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

[Mel O'Drama]

Episode 248 (...continued)


With Morag at rock bottom, there’s a slightly different approach to the head-butting going on between she and Alf. Not that things are much improved:

Doesn’t look like I’ve got much of a life left.

I know it’s a bit of a shock to you but, well, it won’t turn out as bad as you think.

I’m sorry Alfred. I think it’s a little late for the Pollyanna bit… Apparently my husband wants nothing more to do with me. I’m going to have to resign from the bench before I’m forced to do so. If there is a bright side… well, it’s unlikely that I’ll be prosecuted for concealing the birth of a child. Now I may be wrong, but I don’t see that that’s much to cheer about.

You’ve still got your family Morag. You’ve still got us.

And that’s a consolation?!

Well, it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?

[crying]No. It’s not.

It’s a terrific scene that shows Morag at her most vulnerable while also gently exploring the strained relationship between the Stewart siblings. It’s also perhaps symbolic of a journey taken by many a misunderstood soap character: redemptive suffering. Seeing Morag broken allows us to take pity and empathise with her. Wherever she’s going from here, it’s not back to where she was. A new beginning awaits, and that’s a journey that may involve the viewer going along with Morag.

Donald can’t help but return again. Which is risky considering (a) he’s already bumped into Alf on his previous visit, and (b) anything he says to Morag will be met with negativity.

Coming for his second visit, I like the way the staging and direction of the scenes echo those in his previous episode where he arrived to ask if it was him. But this time he finds Morag sitting upright and in as complete a battle mode as her present condition allows. She is visibly struggling physically, but as she’s involved in a phone call, she is doing what she can to mask the extent of her vulnerability while she speaks to someone - presumably someone she is connected with through her law career - in an attempt to minimise the devastation coming her way:

I’ve looked at it very closely but unfortunately I don’t think there’s anything specifically defamatory. Well, threaten libel action anyway. Maybe it’ll stop them from printing anything else… And as far as Richard’s concerned, can you arrange for a caveat on the house? The way he’s reacting at the moment there’s no telling how he’s gonna behave.

Donald has returned ostensibly to tell Morag he’s decided not to reveal to Bobby he’s her father. But really it’s about Donald processing his newfound knowledge. He has no-one else in whom he can confide, after all. With her life in shatters, it’s little wonder that Morag wryly sneers at how Donald’s decision lets him neatly off the hook. Adding insult to injury, she goes on to express relief that she won’t have to publicly admit to her tryst with Donald. Undeterred, Donald continues to think out loud:

I’m not ashamed of being her father. As a matter of fact I’m quite getting used to the idea… I failed Alan badly. Very badly… And if I were to be brutally honest I’d have to say I don’t know Rebecca very well. But… with Bobby I feel like I’ve been given a second chance.

Oh, wake up to yourself, Donald. She is nothing but a common little tramp. She is rude, abusive and offensive in every way.

You’re wrong about her, Morag. Very wrong. Sure, she’s got her problems, but there’s a lot more to Bobby Simpson.

In spite of all the praise you’re heaping on her you’re still not prepared to acknowledge her.

What good would it do her now, at this stage?

Ooh, and it might hurt you. Wouldn’t look too good in front of the P & C*, would it?

No… And if what you’re trying to say is that I’m a weak man, please don’t bother. I’ve heard it before.

And just like that, Donald joins Morag on a journey to who knows where. And won’t it be fun to find out.

*The abbreviation “P&C” was new to me. Even though it was fairly self-explanatory given the context, I couldn’t resist looking it up.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parents_and_citizens
I like it. The term PTA always sounds dreadfully American to me, and I wince slightly when I hear it used in the UK (putting it in the same category as "baby shower", "movie" and "can I get..."). Aussies seem much better at resisting Americanisation in some areas while wholeheartedly embracing them in others.

Speaking of schools, the new term has begun and there’s also been the unheralded debut of the new-look Summer Bay High uniform. Season Two’s Alison Patterson is Vicki Baxter who has established herself by bitching at Carly about being moved back to her year group and then calling an uncomfortable truce after Martin threatened to punch her in the face. Perhaps the most notable thing about her is that she’s played by Norman Coburn’s daughter Nana. So far so good.

There’s still the suggestion of Carly having feelings for Martin (yawn), but there’s already a spanner in the works there.

Following Terry Robinson, another frizzy haired ex-Ramsay Street blonde is hanging round Martin and Lance. This time it’s wicked Wendy Gibson who played Danny and Scott off against one another in the early days of Neighbours. Played by Kylie Foster, Leanne Dunn is a character who grated on me back in 1990, just as she had in Neighbours before it (and whenever I’ve rewatched since). Her squeaky ickle girl voice and the slutty ingenue thing she has going on are going to test my tolerance of Lance and Martin scenes like never before, and as I recall she sticks around for a while. Her use of the word “perceptic” to describe Martin’s potential ESP did make me smile, so it’s not all bad news. But frankly it’s a small consolation.

By the time this episode aired in Oz, Home and Away was midway through its second week in the UK, where the Fletchers were contending with Eric the barking dog. Word of this must have reached Summer Bay: Tom’s just asked if the Fletchers would like to go and live in London.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 249-254




Alison Patterson’s exit from Summer Bay - and from the series - has shown the characters at their most uniformly passive-aggressive. And it’s not pretty. First up are Carly, Sally, Steven and even Neville:

Carly… look, when does Bobby get back. Because somebody has got to tell Matt that I didn’t mean to get her Mum in all that trouble. I didn’t realise… Somebody’s got to tell him or else he’ll never speak to me again. Carly?

You stink.

Who are you talking to, Sal?

Yeah, there’s nobody here.

And what about you, Nev? You in on this too?

Lovely weather for the time of year.

God, you’re pathetic. All of you.

Next up are Matt and Ailsa:

Come on Matt. No-one’s talking to me, OK. Please Matt. Matt?!

[Matt carries on writing and ignores her]

I must remember to put up the “Closed” sign when we’re not open, Matt. We could find all sorts of undesirables drifting in.

Yes.

As often happens with this kind of behaviour, it’s the perpetrators who are shown to be less as a result of their actions. Any valid point they may have about Alison is undermined by their way of getting it across. No matter what her actions, Alison’s ostracism from the community seems particularly cruel, but also unusually cowardly from people who are usually up for an argument. I’m not sure if it’s deliberate as the general tone seems to be one of victory.

After his willing participation, Matt mutters a line or two about feeling bad - just as he did after his willing participation in the previous shaming of Alison recently. His character has seemed so changed since his return. He now just seems to alternate between smirky and remorseful with a whole lot of nothing in between.

Being sent to Coventry does justify Alison’s final action on the series, which occurs offscreen. The last we see of her is stalking outside the diner when Ailsa and Matt leave. On Ailsa’s return to the diner she finds a little surprise:

Ailsa immediately knows who caused the damage and speaking to Alison’s Mum confirms it.

It was Alison, all right. Her Mum reckons we drove her out of town… Apparently she’s just helped herself to the family shopping money and shot through to the city.

And that’s all she wrote for Alison. As exit storylines go it’s not bad. Certain main title series regulars haven’t been serviced as well. There’s also a neat little bookend aspect to Alison’s time on the series: when we first met her she was stirring up trouble by exposing a covert romance of Donald’s (the one with Ailsa). And she’s inadvertently done the same just before leaving.

