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Backstage at THE EDGE OF NIGHT
By Jon-Michael Reed

In the first two reviews of this series (The Young and the Restless, December and Days of Our Lives, January) I attempted to explain the difference between romantic and naturalistic dramas. “Romantic drama,” in the sense I used the term, should not be confused with “romance”; there’s plenty of romance in all the soaps, but only in a few instances is there romantic drama. Let me explain further.

The source and substance of the TV serial format is, essentially, domestic strife. Bob and Carol are on the verge of divorce; Ted has a drinking problem which is driving his wife bonkers; and Alice is concerned over her daughter’s infatuation with that bearded, long-haired hippie. That’s what soaps are all about -bringing other people’s problems into a viewer’s living room.

But how do these problems arise? What causes the conflicts? Are there clear, well-defined reasons for a character to do the things he does? Do we know the values that compel a character to act, rightly or wrongly; and then, is he committed fully to his choices? Or, do the actions result from quirks of fate? Are problems bestowed upon a character so that the point is to witness how he deals with them? Are there, in other words, heroes and heroines who have strongly motivated goals in life, or simply ordinary folks like you and me who merely cope and perhaps somehow muddle through the ordeals of life?

You see, in romantic dramas, characters are larger than life. Even the catalysts of evil, the villains, are larger-than-life. The characters who win our sympathies are strong-willed humans who overcome overwhelming odds in attaining their goals, and they accomplish this with a straight-forward, driving movement. They are not passive reactors. They take the actions that make the plot happen. They are idealized figures who represent people as they should and can be.

In naturalistic drama, characters are people who are liable to change their values and goals at a moment’s notice, who accept the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune by shrugging. “This is the way things are. I can’t do anything about it.”

The Edge of Night is a brilliant example of romantic drama. It is, on the whole, the purest form of romantic drama -good vs. evil- presented in one of its simplest formats -crime and punishment. But headwriter Henry Slesar has gone a step further. He has integrated romantic drama with the essential serial factor -domestic strife. He has invented characters who are, essentially, day-to-day ordinary people and has pitted them against the most dastardly villains. In the ensuing conflicts (structured in mystery-suspense plots) between the two forces (good and evil), the folks next door prove themselves to be romantic heroes of the first order; people who struggle and fight, not merely to persevere, with the most calamitous ordeals. And they can win ! And that’s how it should be.

As with the intricate plot of any substantial romantic drama (the novels of Victor Hugo and Alexander Dumas, for example), it’s terribly difficult to illustrate these points with a description of plots on Edge. As in all well-structured romantic dramas, the plots are almost excruciatingly complex; they often take twists and turns that lead to entirely new sets of circumstances (subplots); new blockades that must be hurtled. Virtue does not easily triumph; heroes don’t easily win their battles.

But let’s look at a recent plot -Martha Marceau’s murder trial. Martha’s desire to have a child was initially a rather simple domestic problem. But it has spider-webbed into an intensely passionate conflict that involves, literally, life-and-death consequences. Actually, the first threads of the spider web goes back a ways: to the introduction of “the crime syndicate” in the town of Monticello; the evil has touched the lives of practically every character in the show -from the rich Whitneys to senatorial candidate Adam Drake and his new bride Nicole; to nightclub owner Johnny Dallas and the girl of his dreams Laurie, whose parents are lawyer Mike Karr and wife Nancy; to newspaper reporter Kevin Jamison and his girl Phoebe, the legal ward of Police Chief Bill Marceau and his wife Martha. The list goes on endlessly.

Subplots have developed in each case, but behind it all, lighting the fires, was the syndicate (evil), pitted against the folks of Monticello (good).

Anyway, Martha was a middle-aged woman, childless after many years of marriage, who realized that she longed for a child to brighten her golden years… so much for your standard domestic problem.

