Tag: Daytime Television

Rest In Peace: Jeanne Cooper, The Fiery Kay Chancellor Of Genoa City

For nearly 40 years, Jeanne Cooper has played Katherine “Kay” Chancellor on The Young and the Restless.
In every daytime soap opera, there’s always that one woman who’s the matriarch, the steadfast character reflecting many generations inside the fictional town.
All My Children’s Pine Valley has Erica Cane.
One Life to Live’s Llanview has Vicki Lord.
Days of Our Lives had Alice Horton.
But The Young and the Restless’s Genoa City had the unbelievably sultry Katherine “Kay” Chancellor.
Playing her since debuting in 1973, Jeanne Cooper’s near forty-year run as the rich, illustrious businesswoman with short silver hair and deep rich voice was originally meant to be temporary, but Cooper put so much passion and charisma into Kay that she was kept on for decades longer.
I was about four years old when starting my CBS soap opera watching ritual with my mother and quite obsessed before preschool even started. At 12:35 PM, Young and the Restless kicked off afternoons of shared chocolate ice cream pints laced with drama, cheesy orchestra music, and click clacks of heeled shoes. This was a comfortable tradition–two dedicated hours being lost in other people’s problems in life and love.
For years, I would come home from school and ask greedy questions, wondering what the “fancy lady” (my nickname for Kay) had gotten into. My mother would recite all the day’s stories, and I fed on excitement-tinged words like ambrosia, always ready for the next delicious morsel.
Stylish, sophisticated, independent Kay was an amazing inspiration and constant favorite. Her razor quick wit, fiery spirit, brimming intelligence, and refusal of fuss from anyone including men were commendable charms to watch. Magic energy beams in Cooper’s bright eyes at each delivered word and ruthless spirit engaged her footsteps. She could throw anything at any character–physically or verbally with the power of a ferocious lioness. They would either feel threatened or step away insecurely at this rage, intuitively knowing that she was a feisty woman who could not be barred or caged.

Kay (Jeanne Cooper, right) and Jill (Jess Walton, left) have the longest-running feud in daytime history.

Kay’s contention with Jill started out as they usually do in soaps–over a man! Their relationship progressed over the years toward meddling in their offspring’s lives and business dealings over the Chancellor Empire, but the embittered twosome has since softened, especially after almost finding out that they were mother and daughter for that hilarious short period of time. They still trade barbs every now and then, with Jill getting angry last week about Kay not telling anyone about her brain tumor.
Even as she aged, the writers still gave Kay great stories–from alcoholism, to many marriages, and the first soap opera extreme makeover (Cooper pitched the idea). The talented Cooper, a former Hollywood film and television star, could do anything. As an avid soap watcher, it is quite amazing to see that opportunity to shine when in other arenas of television and film that is a gift rarely received. Being on a soap opera involves tremendous strife, especially seeing as these actors read 300-page scripts and memorize them daily. With a woman like Cooper still doing and enjoying it, she showcases her passion. It’s not just work for her; it’s a joy that shows in every scene that she steals–shining so bright and beautiful. Age means nothing but numbers!

Jeanne Cooper finally won an Outstanding Lead Actress in Drama Series Daytime Emmy in 2008.

Jeanne Cooper, who contributed so much of her remarkable life to daytime, died May 8, 2013 at the age of 84, just a few days after filming her last scene on The Young and the Restless’s 40th anniversary. A woman to honor and appreciate, she will be celebrated on CBS with a special that airs on May 28, 2013 detailing her phenomenal run.
How many soap actors, let alone actresses get this kind of treatment?
Only a legend.
Though I cannot wait to see what stories they tell about Kay and the actress, my 12:35 PMs are a little sadder now.
And yes, my mother and I mourned her loss over the phone.

‘Days of Our Lives’: Punishing Nicole’s Fetus

Days of Our Lives, one of four surviving daytime soap operas on television.
Since 1998, Nicole Walker, played by the very talented Arianne Zucker, has been the scheming, manipulative, alcohol twirling villainess of fictional Salem, Illinois on Days of Our Lives. Always fully equipped with funny one liners from sharp-edged tongue, the former porn star was a golden afternoon escape to laugh along with as she carried out an arsenal of twisted scheme upon scheme, each one more bizarre and hilariously entertaining than the last.
Of course, as is always the case with a female soap opera character, pregnancy enters her womb, even when she doesn’t want it to, but for Nicole, this is no grand blessing of joy and glowing retribution. Years ago, Nicole had been shot and told that she would never carry a child to term, but in these two shockingly “miraculous” pregnancies occurring in 2009 and 2012-2013, the writers have both rewarded and severely punished her, creating and taking away a motherhood that wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place.
In turn, these two miscarriages would altar the character.