I’m just a bit worried about Macklins sending you overseas so soon after we knocked back their offer for the caravan park

Pippa’s intuitive reasoning about Nick’s scheme has caused tension between she and Tom. The secrecy has added to the sudsy fun, with Pippa initially electing not to spoil Tom’s high about the job offer. There’s a nice scene in which he comes home from work in the middle of the day and finds her on the phone trying to dig up some dirt on Nick. Roger Oakley gets across Tom’s journey from breezy to surprised to annoyed, and Vanessa Downing equally perfectly conveys the journey Pippa is taking at the same time from covert to surprised (she does a nice physical jump after hanging up and realising Tom’s in the room) to guilty to taking a deep breath and speaking the truth. It’s plain that Tom’s pride has taken a blow:

There’s a simple solution to this. Tell Nicholas it isn’t for sale. See how he reacts.

Oh, all right. If you’ve got so little faith in me I suppose I can give him a test. No, I’ll test him all right. I’ll test him. Not in the way you want though.

Tom’s test is probably more well thought out than Pippa’s. He knows that Nick would instantly see through him saying the park wasn’t for sale, so he goes the opposite route and casually mentions that since it looks like they’ll have to sell after all it might be worth them discussing it.

Sneaky as it is, Nick is still a step ahead and tells Tom that Macklins have opted to develop on the other side of town where there is less opposition and so they no longer wish to buy the park.

But then Tom gets an offer from an unexpected source

I understand that your caravan park is still on the market. I’d like to buy it… I’ve always had a great dislike for people who make excuses for their behaviour. I abandoned my daughter eighteen years ago. That’s all there is to be said about it and… no explanations are going to compensate for my behaviour… It is not what I say now, Mr Fletcher, that counts. It is what I do. This might be the last chance I’ll get. I want to buy that caravan park for her… It was Alf’s home… It’s a piece of family heritage… I want to more than just buy her affection. I want to do something that says “you’re one of us”.

I liked that Tom was slow to trust Morag’s motives. He asked all the right questions and put forth all the right arguments for his concerns. And she allayed them each in turn. So with his family’s best interest in mind, Tom has now made two deals: a handshake agreement with Nick regarding the London job and a verbal agreement with Morag to sell her the park.


Naturally, Morag has formed a secret alliance with Nick and is buying the park on his behalf. Though she has her own motives:

It’s simply a case of me doing you a favour and, if I need it, your returning it. I am determined to ruin that girl the way she destroyed me…

You really hate her that much?

More… I’ve lost everything because of her…Hate her? Oh yes. And I won’t rest until I see her back in the gutter where she belongs.

Part of Nick returning the favour has been asking Frank to work long hours which already has the newlyweds up to their elbows in tedious domestic arguments. Much to Morag’s delight.

...continued​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 249-254 (...continued)



At the hospital, Morag has been rudeness itself, which is very welcome. The way she treats the nurses has seen her evoke the spirit of Sister Scott. Even when the nurses come bearing food:

Take it away. If I want indigestion I can think of better ways of getting it. Well, don’t just stand there opening and shutting your mouth. Get out!

So when Celia arrives and says she has something to confess, Morag is anything but gracious:

It was you who told the paper, wasn’t it? …You’ve been waiting all your life for a chance to get back at me like this.

I had hoped that this experience might humanise you in some way. But I now know what a forlorn thought that was… You haven’t lost everything. You’ve gained. A child. The most precious gift that anyone could have.

Oh, and of course you’d know all about that wouldn’t you, you dried up old sp… Oh, get out of here.

Ready to be discharged from hospital, and without Richard’s support, Morag finds herself homeless. But she’s not without her resources:

I rang mother and father in Tahiti this morning. I’m going to stay at their house for the duration.

Celia’s place?

No Alfred, not Celia’s house. It is our parents’ house.

And with that, Morag’s more permanent status on the series is assured. She’s even mentioned the possibility of buying “the old Blaxland place”. Her initial plan was that she would banish Celia to the spare room at Alf’s, but we got to see a newly assertive Celia who marched into battle, stopping traffic on the way. She physically threw Morag’s nurse from the house and made it clear she had every intention of staying.

This means there have been multiple scenes of Celia and Morag facing off. Now that Celia has scared off the nurse for good by telling her about Morag’s past, Morag spends all her time on the sofa, radiating venom and giving Cornelia Frances the chance for some first class wig acting as the two rake over old resentments with shades of Baby Jane:

Jealous? Of you?!

All my life. The dolls’ house Daddy made me. My confirmation dress. My book prize in form one. What have I ever done to you?

You were such an irritating little child. So priggish… And a snitch. One could never trust you with anything.

Well I never uttered a word about Les.

That spotty young man you were engaged to?

I know you had eyes for him. I saw you at the New Year’s Eve party. You made a beeline for him at midnight.

As I recall it was the other way round.

How dare you sully the memory of a man who gave his life in defence of his country.

Great excuse for becoming a dried up old maid, isn’t it?

That’s unforgivable.

I do hope so.

Cornelia Frances is just wonderful. She seems to have a ball playing Morag at her most unpleasant. I like to think she’s thinking in some small way of Rowena Wallace at times. Even though it’s struck me in the past couple of days that the S&D character who has most in common with Morag is Dee Morrell.




We’ve got down to The Battle Of The Remote Control as Morag tires of living in a “cultural desert”. Even this has given us snippets of history

Do we really have to sit through this drivel to the bitter end.

Don’t you dare. I’ve waited months for this to be repeated and I’m in the middle of taping it.

You must be joking. What sane person could possibly watch that rubbish more than once?

It happens to be my favourite movie. It holds very special memories for me.

Some days later, Celia is watching her videotape of the same film again:

“Romance To Remember” was our favourite film. Les used to say that I looked like Tiffany Wethrington.

Well I knew he was dim, but I didn’t realise he was suffering from premature dementia.

After the film, Celia prepares to turn in:

Are you going to bed?

No, thank you. I’ll just stay up a bit longer, I think.

I wouldn’t if I were you.

I beg your pardon?

Phone Richard. He’ll never be fool enough to take you back, and ringing him in the middle of the night is hardly going to help.

You know, Celia. For a good little Christian you can play very dirty.

You don’t leave one much choice, Morag.

We’ve seen more of the cold, judgemental, vengeful Celia in some of these scenes, so Morag obviously brings out the worst in her. This is a good move on the part of the writers. It gives us empathy with Morag so that when she does indeed phone Richard and when Celia’s prediction is fulfilled, we’re on her side enough to care that Morag is in pain.

...continued​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 249-254 (...continued)


There’s a scene where Celia invites the ladies auxiliary round to the house where they cluck round Morag. When they all enter the kitchen, Morag has a warning for her sister, which Celia coldly shoots down with a frosty look worthy of Vinegar Tits:

I warn you, I will not be turned into a sideshow.

That’s hardly my doing, Morag.. It’s just the price you must pay for having a dubious past.

This proves a nice example of the back-and-forth power game. When Celia sends Betty Falwell in to keep Morag company, Morag gives her more gossip than Celia had bargained for:

I told her all about you and that French plantation owner you seduced in Tahiti. Pierre Bergerac… Pity about his wife and children… And how our parents were so distressed by you shamelessly flaunting your adulterous lover they sent you home immediately and asked me to keep an eye on you… Celia the homewrecker. Rather good off the top of my head, I thought.

Morag. But why? We’re family.

Next time you feel the need to go gossiping to irresponsible reporters you might even think twice, dear.

While Betty and the Ladies’ Auxiliary dine out, everyone else find the very idea laughable. This leads to an enjoyably daft dream sequence which comes when Celia falls asleep while watching Romance To Remember for the umpteenth time. She dreams she’s the helpless virgin getting rescued, but her hero morphs into Morag and then she has visions of everyone laughing and shouting out “It’s Morag”:

It’s a creatively shot piece and looks as though they had a great deal of fun with it.


