A confusing world of cliches

Press, 12 September 1986, Page 15

A confusing world of cliches

Ken Strongman

ON TELEVISION

As a way of getting in the mood for an annual hour with “Dallas,” seeing the last half of the final episode of “Falcon Crest” could not have been better. Other than the actual finale, it was made up of a series of men and women having at each other in various ways whilst mutering “This is a tragedy” or "This is your son.” Every phrase and movement was a cliche, the most compellingiy cryptic being “The doctor said not to expect any miracles, but he’s holding his own.” At such a late stage ir the game, it was not possible to pick up the story

line, except that it involved sizzling relationships. The men all looked like out-of-date tailor’s dummies and the women, particularly those of advancing years, had the appearance of ventriloquist’s dolls. The grooves at either side of their mouths gave the strong impression that they actually expected a hand up their backs, pulling the levers. There was a marvellous ending. An earthquake brought down several grams of polystyrene blocks onto the actors and covered them with gushes of pink water flooding from some unspeakable

place. It was left unclear how many denizens of “Falcon Crest” had been destroyed. Presumably, there will be some survivors since it has the feel of a progrmme that will be with us until the century turns. Compared with “Falcon Crest,” “Dallas” turned out to be a surprisingly good celebration of the vulgar. This week’s episode began with J.R.’s wife, Sue Ellen, worried because J.R.’s former girl friend had told her that J;R. had given her (the girl friend) up for her (the wife). Sue Ellen didn’t like this because she thought it was a way

of putting pressure on her to give up her boyfriend. J.R. said he didn’t give a damn, but my guess is that he didn’t understand what was going on. "Dallas” contains fewer cliches per minute than “Falcon Crest” but the acting is no less obtrusive. The actors are only a hint away from polyester clothes and, with the possible exception of Larry Bagman, they stick out from the background, rather than seeming to be part of it It feels as though one is watching one of those TV bloopers compilations; as though the actors are going to burst out laughing at themselves at any moment J.R., though, really is a cleverly drawn big business psychopath, able to pack enough simmering insincerity into his smile to be the envy of a politician in a party political broadcast Behind this facade, however, he whispers things to people just in case they are In any doubt about where he stands on certain vital issues. “There was a time when I wouldn’t waste a minute on you. I’d simply have your legs broken.”

In fact, the special thing about "Dallas,” almost its defining characteristic, is that no matter what moral and social dilemmas face the characters, they smile. Teeth bob about like ice-flows in a sea of faces, no matter what people ae saying to one another. Happy, sad, angry, jealous, it does not matter, the same smile is there. In the end, they all begin to look like the cat on “Goodnight Kiwi” as he jumps up to see himself on the screen.

Poor Sue Ellen, caught between the machiavellian J.R. and her smoothly medical admirer, said, in as subtle a self-analysis as she could muster, “I’m still trying to figure out what I want.” Other than J.R., who knows exactly what he wants and exactly how to get it, this is everyone’s predicament in “Dallas.” And even J.R. might be pretending. Their relationships are so complex and their smiles so constant that they must be very confused. My advice to them is to capitulate, learn a new facial expression and just do what J.R. tells them. Then the only one confused will be him.