She found the baby who would fulfill her needs, adorable baby Jennifer. Unfortunately, the child was a pawn for the syndicate, who acquired the services of Jennifer’s natural mother Taffy to serve as the catalyst of their devious plans. Taffy sold Jennifer to Martha then later returned, demanding “expenses” -hush money. The syndicate, anxious to use Police Chief Bill Marceau, blackmailed the couple. Then to add injury to insult, they threatened to take the child away unless Bill used his powers to release members of the syndicate who had been arrested; hired thugs, in fact, who had been responsible for the death of Danny Micelli’s wife Babs, as well as attempts on Adam Drake’s life; as well as the bomb explosion that had ended Nicole’s life; the beating of newspaper reporter Kevin Jamison who had been investigating their activities; the infiltration of nightclub owner Johnny Dallas’ business; etc.

But Bill, conscious of the evil such a liaison would encompass, chose to offer his resignation; to end the career that has been a vital, sustaining force in his life; and thereby remove Martha from the clutches of the syndicate. The organization retaliated by retrieving baby Jennifer and returning her to Taffy, who couldn’t care less about the welfare of her child.

Martha, driven to despair, confronted Taffy, pleaded with her to give the baby up, somehow became entangled in a physical struggle -a conveniently handy gun, screams, howls of derision from Taffy, a sudden shot… and Taffy fell in a heap.

Martha is arrested and charged with murder one; lawyer Mike Karr is ill, so his partner Adam must handle the defense case; and who should be appointed the prosecuting lawyer, but none other than Brandy Henderson, the beautiful woman Adam has been courting… and falling in love with! Brandy and Adam must remain in separate camps, each devoted to the requirements and duties of their jobs, each aware of the fact that the battle they must fight may split their love right down the middle.

Martha’s best friend Nancy Karr is forced to confess on the witness stand that she heard Martha threaten Taffy; Bill is also called as a witness (and unwillingly incriminates his own wife!); and even Martha must undergo the recurring nightmare by testifying -and reliving- the tragic error she committed. The good folks are committed to the truth, to justice, to high ideals. And somehow, in the ingenious unraveling, the real truth will be discovered.

It’s a chillingly desperate situation, prickling with suspense and engrossing personal drama. It is, in a word, a brilliant story.

The acting on this show is absolutely marvelous. As an ensemble, this cast is probably the best on daytime TV. The casting director has an uncanny ability to choose actors ideally suited to their chores. The voices, the characteristics, the mannerisms, the looks of every member of the cast are astonishingly on target. We’re seldom aware of how very good these actors are; they possess that most uncommon acting virtue; unobtrusive, yet deadly accurate style.

It would be injudicious to comment on everyone; a magazine could conceivably devote its entire pages to the subject. So, we will limit our opinions to the captions on these pages.

But I must take a moment to comment on the introduction of the Brandy Henderson character. Many viewers, myself included, felt that no one could ever replace Nicole in Adam’s life. Their love, as developed on the show, was probably the most romantically perfect match… that is until Brandy made her appearance.

In another brilliant stroke of genius, headwriter Henry Slesar, aware of Nicole’s endearing and enduring impact, created a character who is even more ideally suited for Adam. Here is a vibrant, independent spirit, totally unlike her predecessor, who possesses a quality that Adam would be irrevocably attracted to -she shares his life’s work. She is fired by the same passions in her own career as Adam is in his. I get goose pimples thinking of the possibilities the situation suggests. Dear Henry, thank you for an inspired creation.

The direction on this show is straightforward, uncluttered, riveting -from the first fade-in to those sudden blackouts just before commercial breaks. And I’d bet that very few daytime serial directors work with their company as do Edge directors. Characters have nuances, subtleties, flashes of insight that “camera” directors simply don’t pay attention to.

There’s nothing to complain about in the production elements of the show either -except to wish Edge had tons of money to splurge on more expensive sets and costumes; more location shootings like the Adam and Nicole honeymoon sequence; more seedy syndicate nesting places and more contrastingly lavish settings. The one production irritation is that there should be more dramatic lighting. For a show that requires so many atmospheres, there is a disconcerting lack of really superior, varied, intensely dramatic lighting.