Even more than Morag spreading the rumour, Celia is upset by the fact that everyone in Summer Bay finds the very idea of Celia pursuing a man so hilariously ridiculous:

If Les hadn’t died. Oh things would have been so different. I’ve accepted that I might not find that kind of happiness again. Perhaps I wouldn’t be willing to risk losing it again if I did. But what really hurts is being the butt of everyone’s humour. It’s time for a change, Alfred. It’s definitely time for a change.

And so the next day, Floss and Neville come across a glamorous lady walking into town:

...continued​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 249-254 (...continued)

Seeing that it’s cards on the table time, I suppose I’d better tell you the full reason I came to Summer Bay. Hadn’t I?

Things have come to a head with Nick and Stacey. Most of it has been typically beige Nick and Stacey stuff in the beige soulless Macklin office:

The major reason I’m here is because Daddy dear isn’t at all happy with the way you’ve been running things… As long as we were engaged I was prepared to humour you. But since we no longer are you’d better get one thing straight. I’m running things. Your father gave me carte blanche to make whatever changes I have to.

There have been melodramatic negotiations, with Nick riding roughshod over Stacey and Stacey in return working out some of Nick’s angles and trying to use it for the good. There’s even been a bitch slap in the diner. It’s probably considered important, but feels fairly disposable to me.

As things come to a head with Nick’s machinations and the full extent of his troublemaking is coming to light, there’s a little promise of interesting things ahead. But more on that later.



Over at the Stewarts, the poison pen letters have continued:

Rather than simply a threat with a hint of mystery, these are now cleverly being used to strengthen the ties that bind and even move communication forward in the family. With Ailsa’s previously hidden concerns there in black and white, Alf is enlightened to the extent of the implications from the pregnancy:

Point is, whoever it is knows what they’re talking about. It’s something we had to face sooner or later.

Yeah, look… I know as you get older there’s a bigger risk of the kid having a few problems…

We’re not just talking about a few problems, Alf. We’re talking about possible physical deformity. Down’s Syndrome… You were just so happy, love… I didn’t want to spoil it for you. Maybe our poison pen friend’s actually done us a favour. Well, at least it’s all out in the open now. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.

Is there any way we can know for sure?

Yes… There are tests. I told the doctor I wouldn’t have them. Well, I’m five months. There’s nothing we can do about it anyway.

Hang on a minute, Ailse. What makes you think I’d want to do anything about it… That’s our kid you’re carrying. An’ if it’s got two heads and three arms, well, it’s still our kid… I’m gonna put a bottle of champagne on ice, Ailse. An’ I’m gonna crack it the day that kid’s born. No matter what. If the baby comes out a bit different, well then we’ll know we’ve got a special child. One that needs just a bit more loving than the other kids. That’s all.

Alf and Ailsa’s relationship has been a revelation this time round. There’s an incredibly special chemistry between them and once again it shows how much I’ve underestimated Ray Meagher’s performance in these early days of the series. This isn’t Alf at his most nuanced, but there’s genuine care going on behind those eyes.

Ailsa’s line about Alf being happy and not wanting to spoil it for him is almost identical to those spoken by Pippa in this run of episodes when speaking about Tom’s job offer. I can’t help thinking of those Sons and Daughters YouTube comments which criticised patriarchal Australian soaps, because these scenes strongly suggest a matriarchy in which strong women protect men by withholding information. Thus once again making their miscommunication seem virtuous and heroic. It’s a trope that can be found the world over - including those Aussie soaps of a decade earlier.

Alf’s newfound knowledge, and the family coming under threat from an unknown outsider leads to scenes of harmony around the dinner table, and the same four characters who recently raised a glass to Ailsa’s pregnancy come together around the dinner table for a motivational Alf speech that wouldn’t sound out of place coming from Jock Ewing:

It won’t be any of our friends because anyone who knows the Stewarts’d know that something like this will only bring us closer together. We’ve had our rough times lately but, well, we’ve come through ‘em just like a family should. An’ I reckon it’s time we charged our glasses - or cans - an’ drank a toast to the future, eh?

These episodes have seen the culprit unmasked - at least to the audience. When the earlier note was written we saw the camera pan from a promotional Macklin Resort picture to the typewriter.

When the next note is written it follows a scene of Frank and Nick at the Macklin office. And we see Nick sit at the typewriter and bash away, before pairing the letter with a photograph. He then places it in Roo’s drawer and makes sure Frank finds it. For the first time since his skinny dip, Nick has done something that’s held my attention.

One thing that struck me about the “Naughty Girl” note is that it lacks the quotation marks that have characterised the other letters. Is this significant, or an oversight on the part of either Nick or the props department?

This also raises a thought that I neglected to mention when Bobby got her poison pen letter: if Alison was inspired to write it after hearing about Ailsa’s note by Chinese whispers, is it just too much of a coincidence that she used exactly the same capital-letters-in-quotation-marks style? or is that simply the house style for poison pen letters?

...continued​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 249-254 (...continued)



The revelation that Donald is Bobby’s father is weighing heavily on his mind and there’s a wordless scene of him walking reflectively along the beach and sitting on a dune deep in thought. It feels familiar, and seems to parallel Donald scenes that we saw during and just after the Alan era. Right down to the incidental music. This isn’t a coincidence, as Donald then produces a book and looks at it:

Morag’s arrival means that he finally has a confidante in matters relating to Bobby. I’m sure Donald must have known even before speaking to her that he’d be met with a barrage of bitterness and sarcasm. But he’s willing to subject himself to it in order to speak out loud about his fears:

The less I hear about that wretched daughter of mine the better.

Ours. Daughter of ours, Morag.

Yes. Pity you couldn’t stand up and say that in public. Couldn’t quite muster the courage. Very wise. Look what it’s cost me.

I was thinking of her, actually… It was the relationship she formed with Alan. That’s what’s worrying me.

[Morag laughs]

You don’t feel a jot of responsibility for this, do you?

No, I don’t.

It matters to me.

Well then, why don’t you ask her. And how very amusing that could be.

Donald’s flawed fatherly instincts - good intentions coupled with awkwardness - do good things for him as a character. It was the case with Alan, and it’s proving so with Bobby.

I’ve always loved the scene in which Donald comes by the flat with some “old” kitchen appliances and gadgets for Bobby and Frank with an excuse about not cooking much as he’s by himself (this, I assume is confirmation that Walt Bertram is definitely gone. If it’s been explicitly said I missed or have forgotten it).

There’s a special something to these scenes of Donald - and the viewer - knowing facts to which Bobby isn’t privy. And so there are all these layers that create an excitement. Nicolle Dickson is thoroughly engaging in these scenes. Her confusion about this new, avuncular Fisher bringing her apparently new goodies is plain to see. There’s an element of pride (Bobby offers to buy the items from Donald) combined with gratitude as these are things she is very glad to receive and couldn’t afford to buy.

Donald then takes the conversation to a deeper place:

Life doesn’t always turn out as expected. And If you should ever feel you need someone to turn to, well, promise you’ll come to me.

Look, we’ll be fine.

Promise me.

OK.

The conversation is interrupted by Carly, Steven and Sally crashing in, and Donald beats a hasty retreat leaving Bobby confused about what’s happened. Donald has been slightly hesitant to get to the point and missed out, and there’s a sense that this isn’t easy for him. So the scene which picks up the conversation in the diner is gloriously awkward for him:

It’s not an easy thing to ask. And I’ve no right. It’s very personal.

Look, if it’s about Alan, go ahead.

Um, I wondered… if you and Alan… were more than friends… Well, di… Um, a… a little more serious, perhaps.

No. Look, we were just good friends… It doesn’t matter, does it? Look, he had a great time while he was here. So he didn’t get to do it all…

I’m sorry. I don’t know why I even asked the question. It was stupid of me.

What the heck. You wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t have to know.

