which I seem to remember being used to promote the episode in the TV Times), being served platters of colourful fruit and looking generally sunny on the beach. As well as a little whimsical dialogue. I’m guessing we cover at least a couple of days during this episode, since the flight time from Sydney to Singapore is apparently eight hours and ten minutes today, and I can’t imagine it being any shorter than that back then. And they seem to have spent enough time there to feel fully relaxed.

As far as I can tell, there aren’t any landmarks or points of interest other than capturing the general “feel” of a different place. I’m assuming these were all filmed fairly locally to where most other scenes are shot.

After Fairy Godmother Ailsa we see her through the eyes of Tom and Pippa, and it’s not especially pretty. It's implicit, but she comes across as a little meddling and someone who's attracted to drama (as I said, shades of Fiona Thompson). Bobby and Frank’s foster parents, remember, have been kept completely in the dark about the drama surrounding Bobby and Morag (albeit at Bobby’s own request). In the end, they hear about Morag being Bobby’s mother from Sally, who heard the news from Alison Patterson’s little sister, Kim.


There was a little running thread for a good part of the episode of Sally trying to tell people the news and either not being heard or not being believed, and while most of it was run of the mill and disposable, it did give my favourite prosaic little moment of the episode, where Sally got fed up and stomped off, hands on hips and shouting angrily like a proper little madam, leaving Tom and Pippa perplexed. This is followed by a lovely little moment where Pippa (or Vanessa) looks at Tom (or Roger) as if to see what he’s going to do. Tom pulls a face and mutters “another failure”, and they both collapse into laughter.

It feels very spontaneous, real and warm. If I had to guess I’d say it was ad libbed. It certainly has an immediacy that grabbed me.


Eventually, Sally is listened to, and the shocked Fletchers go to the flat where they find Ailsa who confirms the truth and further explains she’s shipped them off to Singapore, again without a mention to Tom and Pippa. Adding insult to injury, she then produces a letter that Bobby has left for Tom and Pippa. Judy Nunn reels off the explanation about not having time to tell Tom and Pippa and about being asked to give them the letter with great speed, almost as though she’s gritting her teeth and getting it over with while not quite being invested. The three actors make the scene fly - Tom and Pippa’s shock in particular comes across, and there’s an unspoken sense that Ailsa feels awkward about knowing what they didn’t but there’s something about the scene overall that feels untruthful, or at least that feels as though messy plot contrivances are being hastily tidied up.

Look, I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to take in and you probably feel as if you’ve been a bit left out but, honestly, the whole thing just exploded yesterday.

So what do we do know? I mean, how many other people know? What, do we just forget about it, do we?

I wish we could. I’ve got a feeling we’re not gonna be allowed to.

How right she is. The first glimpse we get of the newspaper headline comes, presumably the next morning, at the end of the episode’s second act. And there’s much in this short location scene that says a great deal without any dialogue at all being present.

Firstly, there’s something of a reveal. We see someone approaching a bundle of newspapers, but only from the ankle down as the smart shoes topped with suit trousers stop. Then we see the newspaper being picked up with one hand while the other drops a coin onto the bundle. This implicitly reminds us that this is a small town. One where there is still trust. Summer Bay seems so far removed from the scandals in The Star. We pan up to reveal it is Donald. Even though it was inevitable given all signs pointing in that direction, there’s still something going on here. He looks down at the headline and we see James Donahue’s mused, off the cuff headline from the previous episode made real (note the greengrocer’s apostrophe. I like to think it’s deliberate, to reinforce what a naff rag The Star is). We watch Donald absorb the news, with little to tell us what he feels about it, other than he’s clearly deep in thought.

That remains our only sighting of Donald this episode. Until the final scene:

You don’t have to creep, Donald. I’m awake.

I didn’t mean to disturb you. Are you all right?

No. But I’m told I’m going to survive. So I’ll have to take their word for it, won’t I? …Donald, are you here for a reason? Because the suspense is killing me.

Well, I’m not sure. In part, I think I…

Donald.

Morag. I have to know. You have to tell me. Is it me? Is it?

And again, a game-changing revelation is made. And we haven't even got the answer yet.

I love how this one is played. Morag’s reaction upon seeing Donald enter is fantastic. She closes her eyes and gives a “humph” kind of sound - almost a derisive little laugh. As though Donald’s visit was inevitable and even predictable. What’s not clear in that moment is why she might think that. By the end of the scene that might be understood, but in that initial moment, it could be read that he’s there as one of the moral majority.

