Religion juxtaposed with murder? Check. Wailing, vaguely New Age soundtrack? Check. Hitman smiling beneficently at a baby as a priest talks about the sanctity of life, NO IRONY INTENDED? Check, check, check.
Must be Friday in Port Charles.
You know, when even the characters can’t get through a church ceremony without commenting how lucky it is there wasn’t a shoot out — which is ironic, see, because there was a shoot out! Get it? GET IT? — well, that might be a sign that the creative well is running a little dry, Bob.
But I digress. It’s been nearly two years since we started on this crazy Dominante road trip. And, kids? We are finally there. Dominic is Dante! Ben is Glory! Up is down! Black is white! Murder is wrong! (No, really! More on that below.)
I can only pray that every reaction to this news will be as entertainingly over the top as Epiphany’s tray drop/double take. And I have especially high hopes for Sam’s response, given her last reaction to Sonny fathering yet another child:
But I digress again. Who could have guessed the writers had it in them to do a slow build like this anymore? And it is just so typical that they couldn’t manage to draw out a decent romance this long to save their lives, but throw in the possibility of letting Sonny shoot his own kid and suddenly they’re masters of patience.
Oh, whatever. The sad fact is that all of this might actually have been worth it just for Dominic Zamprogna, who’s really just delightful in every way (except for his awful, awful Farrah hair), and who is inexplicably allowed dialog like this:
DANTE: I don’t respect you– I despise you! […] You should pray, Sonny. Not for me, but for your kids. You pray they never see you the way I’m seeing you now, a cold-eyed bastard who would kill anyone to get whatever the hell he wants.
OH EM GEE, you guys. You know how truth-telling turns me on. Was that good for you too? And then, as if I wasn’t already hot and bothered enough, we got this:
SONNY: Our Father… that’s what you are, Holy Father. Forgives us, protects us, loves us. I’m a father too, and I love my kids more than anything in the whole world. And I try my– I try my best to do right by them. No, no, no, no… That’s a lie, Father. It’s not right to kill. And pulling a gun, pull the trigger on someone who saved your life. A brave man, a good man, who turns out to be your son. That’s not an accident. It’s your judgment on me for the live that I chose to live, that I would try to kill my own son.
First of all, the narcissism is — as always — breathtaking. Of course all of this has been all about him! Why wouldn’t God kill a good, brave man just to teach Sonny a lesson? It’s Sonny’s world, people! We just live in it.
But still: killing… is wrong? Cops… can be brave and good? WHO IS THIS MAN, AND WHAT HAS HE DONE WITH SONNY?
Granted, like all of Sonny’s tragedy-related epiphanies, he will promptly forget this revelation before the blood has dried. And just in case he doesn’t, everyone he knows will no doubt be knocking themselves out to reassure him that he’s the best father on the planet and not a single part of this mess is his fault. Because this show is ass, and the people who make it hate me.
But in the meantime, I’m going to let sweet, sweet schadenfreude wash over me like a rain of salty hatred. Tastes good, doesn’t it?
Finally, speaking of hate, here’s Carly:
CARLY: Well, I blame Elizabeth for all this.
LUKE: Well, you might not be in a position to throw stones — given all the men and marriages with your tire tracks across their back. Now, that’s not criticism. It’s just a caution not to judge.
Oh, Luke. Sometimes you make me forget how much you suck. This is one of those times. Slow clap, baby.