Once again, the two actors work wonderfully together. Nicolle Dickson shows us Bobby’s thought processes throughout the conversation. She’s clearly uncomfortable at times and for a few moments it seems that Donald has crossed the line for her into downright inappropriate. But then she smilingly obliges with a response that’s as gentle as possible because she feels he’s asking out of love for Alan. Donald is equally uncomfortable. Even after finding out that Bobby hasn’t had sex with her half brother, he is too uncomfortable to allow himself the luxury of relief or happiness. Donald knows what Bobby doesn’t and so the conversation takes place on different levels while still connecting them with an intimacy that would have been unthinkable just a short time ago.


Meanwhile, Morag continues to bring out the fighter in Bobby. On learning about the offer for the caravan park, Bobby bursts into Celia’s demanding to know what Morag’s real reason is:

You spill your guts or you’ll really know what a busted skull feels like.

What a charmless little creature you are.

You haven’t seen nothin’.

I’ve put your sort behind bars before now.

The geography of homes in the bay is still a puzzle to me. While Bobby and Morag were sparring, Celia, on foot, ran up to Philip and Stacey on the beach in front of the store, and told him about the argument. In order to break it up, Phil got in his car and drove to Celia’s.

...continued​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 249-254 (...continued)


With Leanne and Martin hot and heavy and Leanne working in the diner (oh joy), there’s been a scene there in which Roo sincerely told Leanne she was happy for them while Carly suppressed giggles. They’re the three who have all had Martin-heavy scenes recently, so the scene felt like them kind of passing the baton.

Carly evidently still has some sort of crush on Martin, so she’s taken it upon herself to advise Leanne on how to dress and how to date (men, Carly warned, don’t marry women who put out). Now she’s standing back and enjoying the fruits of her labour as Martin and Leanne are at odds.

I do enjoy this bitchy side to Carly, and there’s an equality to those in receipt of her snide comments. With the potential move to London, the royal family are coming under fire A little like politics and religion, it’s great to hear the Fletcher family’s views on various royals:

Isn’t she a pretty baby?

What baby’s that Sal?

Princess Beatrice.

You mean “Beetroot”. She looks like it, too. All red and wrinkly.

I bet Fergie and Andrew never fight.

Oh, come on Sal. People fight all the time… [looks closely at Sally’s magazine] Look. That is a black eye.

What, Fergie or Andrew.

I’ll put money on Fergie any day.

Look at his face. I bet they fight all the time.

No they don’t. You’re just being mean. I think they’re nice. And when I go to London I’m going to visit them every single day… The Queen. And Charles and Di.

Look, all they do is go to parties, ride horses and waste taxpayers’ money, Sal.

And wear nice clothes. And play with dogs. And visit sick kids.

I think you’d better give it up, Carly. We’ve got a royalist in the family and that’s all there is to it.

It just cheeses me off… They’re just normal people. They’re nothing special.

There is a little twist where Tom produces Carly’s Charles and Di scrapbook, but it’s still incredibly refreshing - almost exhilarating - to hear the royal family spoken of in a soap in a matter of fact way without reverence or romanticism (Sally’s input aside). With schisms in the family making headlines and Andrew still very much the news for all the wrong reasons, some of Carly’s observations seem more relevant than ever in 2020 terms.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 255-257

I would never do anything to hurt you, darling. You’re like a daughter to me.

Just as the episodes building up to Roo’s wedding were all about Morag and Roo, so the most compulsive strands in the last few episodes feature one or the other. Indeed, the strands are becoming so well entwined that most now feature both. Even if Roo doesn’t know it.

For Roo, this week is the best of times and the worst of times. I particularly enjoy that it’s not a linear journey, but one with peaks and troughs. Just as things seem bad, there’s hope. At first.

The first trough makes itself known when Frank confronts her over his “discovery” of the poison pen letter in Roo’s desk drawer, with no doubt in his mind:

Who else in Summer Bay does this sort of thing? Who else wants to split up Alf and Ailsa? Who else could even think of something like this? No, Roo. This thing’s got your signature all over it.

This is where the last couple of months since Roo’s return really pay off. There have been several times when Roo has been sweet to people and I’ve commented that it’s hard to fully buy into it because of her history of screwing people over. With Frank’s confrontation, we begin to learn that others have been feeling the same way. It hasn’t taken much for Frank to about face in his seemingly complete forgiveness of Roo, and once that trust is broken, he is absolutely adamant and won’t listen to Roo’s side of the story. He warns her that he won’t tell Alf and Ailsa yet, but if any more poison pen letters are sent he’ll tell everyone. Unable to prove her innocence, Roo feels she has no choice but to allow the situation.

Knowing that Roo is innocent, it’s plain to see how cruel this is. But there’s an irony, too. The girl who cried wolf for gain is about to be devoured with all her friends baying for blood to be drawn. It’s almost karmic.

Most fascinating of all is to learn that, after all this time, someone having a great deal of trust issues where Roo’s concerned is Roo herself. After her quiet protests to Frank fall on deaf ears, she hops on the couch for some analysis from Dr Phil:

I think there’s something very wrong with me.. I’m not sure I know what I’m doing anymore… I think I’m going mad.

And here we tap into character history. Very recent history, as it turns out:

I’ve done things before I can’t remember doing. After Martha was born I had to go to the hospital a couple of times a day to feed her. Sometimes I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there. One minute I’d be sitting at home, studying for the exams. An’ then I’d be standing there, in the hospital, looking at Martha. It was like a whole piece of time had just jumped out of my memory. Then, all that time in the city, when I went to have her adopted. It’s all mixed up. I can’t remember what was real and what was a dream. When I got back it was like a fresh start. But people don’t trust me. And I don’t know who to trust.

I couldn’t help thinking of that scene where Brett physically dragged the exhausted Roo to the hospital to breast feed Martha. It was a brutal scenario, and from this viewer’s point of view it would be completely understandable if Roo had blocked part of this painful time from her memory. But it’s also quite exciting.

What this insight into Roo’s inner feelings has done perfectly is to establish how vulnerable she is. She has support in her newly close family unit with Alf and Ailsa, but not a great deal outside of this. But there is always her aunt.

With Morag’s return to Summer Bay, Roo has a new confidante. They’ve been very close and trusted each other with confidences before - their formerly shared hatred of Ailsa and the truth about “Frank’s” baby being two such things. It’s natural that Roo would go to her aunt.

Paving the way for Morag’s complete interference is that Roo initially believes that Morag is the only person with the motive to make trouble for Alf and Ailsa and the clout to have Ailsa tailed. Once Roo is convinced that Morag didn’t, in fact, know anything about it, then Morag becomes her go-to confidante.

There’s more irony here. Because Morag didn’t have any knowledge of the person behind the letters until Roo said enough for Morag to realise it was Nick and summon him to demand an explanation:

I haven’t got anything against Ruth. It was just a plot to get Ailsa and her greenies off our backs. An old Macklin trick. If Ailsa has a certain amount of family conflict going on it doesn’t leave much time or inclination for other activities, such as opposing the development.

That girl means more than any other person in my life. She is practically a daughter. In fact that’s exactly what she’s like: my own daughter.

But it’s only a matter of hours before Morag decides to use the situation for her own gain. And screw the hurt it will cause.

I’ve been doing some thinking. I’ve changed my mind. You could be doing me a favour. I want you to go ahead with your little scheme as planned.

But you said this afternoon it would destroy Roo.

Oh, it will. But only for a short time. And I’ll be there to pick up all the pieces. In fact she’ll be so grateful to me she won’t have time for anybody else.

...continued​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 255-257 (...continued)


Over at the Stewarts, the harmonious atmosphere that’s prevailed there for some weeks now continues. For starters, we’re casually dropped some good news at the top of a scene. Ailsa is admiring the flowers Roo has sent her:

It’s amazing how wonderfully it’s all worked out, isn’t it?

