Episodes 658 - 677
15 February - 24 April 1989
continued
There’s a more implicit reminder of the series’ history when Paul Collins visits Sheila for a rather surprising moment of open conversation.
The visit comes after a roadside altercation between Paul and Billy after Paul makes a characteristic comment about Sheila and Billy canoodling on the drive (and Paul does have a very valid point, since it doesn’t look good on either to be in this position a short time after Sheila has moved across the Close to be Billy’s lodger. At the very least it’s inviting tongues to wag). Billy gets fired up and Sheila asks Billy to drop it, commenting that it’s “a touchy subject” for Paul. This, of course, tells Paul that Sheila knew about Annabelle and Brian’s affair.
It’s a nice enough little pickup something that happened briefly some months ago.I like that it’s almost a slip of the tongue that can’t be retracted and which also creates some decent friction in the Collins household just as the dust as settled and they’d begun to reconcile.
Paul’s visit to Sheila to openly discuss it feels more unexpected. There’s an awkwardness between the two that feels most gratifying. As I watched there were plenty of snippets that came back to me, from Sheila angrily reminding Paul he wasn’t in his posh house on The Wirral now to Paul’s numerous faux pas with comments about Barry or Damon made within Sheila’s earshot. But really, despite their six-and-a-half years as neighbours, these two are still almost strangers who have barely interacted on a one-to-one basis.
With this in mind, it feels especially strange for Paul to not only speak so openly about Annabelle’s affair with Sheila, but to wear his heart on his sleeve about his feelings about it. But while it was borderline, it never felt out of character to me in its execution. I don’t know - there was something in me that felt very connected to the scene and the fact that it felt like a breakthrough. I was also reminded that at this point, Sheila and the Collinses are the only characters who have been presences on The Close from the beginning. There is no-one else. Even though this means they have entrenched ways of operating because of the way original characters were more islanded, it also makes sense to me that Paul might just view Sheila as someone he can trust with a confidence.
I must also acknowledge that the breakthrough somewhat represents a potential loss of Brookie’s original USP. We move further towards a situation James described back on Page Two of this thread:
it was already starting to feel more like a conventional soap, with everyone going in and out of each other's houses and confiding their problems at the drop of a hat.
The fact that Sheila and Paul's exchange feels unexpected and awkward means we’re not quite there yet, but given other lesser events in the series, we’re well on the way.
It’s unfortunate that a huge amount of screen-time in these episodes has been devoted to storylines centred around two unlikeable and strident characters.
First up is The Unbearable Chrissy Rogers. Driven by righteous anger over Growler’s lack of support, she’s pulled him out of school, taught him herself, then returned him to school and read his form teacher the riot act in front of other kids. And the whole way through she’s been shrieking and bawling. It’s funny, because this household is essentially filling the gap left by the absence of the Grants, with Chrissy as original-recipe Sheila. She says some the same stuff Sheila may have done, but somehow her vacillating between being the lioness defending her cubs and “I’m a terrible mother” mode feels very self-indulgent and irritating. Growler remains the strongest link in the household, with the rest of the family somewhere in between.
Incidentally, almost as soon as they committed to buying the house - a move driven by Chrissy - she started complaining that there isn’t enough space. Sadly, this is an example of plot-driven tedium. The writers needed to get the Rogerses across to Number Five quickly in order to properly carry the Grants’ baton. But it seems nobody wanted logic or realism to get in the way of this desire. And so Chrissy says she wants a bigger house. Frank goes to an auction and buys Number Five and they move in the same night because Frank has made an arrangement with a fellow bidder (he who will turn out to be Michael Choi) for said bidder to move into Number Seven without delay. It’s all so bloody stupid.
Over at Number Nine, the worst has happened: Self-Centred Sue has been bumped up to series regular status. And she’s started as she means to go on: moaning and attention-seeking left, right and centre. I have to say, I don’t actually remember when she moved into the Close. She kept showing up there, but now evidently lives there.
The pregnancy storyline, I sense, is frustrating for reasons more unintentional than intentional. It ticks every cliche in the book: her protection didn’t work the one night she slept with someone other than than Terry; she decides to abort but can’t go through with it; she confides in Cheryl who is then drawn into the web of lies; she says she wants to tell Terry but then doesn't; Jonathan guesses what’s happening…
Sue’s drama queenery is beyond tedious. She’s having outbursts at everyone, or running from rooms whenever certain topics are mentioned. She’s snapping at Terry, telling him they need money to get their own place, then complaining when he goes out and works overtime as a means to achieving this.
I could be charitable and take the view that it’s laudable that the writers are willing to go ugly. But there’s never really been anything in the performance that gives the viewer any tangible connection with her. Unsympathetic characters can be fascinating, and I’m all for that…but there’s no real substance here, so we just have this annoying woman behaving in attention-seeking ways.. and stealing screen time from more interesting characters.
In a sequence that has become a symbol of everything wrong with the series at the moment, Frank Rogers woke in the wee smalls to find Chrissy feeling sorry for herself and saying how she’s let her family down. Then we cut to Number Nine where Sue was
vacuuming in the middle of the night, disturbing Cheryl and Jonathan. And Cheryl immediately took Sue’s side, meaning that injured party Jonathan ended up apologising to whiny mare Sue and buying her flowers the next day.
Let’s just leave it at saying that this story feels as though it’s gone on forever... and yet I fear it’s only just getting underway.
