Who doesn’t love a good soap wedding? People with no souls, that’s who. Because soap wedding are 1) one of the only happy occasions we get to see large numbers of the cast together in one room, 2) involve pretty dresses (or disastrous ones — almost as fun!), and 3) usually guarantee a spectacle of some sort.
Of course, back when the soaps all had money, that spectacle might involve real sunlight and Elizabeth Taylor and honest to God square dancing. Whereas nowadays, we count ourselves lucky if we get some streamers and a shot of Nancy Lee Grahn’s fabulous bosom:
All of which makes it kind of impressive that the writers were able to finagle a way to keep the spectacle of Sam and Jason’s wedding both low key (and inexpensive) and completely in character. And also kind of fun! Which is good, because I needed some fun to distract me from my raging Franco hatred, which burns with the heat of a thousand douchily pretentious suns. But that’s a rant for another day.
(If I occasionally fantasize about beating him to death with that stupid clapping monkey, that is nobody’s business but my therapist’s…)
In any case, even if they leave me yawning as a couple, I liked that this wedding felt personalized to Sam and Jason, that pretty much everyone you’d expect to attend was there, and that nobody was shot at the actual wedding ceremony or reception. (Yes, I know. But no violence in the church itself — baby steps!)
Which isn’t to say that it was all good, of course. I know the writers went with the Chinese restaurant thing because it’s been a longstanding part of Jason and Sam’s relationship, but it’s kind of unfortunate that the only Asian people in Port Charles are apparently wise old shopkeeper stereotypes, you know? Also unfortunate: that these are the only Asian people in Port Charles. Oh, Kelly, wherefore art thou?
Then, there’s Spinelli’s refusal to tell anyone about his continuing computer issues, to the point of just not sending out wedding invitations or ordering crucial pieces of the wedding decorations. I mean, it goes without saying at this point that just about everything Spinelli does annoys me. But this is fast reaching new levels of obnoxiousness. And I like using Lila and Alan’s rings, but did we really need to endure 5,000 rounds of Maxie losing Sam’s original ring to get to that point? Because it stopped being funny at– oh, what am I saying? It was never funny.
Meanwhile, this week on What The Fuck Is Wrong With Michael:
MICHAEL: How is he?
CARLY: His pulse is weak.
ABBY: I’m gonna call an ambulance!
MICHAEL: No, you call an ambulance, the cops come too, okay? I want to talk to dad before we bring–
ABBY: What the hell is wrong with you? Dante is on the floor bleeding to death, Michael, we have to get him medical attention!
MICHAEL: Abby, this is my dad’s warehouse. Dante’s a cop, all right? It looks bad. But we can get Dante to GH on our own.
ABBY: Your brother could be dying, Michael, okay? And you’re worried about how it’s going to look? To hell with that!
First of all: FREE ABBY!
Second: what the fuck is wrong with Michael? Is he trying to get back at me for saying he wasn’t as loathsome as Jack Manning the other day? (Psst, Michael… that wasn’t meant to be a challenge.)
And of course, when the cops got there, Carly launched into yet another completely unnecessary cover up, because… actually, I have no idea why she even attempted that because it was so obviously false (Michael is waltzing around with Dante’s blood all over him!) and so COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY, seeing as Michael works at the warehouse, has good reason to be there, no motive to shoot his own brother, and did absolutely nothing wrong other than refusing to call an ambulance, but it’s not like the cops would know that anyway.
In conclusion: WHHHYYYYYYYYYYY???
(See also: Anthony “needing” Lisa in order to wreak havoc, Kate suddenly deciding to give Sonny the time of day, Jonathan Jackson’s continuing refusal to wash his hair, and Franco’s… existence.)
This show has now reduced me to wailing incoherently. Congratulations, writers.