Yeah. Especially getting those test results back of yours.

Talk about a relief.

All that worry for nothing, eh?

Now the throwaway aspect of this dialogue was disappointing. After all the drama and worry about whether or not Ailsa should have the test to find out if the baby has Down’s Syndrome we find both the test and the result have all happened offscreen. I can’t help feeling that we were robbed of at least a scene in which Ailsa told Alf the good news. Instead, we’re left to wonder and play catchup. It’s an anti-climax to say the least.

Not that there’s much time to dwell on this. Because Roo arrives with another present for Ailsa. She presents her with a bag which contains teddy bears and suchlike:

When I decided to keep Martha, Dad gave me some money to do some shopping for her in the city. It’s funny, you know: when I had her adopted I couldn’t bear to give them away. I guess I needed something to remind me of her… I want you to have them for your baby.

I don’t know what to say, really. Thank you. I’m very touched. You giving me these is the nicest thing you could have done. I haven’t bought any baby clothes. Somehow I thought I might be tempting fate or something. But having Martha’s, it’s very special to me. Makes me feel as if you’ve really accepted both me and the baby.

I have.

Naturally, it’s a beautifully warm scene between the two women in a relationship which feels as though each has truly earned the others respect. But more than this, it keeps alive themes which are important for us to remember. Roo has been through events that have scarred her emotionally. And while she seems happy and together on the outside, we know that she is still recovering and vulnerable. So her reaching out to Ailsa means even more to them and to us.


Behind the scenes, Morag is putting schemes into action. She does the groundwork by telling Alf she’d like Roo to come and stay with her when she moves into the Blaxland place. An offer which, of course, she needs to validate with an explanation that plants a seed with her brother:

Have you noticed Roo acting strangely lately? …She’s covering up. I don’t think she’s at all relaxed with you and Ailsa. In fact I think Ailsa’s pregancy is only serving to remind Ruth that she’s just relinquished her own baby… It amazes me how you fail to see it.

You oughta keep your opinions for the courtroom, Morag. Nobody’s payin’ you for ‘em down here. You fancy mothering someone why don’t ya start with Bobby. Show a bit of interest in your own daughter and stop tryin’ ta steal mine.

This is the third such mention in two episodes of Morag viewing Roo in a maternal light. Once again she’s throwing a daughter to the wolves so that she can have what she wants.

Nick’s part of the deal is to visit the Stewarts and convince them that as investors they were entered into a competition and have won first class tickets for an around the world trip with $5000 paid towards accommodation. Despite her earlier antipathy towards Macklins, Ailsa joins Alf in snatching Nick’s hand off.

He also pointedly returns some shopping of Roo’s to the house, and makes sure the poison pen letter is on top where it is duly found by Ailsa and given to Alf.

This is where months of groundwork put in by the writers start to pay off. It sets the wheels in motion for responses to an absolute betrayal. One that characters, for all their hopes and good will, feared was inevitable and had in some way prepared themselves for. They may have closed their minds to any such suggestion. They might (and indeed some have) chastise others who held a less charitable outlook. But once the floodgates are open, there’s no time to think before the deluge hits, leaving nothing but devastation and undoing months of gentle forward steps in a heartbeat. The change is instant. And it is absolute.

Roo comes home, enters the living room and smiles warmly at the flowers she’d bought for Ailsa earlier. She glances down and sees two packed suitcases:

Auntie Morag wants you to go an’ live with her. I’ve organised a cab to get you there.

Dad, I swear to you I don’t know where these came from.

Not another word, Ruthie. I wouldn’t believe you if my life depended on it.

Ailsa?

Sorry. Not this time.

All this rubbish about how you’d changed an’ how you’re tryin’ to start afresh. You’re just pulling exactly the same old stunts you’ve always pulled. Don’t bother coming back for the rest of ya stuff. I’ll have it sent over. You’re not welcome in this house ever again. From now on, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a daughter.

And Roo becomes collateral damage of the Macklins’ business strategy and Morag’s materteral ambition. There’s a terrific moment where Roo just looks at Ailsa and holds her gaze. Neither says anything, but the silence speaks volumes and their connection has gone. Instantly. As much as we, the audience, with the information we have, are completely on Roo’s side, we can also fully understand Alf and Ailsa’s responses. The doubts that they believe have just been realised are the same ones we may have held ourselves, if we didn’t know better. It’s a brilliant way of telling a story from multiple perspectives.

...continued
​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 255-257 (...continued)



This isn’t the first time Roo has fallen out with Alf. And certainly not with Ailsa. And these have been overcome. So it’s to the credit of writers and actors that this family rift comes with an air of finality. The tone was set with Frank’s earlier willingness to believe that Roo was responsible for the letter. And after being launched so firmly from her family home, it’s Frank that Roo tracks down and takes her frustration out on, along with a threat that he’ll get his.

But it’s the rift with Alf and Ailsa that really stings. And there’s no sign of a thaw. Ailsa discusses with Alf how sick it was of Roo to present her with toys and clothes for the baby while all the time writing disgustingly cruel letters. Celia, to her credit, does her best to mediate but finds she’s wasting her breath:

I don’t want her back. God knows I’ve tried with that kid but I’ve had about all I can take. You can give this back to her.

An’ you can tell her from me that I meant everything I said last night.

They’re the words of people who have been taken for fools having turned the other cheek more than once and have resorted to being cold and hard to protect their own feelings. This, I can easily imagine, is something of a regression for Ailsa who had been necessitated to cut herself off emotionally in order to survive the dysfunction and violence around her, first at home and later in prison. It feels very much as though their current words and actions are mantras to keep the walls up, lest they allow themselves and each other to be hurt further. Like the betrayed spouse, whose love turns to anger and a hatred that informs every interaction from that point on. it’s the other side of the coin. And Ailsa, most of all, has brought up her walls. Even as a viewer, this almost hurts because we’re back to where we were a year ago. This gives us complete empathy for Roo and allows us to feel simultaneously frustrated and invested in this new-but-familiar situation.

When faced with a brick wall, Roo responds in kind and it just creates more misery. On seeing the returned gifts, she angrily says that they should go to charity as she never wants Ailsa to have them. More than anything else, it’s just incredibly sad.

With Roo having no choice but to stay with her aunts, Morag has the gift of time. Which she uses to plant the seeds of acrimony, getting several birds with one stone:

The person who put that letter in your desk tonight is the person who set you up and it wasn’t Frank… Ask yourself this question: who stands to gain most if you are disinherited? …Ailsa has a child on the way and if Alf cuts you out of his will, Ailsa’s offspring will be sole beneficiary.

But Ailsa never goes near the office. How did the letter get into my desk?

Who is close to Ailsa and married to Frank. And who would love to see you and Frank start hating each other?

It’s enjoyably warped. Because the repercussions keep on rippling out and affecting more and more people. And Morag is the glue holding all the storylines together. Until very recently, the Macklin development and the sale of the caravan park had seemed so separate from Bobby’s quest to find her parents. Which in turn was separate from the all-new Roo getting re-integrated into her community, or Ailsa’s pregnancy. Now there’s no telling where one ends and one begins. It’s like we’ve stepped back and seen how all of these smaller pieces - some of which seemed almost inconsequential at times - are part of a bigger picture that is filled with careful detail.

...continued​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 255-257 (...continued)


With lines so blurred, the “serious” and more lighthearted scenes have become more complementary. Or at least they coexist happily. An example of this would be when Celia came to Alf’s to try to patch up the disagreement with Roo. She used Lizzie to get there and poor Alf’s dustbin got it. I do like this little ongoing piece of business that Celia is a poor driver.