Seeing the two coming together also gets the wheels going about how they know each other. It’s a little unexpected. Bit by bit the pieces fall into place: they both grew up in Summer Bay; oh yes, they were both at Roo’s wedding and Alan’s funeral; that’s right, Donald was married to Barbara. And Barbara is Morag’s sister. There’s so much work to do trying to make sense of the puzzle. And it’s crucial, because if Morag’s answer is in the affirmative, the family tree is going to have to come down completely and be started all over again.


There are huge pauses in Norman Coburn’s delivery of Donald’s final lines that create an incredible amount of tension. As in a previous hospital bedside speech - telling Alan he loved him and begging him to live - he does powerful things with minimal dialogue. Cornelia Frances stares inscrutably in reaction shots, and there’s suspense. Just when there’s been so much space you think she has to answer him, he says something else. And then the episode ends with Morag still not having replied. And he’s not the only one that has to know. I find it hard to believe any viewer would be able to fight coming back for the next episode.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episode 248




Originally watched: 26th January 1990
Rewatched: 26th January 2020

Have you any idea how hard this is for me? To learn now that I have a daughter that I knew nothing of. I didn’t even know you were pregnant. Why didn’t you tell me?

In answer to Donald’s earlier question - “Is it me”, the episode begins with a flashback. Young Morag’s present once again. That is, the twenty two year old barrister Morag who previously had cloak and dagger meetings with Martha. Not the eleven year old version who we saw belittling baby Celia on the beach.

This time, Young Morag interacts with two previously unseen younger versions of characters we know well. First there’s a conversation between Morag and Barbara in which Morag is accused of having eyes for Barbara’s husband Donald. A conversation which ends with each accusing the other of having a bad marriage.

Next up, we meet young Donald. There’s something of a fake-out here, as we see a smiling young surfie running across the beach, only to follow him as he runs past Donald, formally dressed and brooding. Morag approaches and offers him a friendly ear as he bemoans the fact that Barbara is so involved in her music she doesn’t notice him anymore. Leaving Morag to be the sister who understands.

Novel as the flashbacks are, there is something quite off about them. The younger actors look the part, but it’s a different story when they speak and move. None of them really sound like their older selves. Dialogue is delivered too quickly and lacking emphasis. Where Cornelia Frances’s Morag is crisply authoritative, Eve Kelman’s version seems so placid and wishy washy, despite being written as someone with confidence and drive. I can accept the idea that people might develop certain airs and more charisma as the decades roll by, but even with this in mind I find it difficult to believe these characters.

The flashback character that’s worked best for me has been Martha. And I imagine this is because she started with a blank slate, other than a glimpse at the occasional photograph. She could have been played any number of ways and it would have been easier to accept as truth because there was no template for the character. Though even that doesn’t make it fireproof. Les was a little different to the picture of the character I had in my mind.

With young versions of established characters, it feels very much that they were chosen because of physical resemblances: Donald’s piercing blue eyes and curly hair; Barbara’s trademark Nixon nose, etc. I believe they would probably have got better actors - or at least people whose mannerisms were closer to those of their older versions - if not for narrowing the field this way.

To me, the flashback and the earlier dialogue between he two confirms that the pair ended up in bed together at least once. But this isn’t proof positive that he’s Bobby’s father and so hasn’t actually answered his question about him being responsible. To 1989 Donald, though, there’s no doubt. So either the flashback has convinced him he’s Bobby’s father or Morag has confirmed this to be the case without us seeing. Either way, from this point on it can be taken as read that Donald is indeed the daddy.

In a nice touch, the only person he can discuss it with is consumed with bitterness on the matter.

All these years. You never said a word.

Well, that’s the general idea with things you don’t want people to know about… If you’re feeling guilty Donald, don’t. It was a long time ago and there’s no denying the fact that it was I who seduced you. We were both very weak. We were both very selfish. But unlike you, I was the one who paid for our night of [she laughs feebly] whatever it was.

If Morag is testier than usual, it turns out to be with very good reason. Immediately following the visit from Donald, Alf arrives (he and Donald actually meet at the nursing station). This is the first opportunity she’s had to chastise him for betraying her confidence:

How could you?! How could you tell her who I was when I expressly said that under no circumstances was she to know?

You were calling for her.

[shaken] What?!

You were calling her name. Celia was there… What option did I have. I didn’t know whether you’d pull through.

Well, I was delirious. You should have realised that.

Get off your high horse, Morag. I was only tryin’ ta do the right thing.

Well, with typical ineptitude you’ve managed to do entirely the wrong thing… All I can hope for now is that it’s not too late for the whole unpleasant business to blow over. [she pauses and sees the concern on Alf's face] What is it?

I think you better have a look at this, Morag. I’m sorry.

continued...​