Morag, too, straddles the line between comedy and tragedy. In earlier episodes, we may have seen Morag rolling her eyes at Celia’s idea of culture at the beginning of a scene while by the end of it she was breaking down in tears when trying to reach her estranged husband. This thread has continued. Morag’s very presence may be threatening everything that is fundamental to the series - the Fletchers and the Stewarts are all well on the way to extinction it seems - but she can still take the time to put Celia in her place. And Celia’s new image is a fodder on which she cannot resist dining out:

Oh, good God. What do you think you look like? Dame Edna Everage on a bad day? Or a tea cosy?

How dare you be so thoroughly rude. I never make nasty remarks to you.

Well I don’t happen to wear the Queen Mother’s cast-offs. And as for your coiffure: you’d be quite within your rights to sue the hairdresser for damages. I’ll even act on your behalf if you like. You could make money with that look. Hire yourself off to the church for a floral arrangement.

Sister or not, Morag, you are a vicious, sarcastic woman. You don’t care who you hurt and you can’t find a nice word to say about anyone.

And you can’t take a joke, Celia. Which is ironic. ‘Cause you are a joke.

I am not. I am a warm-blooded, sensitive, feminine woman. And it is time that you and the rest of Summer Bay realises that and takes me seriously.

I appreciate how seriously these two great actresses treat these scenes. The idea of Celia getting a makeover is somewhat frivolous, but it’s not played that way… all the time. There is music between the lyrics, and while Morag’s lines are enjoyably shallow, zingy and funny, Cornelia Frances rides effortlessly between the light and the dark. Funny as the scenes are, Morag is as threatening as ever. At times she’s almost sinister.


Likewise, Fiona Spence makes sure Celia responds with truth. This isn’t Celia getting tipsy and falling into bushes. There’s real hurt there. And anger. New Celia is far more assertive than she was pre-makeover. And it all makes perfect sense. The point of the makeover was to prove there was more to her than people thought. And while the makeover itself hasn’t impressed anyone other than Leanne, Celia is fighting her corner and proving the very point she was so determined to make. And she’s doing it though her words rather than simply how she dresses. Floss makes the same mistake as Morag and, even though put a little more kindly, she is met with an equally strong rebuttal:

It’s not really you, is it? It’s all sort of soft and floaty and a bit… Mills ’n’ Boon.

You mean the dress is soft and feminine and I’m not. Is that what you’re saying?

Not exactly. It’s just that, well, you’re more sort of straight up and down. Blunt. Direct… Look, luvvy, I know you’re tryin’ to win the kids back with new image, new music an’ all but… I think you’ll save yourself a lot of heartbreak if you just be yourself. You know, the same on the outside as you are inside.

Well, Floss, I will be direct. I fail to see how you dare to pass remarks on personal style when you obviously have so little yourself. Those colours are hardly becoming to an elderly woman.

The execution of these scenes is perfectly pitched and highlights what a good actor can do with an amusing scene. And that’s the difference between these stories and the Lance/Martin/Leanne tripe that is the most unwatchable part of this series at the moment. The only L&M scene worth noting in recent episodes had to do with my earlier point about unassociated storylines touching on one another. One typically dull Lance and Martin conversation took place outdoors, above the beach. While they spoke, a man walked by in the immediately background and could be seen waving at someone as he headed down the dunes to the sand. It turned out to be Nick on his way to a beachfront assignation with Morag. And while Lance and Martin remained in their bubble - the only characters on the series with absolutely nothing to interest, other than Martin’s dull engagement to drippy Leanne - I like that there was that little moment that reminded us that these people all live in close proximity to one another. Even when their storylines don’t entwine, they have that common ground.

 

[Pamela_E]

I ended up really liking Lance and Martin. Not sure what happened to change it as I used to find them annoying.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

I ended up really liking Lance and Martin. Not sure what happened to change it as I used to find them annoying.

If you ever find out the secret of what happened let me know, because it would make my viewing so much more enjoyable.

If anything it's the other way round for me. I could tolerate them back in the late Eighties but now they make me want to fling the remote at the TV. It's ironic that Peter Vroom is now a meditation teacher.

 

[Pamela_E]

If you ever find out the secret of what happened let me know, because it would make my viewing so much more enjoyable.

If anything it's the other way round for me. I could tolerate them back in the late Eighties but now they make me want to fling the remote at the TV. It's ironic that Peter Vroom is now a meditation teacher.

Did they become more serious? Maybe i'm mixing up my timelines. I thought they took a more darker tone.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Did they become more serious? Maybe i'm mixing up my timelines. I thought they took a more darker tone.

Possibly. What I mostly remember is that Lance's hair got longer and stragglier as the time went by. They had a couple of return visits, didn't they? Maybe they were a bit more grown up in those.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 258-261

I can’t stop thinking about her. I keep wondering where she is. What she’s doing. What she thinks of me. At night sometimes I have to actually stop myself …from going round there and visiting her. Bobby’s noticed it too. She accused me of staring. Being a voyeur. Me - her own father.

Donald’s intrigue regarding the new information that he has an illegitimate daughter has taken a dark turn into obsession these days. And with only Morag to hear his confessions, he’s finding himself in an isolated spot.

The organic changes in their relationship have had the benefit of a double-bill of sparkling Bevan Lee dialogue which shows how they run the gamut. A great example is an exchange that took place on nostalgic territory: immediately outside Summer Bay High:

Yo, Sir!

You’ve left school, Bobby. There’s no need for the “sir” anymore.

Well, what would you prefer? “Hey, Flathead?”

How about a simple “Good morning, Mr Fisher”?

What’s so simple about that? Anyway, how are you?

Oh, I’m fine. Fine. So tell me, what’s prompted all this concern?

The book’s out, right? So I thought you might need a bit of a boost.

Oh, I see. Well… that’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you Bobby.

I’ve already set Matt straight, so don’t worry. Any others who start slagging off’ll get the same.

In the space of twenty seconds, Donald has spoken sternly to Carly who is depressed and late, and the familiar early Season One sparks are flying again:

Geez, you can be a real jerk sometimes.

Just because I am not your teacher anymore doesn’t give you the right to talk to me like that. I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job. I didn’t ask for your support over the book. It doesn’t mean you can take liberties.

Oh, well up yours too. How come you have to blow being halfway decent by turning back into a mongrel.

This shift is profound enough, but then it changes again. Donald backs down and offers to speak to Carly and offer her some time off school. And red flags are raised in Bobby’s head. It’s an awareness that makes complete sense because it is in touch with history. Most of their exchanges in Season Two have been on a different footing not just because of the reveal of their new relationship but also because the Rebel vs. Authority dynamic has all but gone. It feels completely appropriate that here on their old stomping ground, the unfamiliar turn this familiar scenario takes would start Bobby thinking.

Only Bevan Lee could apply this approach to this particular story. He takes a story that’s been satisfyingly twisty. Then he shifts the focus away from plot and straight back to character. In his two episodes, all of Bobby and Donald’s scenes are disarmingly prosaic. Which allows us to almost hear Bobby’s mind working. It effectively captures that strange feeling we can have when we know intuitively that something isn’t right but can’t quite explain it. What’s more, Donald - who has become increasingly relatable and likeable to the audience - is suddenly seen through Bobby’s eyes at this moment in time. And it feels a little icky.

He also explores it through Bobby’s dialogue. She talks over her feelings, first with Matt and then with Frank. But neither is particularly bothered because they weren’t there and so are viewing things objectively. To them it’s just a twist on the familiar butting of heads between Donald and Bobby.

We, on the other hand, stay with Bobby and continue to see these interactions through her eyes. Donald comes into the diner for breakfast and lies to Bobby about having no food in the house. She knows he’s lying but remains polite. Then he asks her to join her for breakfast and we sense her relief when Frank interrupts them. Frank and Bobby argue about him working late and Frank stomps off, and then comes the straw that broke the camel’s back. Donald steps forward and proffers a supportive ear for her to discuss her problems. With nobody else getting the same gut feelings that she is, Bobby is isolated into taking action herself. She chooses to lock him into the diner with her:

You’re acting like a real case around me lately… You’re stayin’ right here till you tell me what’s going on. An’ I wanna know the truth. Now.

And with that, Bevan Lee leaves Donald cornered and with it looking very likely that the truth about their relationship will be forced out. The confrontation continues in the next episode:

I admit I have been paying you a certain amount of attention lately, but… it’s only because of Alan’s book… Alan was very fond of you and… since there’s little else to remind me of him… I guess I feel in you some sort of bond.

Yeah, all right. Just cut it out from now on, will you. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

So Donald is off the hook… but only for now.

He’s now taken to watching Bobby from outside the window of her home. And he’s asked Morag to secretly write his new will so that Bobby inherits. What can possibly go wrong?



Incidentally, Donald had another exchange with a Fletcher kid regarding Alan’s book:

About Alan’s book.

Yes, I’m aware of the fuss it’s created round school. I don’t wish to discuss it. The subject is closed, all right?

Well, I was just gonna say I think it’s great. You should be proud of Alan. That’s all.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 258-261 (...continued)

Thought you had it really sewn up, didn’t you? …I don’t know what you were planning on doing with it, but it sure wasn’t gonna help me. So I’m glad you got shafted. Even if Tom didn’t realise that’s what he was doing… His trouble is he’s too nice.

And yours is you’re a common little trollop with a vicious mouth.

Hey, maybe I do take after you.

Donald isn’t the only long lost parent with whom Bobby is clashing these days. She can’t help rubbing it in with Morag after Tom decides against selling her the caravan park.

Unknown to Bobby, Tom isn’t quite so naïve as she thinks. Because he’s been enlightened about Nick’s plan:

We need to talk in private. It’s time you knew the truth about your London appointment.

All I can say is you’re a damned good worker caught in a dirty game.

With his newfound knowledge, Tom gladly gets involved in the duplicity by going to Morag and telling her the deal’s off:

You made me feel a bit guilty actually. What with you thinking about Bobby, and Pip and I just thinking about ourselves… We’ve decided to keep the place for all of the kids as an investment. We’ll put in a manager while we’re away and we’ll just let the place appreciate… It does mean that the sale’s off, I’m sorry. But you don’t have to worry because Bobby will still be benefitting, and that’s really all you care about, isn’t it?

It’s a nicely layered little spiel for Tom from Bevan Lee (naturally). Tom’s secret enjoyment at making her squirm and Morag trying to be gracious while covering her horror and fury was a joy to watch.

As if losing out on the job in London isn’t bad enough, Stacey then convinces Tom that the only way to deal with Nick and Morag is to lie to his family:

The quickest way for Morag and Nicholas to smell a rat is for you not to carry through on your story. You told her you’re keeping the caravan park for the kids, so the kids are gonna have to think you are too… They’ll understand when the truth comes out.

It’s not the lying it’s a whole question of trust, really. Will they understand that?

So Tom calls a full family conference to tell them all he’ll be bequeathing the house to them. Which is a complete lie. This I struggle to buy. Not just that Tom would invest in such an elaborate lie, but also that it’s necessary to tell them in order to fool Nick for a short time. I mean, it’s not like the kids would have to know even if it were true.

Continuity error: Tom worked out while talking to Stacey that Morag was behind Nick asking Frank to work late so that she could damage Bobby’s marriage. In 261, an episode or two later, he works it out all over again while talking to Pippa.



As if secret land buyer; black market baby supplier; bitchy sister; soon-to-be-divorcee and general stirrer isn’t enough, Morag adds the title of matchmaker to her current repertoire.

You haven’t done too well with the dictates of your heart so far, have you? …Don’t you want the best that life has to offer? Well, you’re not going to get that with Frank or Brett… They’re losers and they always will be. Nicholas is right for you and you are perfect for him. Trust me.

Her current situation - along with the fact that Morag herself introduced Brett to Roo - makes her somewhat unqualified. But when’s that ever stopped her?

Morag chose - or rather had little choice but - to light the flame of love in Celia’s dining room using her “pedestrian” crockery. But perhaps Roo will have more of a chance now that work is nearing completion on renovating the old Blaxland Mansion. Incidentally, her very first conversation with Roo at this location also had what I believe is the first explicit mention of her hairpiece:

I hate this wig.

It’s better than covering the scars with a scarf.

Maybe so. It’s ghastly nevertheless.

In other news, Martin took Leanne to meet his family hoping it would put her off the idea of marriage. It seems to have worked - - for now.

Carly has overheard the truth about Matt’s motives for being with her and let him go in a scene which echoed their last split but showed growth on Carly’s part:

I just want you to know that it’s all right. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m just sorry that you had the hassle. Thank you for caring.

And Pippa has returned after a fairly lengthy absence. She hasn’t done much since coming back, but it’s good to have her back, and I especially enjoyed a beautifully warm, prosaic scene in which she talked the family through photos of her time with her parents:

That’s Mum and me in the back yard.

You look funny in that big hat.

That’s Dad’s special. He practically sleeps in it… Oops - that’s the one with the lens cap on…. This is a close-up of my mother’s famous shortbread biscuits. Placed second in the Easter show no less.

Sadly, Pippa arrived one episode too late to see off departing series regulars in the most significant loss for the series yet.

continued...
​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 258-261 (...continued)

Dear Gang,

We’re off to spend a while with the circus. Floss is scared she’ll blubber if we say goodbye so we’re doing a flit. You all know we love you, so we know you won’t take it the wrong way. We’ll write and let you know how to keep in touch. Enjoy London.

All our love,

Floss and Nev

P.S. Don’t let those little devils start tempting you again, Carly love. I’ll pray for you. Big hug, Floss.

The departure of these two original characters has been in the air for a while now. In viewing terms, our first hint was back in Episode 245 where Steven mentioned that a circus was coming to Yabbie Creek and Floss’s eyes lit up, at which point Neville solemnly reminded her not to get carried away because of their vow not to go within five miles of a circus.

At some point before episode 259 they’ve evidently reneged on this vow as they return from a jaunt to that very circus

Fortune teller, she calls ‘erself. No circus would have given ‘er a job in our day… It was tatty, Nev. That awful little tent. An’ all that oohin’ and aahin’ she went on with. “Just do the readin’, dearie”, I said. “You don’t ‘ave to blow a gasket to pull the crowds.”

Prior to this, Floss was last seen in episode 255, where she stomped out of the store having been put firmly in her place for her comments about Celia’s new look:

Well, that’s the last time I try and give you any friendly advice, Celia Stewart.

And those words turned out to be true, sadly. The fact that Floss was then absent for three full episodes, and Nev for longer than that is telling in one way, but also shows the strength of these two characters as ensemble players. They didn’t have to be onscreen heavily to be a key part of the fabric of the series.

It’s interesting that Floss was the more excited of the two on hearing about the circus, but was finding fault after their visit - a visit that the formerly staunchly anti-circus Nev said he enjoyed. There’s a reason for this turnaround, and it all clicks into place as the story moves forward.

Following their visit, things start moving quickly and Nev returns from a swim with some news after bumping into the ringmaster:

Guess who I just ran into? …Gino Gambaldi. He’s offered us jobs… They need someone to run the box office. That could be you. And they need a general maintenance man for the wagons. Well, I can do that with no worries. Whaddaya reckon?

When? How long for?

For as long as we like, I s’pose. But we’d have to start tomorrow when they move on. But think of it, Floss. Back where we belong for a while.

Floss and Neville’s final two episodes are written by the wonderful Bevan Lee, who makes the perfect choice in his approach. Keeping Floss and Nev on the periphery, as many writers are wont to do, would have been the perfect excuse for them to simply drift away below the radar and with minimal impact. Bevan Lee, who knows Floss and Neville better than anyone, rightly has them at the centre of things at the caravan park for these episodes and interacting with the Fletchers.

In Pippa’s absence, Floss gets involved in Carly’s current storyline: a brief relapse into alcoholism after her breakup from Matt. It’s Floss to whom Carly runs when she feels as though she wants a drink. It’s Floss who then finds Carly the worse for wear and picks up the pieces.

It’s a brave move on Bevan’s part, because this risks writing himself into a corner by making Floss almost indispensable to both the Fletchers and an ongoing plot that won’t be resolved before they leave. But this is the whole point. It’s crucial to a satisfying ending that their departure is felt enough to make it meaningful. He knows that they deserve no less.


There’s a risk, too, that Floss choosing to leave at this particular point could be seen as cruel. Bevan gets around this by having Floss and Neville talk it over. How much they love the Fletchers; how responsible she feels for Carly’s wellbeing; how much their home means to them. All the reasons why it makes no sense at all for them to leave.


Ways are found around it. Reasons why they should go. Nev says that Floss could be doing Carly more harm than good without knowing. Brilliantly, Floss even counteracts this by accusing him of saying it to persuade her to go. And Nev rebuts her rebuttal by reminding her how much the Fletchers mean to him.

If not watertight, then it certainly convinces that Floss and Nev are doing what they feel is right (even though it means Floss handing Carly’s care over to the medical superbeing that is Dr Phil). Any question the viewer has is given an answer of sorts. And even Floss is eventually won over:

Let’s go for a last fling before we’re too old to do it.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 258-261 (...continued)



Upbeat as Floss and Nev’s departure is, there’s also an undercurrent to it. Compared with the compelling reminders of how important Summer Bay is to Floss and Nev - and vice versa - the reasons to leave don’t feel quite as compelling. I can’t help feeling this is deliberate. And for this, it’s important to understand the background to the exits.

Sheila Kennelly and Frank Lloyd didn’t ask to leave. They were sacked. Without notice and without discussion (Frank Lloyd discovered he was to leave by reading about it in a TV magazine). And the reason for their departure added insult to injury:

It was all to do with demographics… Our characters were too old and not exciting enough for the viewers. We were told that a survey showed that rating figures were not as high when the oldies were on as they were when the kids were involved in the storylines. So that was that.

A pivotal moment for Floss in choosing whether or not to depart is Neville reminding her that within weeks the Fletchers will be in London and the two of them will be left twiddling their thumbs with nobody to look over. There’s a bittersweet irony to this, because the viewer is already aware that the move will not happen. Stacey has alerted Tom to Nick’s scheme and they are working covertly to try to topple him. So despite the characters’ resolve, the audience knows deep down that their leaving Summer Bay is pointless. There’s an implicit message here to the powers that be.

The way the McPhees choose to depart, and other characters’ response to it, is also symbolic. They leave very early in the morning, while other characters still have the whole day ahead of them. And rather than doing the rounds or throwing a party, these two outwardly gregarious, larger than life characters choose to leave a note and slip quietly away.

This is given a scripted reason:

It’s the goodbyes too, Nev. I ‘ate goodbyes. Especially with people I love.

After their 5am wakeup, the sense of finality is palpable. There’s a heady juxtaposition of hope and loss.

One of my favourite images from this episode is that of Floss fluffing up the interior of their old car with cushions. It’s such a simple and fleeting visual, but it captures that early morning feeling well. I was reminded of childhood camping holidays when we’d leave early in the day to make the most of the time, sleeping bags, blankets and pillows all creating an exciting new cosiness within the cabin. This tiny little touch seems to somehow capture the spirit of the couple. Preparing for an adventure, but taking their home comforts with them. Brightening up a slightly sterile environment with texture and warmth. It’s perfect. There’s no doubting that this couple are experienced in the nomadic life and now the decision is taken they’re getting on with the practicalities.

Even so, Floss still wavers slightly as she turns back towards their colourful caravan. And here’s where the loss comes in. Leaving the van behind is a practical decision that is a sacrifice for them:

It’s been our home for a long, long time.

I know. We can’t take it with us. I mean, look at it. Remember the old trapeze artist’s motto: never look back, or you might miss the hands that are waiting to catch ya.

I can’t help thinking of Ben coming to stay with them, and the happy times they had in what was their biggest storyline on the series.

Which leads to another point: Floss and Nev just aren’t big storyline characters, and that’s fine. All series need Flosses and Nevs: characters who are simply there. To be an essential part of a series for BEING rather than DOING is the mark of true character-driven series. Which is a reason why their departure from the series truly marks the end of an era more than any change up to this point, from Lynn’s exit to the characters leaving Summer Bay High at the end of Season One.

continued...
​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Episodes 258-261 (...continued)


Bevan Lee is not about to let these two characters, who represent effortless simplicity and consistent reliability, slip away without them a reminder of how important they are. And so it is that Carly hears them leaving and awakens Tom and the family. This is an interesting choice, because Carly has frequently been characterised by self-involvement to the exclusion of others’ feelings or struggles. But Floss’s kindness and support in these episodes has touched Carly to the point where she can see outside of herself enough to fight to say goodbye. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that Carly sees Floss and Neville leave by looking through a window, from the inside out.

And it’s here that we’re truly reminded how important Floss and Neville are to the family at the heart of the series, and so implicitly to the series itself. Because after finding the note, Tom and the Fletcher kids give pursuit without even stopping to get dressed.

Looks like we’ve been sprung, old girl.

Didn’t think you’d get away with it that easily, did you?

Give an old girl a hug to remember you by, eh luvvy?

It’s worth noting two things here: firstly, their exit comes at the end of the episode’s second act, which allows for a sense of ending while still allowing the events of the series to continue (events in the final act include Tom working out Morag’s part in Nick’s scheme and Bobby having confrontations - independently of one another - with Morag and Donald). Secondly, Neville does just kind of slip away. As Floss hugs the Fletchers, Nev simply drifts behind them, from left to right. And then he disappears to the right of the frame before Floss and the children get a pre-commercial freeze frame. I can’t help feeling his almost unnoticed walk-off is both symbolic of Frank Lloyd’s annoyance at being let go this way, and perfectly appropriate for a character who spent so much time as a reassuring presence behind the drama and an actor who made a career of walk-on parts.

Earlier in the episode, Nev had said:

We’ll be back. It’s not forever.

Sadly this wasn’t to be. Floss would make the first of several return visits in 2000, some five years after Frank Lloyd died.

There's a lot to be sorry about with Floss and Nev's last episode. To have them denied proper farewells with characters like Ailsa, Alf, Celia, Donald, Frank and especially Bobby is not what I'd have chosen. But as I said, Bevan Lee is telling an organic story, not one that's dependent on hitting the right notes at the right time, but rather one that goes where the characters take them. And I believe this is where Floss and Neville have been taken.

I'll greatly miss them on the series. There may still be seven great "adult" regulars, and the occasional older guest, but losing two wonderful character actors because they're taking valuable screen time away from pretty young things is a warning flag to the viewer that it's taking a deliberate step away from its near perfect original setup. It's going to get worse, with more new young characters than old to follow, some of whom were stunt cast.

#260 also marked Bevan Lee’s final episode as writer until some fifteen years later, so it is a real landmark episode. He’s still credited as story editor until #275, so I’m hopeful there’ll be some quality episodes in among the next batch.