Nicole Walker (Arianne Zucker) is one of the resident bad girls on Days of Our Lives.

Now I’ve watched soap operas with my mom for a long time, viewing them since around age four and almost always the biggest stories revolved around babies. A woman holds onto a man who doesn’t love her by using a baby (usually revealing this “secret” at large publicly attended events like weddings and galas for stun factor); a woman hides her baby for protective purposes; or a baby brings lovers together (rarely). Not a female character alive in the soap opera kingdom is immune to Baby Fever (unless under the age of sixteen or written off), and Nicole is no exception.
In 2009, when Nicole has her first miraculous pregnancy, she is elated and overjoyed, but unfortunately she is having a baby with a man who loves another woman, longtime nemesis, Samantha Brady.
Many Nicole fans were upset by this turn of events, that she could come back into town after a brief hiatus, get pregnant from an elevator ride with EJ Dimera, and become interloping fodder to break a potential couple apart with typical baby dynamite.
It is likely difficult in the soap opera business to continue bringing sharp and innovative stories to the forefront, especially with many of these daytime serials getting the boot for not being hard-edged enough to retain a modest amount of dedicated viewership, but must Nicole be strapped down with a baby? It was far easier imagining her holding little dog Pookie and a cocktail than a blue or pink bowed bouncing baby and rattling pacifier. Her antics and nonsensical plots were stuff of legends–from moneying up, planning murders, and having some of the best fantasy sequences ever. This new found bundle of joy was meant to “soften” brash personality, mature character, and settle her into that domestic place.

Nicole (Arianne Zucker) in the throes of a heartbreaking miscarriage.

The first miscarriage turned Nicole into a stark raving tearful mess and in turn, garnered very emotional scenes of raw poignancy that gave Arianne Zucker her first Daytime Emmy nomination for Outstanding Supporting Actress.  Mourning the loss with on and off again lover/friend, Brady Black, amongst sobbing agony, it wasn’t just losing the baby that demolished Nicole’s spirits, it was losing EJ whom she knew was only marrying her for the “miracle” pregnancy alone.
But that quickly evaporated into a scheme, especially when she learned that Samantha was also pregnant with EJ’s child. Taking matters into jealous and scarily obsessive hands, she found another pregnant woman and switched her baby with Samantha’s so as to have EJ raise his own child underneath the Dimera Mansion’s opulent rooftop. It was one hell of a warped story, and Nicole had masterminded the whole ludicrous charade all while wearing a false padded belly.

Nicole passes off stolen Sydney as daughter to her and EJ Dimera (James Scott).
Now a primary reason Nicole stole Samantha’s baby was because Sydney had been Samantha’s fourth birthed child, and Nicole figured that since Samantha had so “many” children, she wouldn’t miss one. Though these two women had been pitted each other through shared loves and public catfights, it was quite disheartening that Nicole’s underlying envy factor lie in Samantha’s fertility. After Nicole had undergone such a traumatic loss, her sudden aspirations for child rearing and baby cribs seemed to have been murdered by foe “flaunting” her healthy offspring like trophies, leaving a vengeful Nicole with the sinking “I Got Pregnant and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt” depression.
Nicole’s state of traumatic empathy and grief served as catalyst to her anger directed at ripening Samantha who was about to birth EJ’s child, unbeknownst to him. But Nicole all angry, spiteful, and hurt, instead of normally mourning the loss together with her fiance and telling him of her discovery, blames Samantha and seeks to punish her enemy’s productiveness by stealing a baby as though it were money or a car, not an innocent life.
The soap opera scenario of baby switching is nothing new, but it questions the state of female ethics. Are we really so shallow and vain to be upset over a woman with an abundance of children and look down at our own empty bellies as a statement of unworthy shame? It doesn’t make us less healthy or less happy if we’re found to be barren, but Nicole saw her miscarriage meaning the end of her dreams–of a joy some viewers didn’t realize she wanted.
Nicole and Samantha became “friends” in the midst of Samantha grieving the death of a baby she thought was hers while Nicole greedily held onto Sydney, not wishing to let go of her marriage “security” and motherhood. I felt torn in this agonizing situation because, despite several traits these former enemies shared (such as sexual abuse and family disapproval), a friendship built on lies won’t last.

Samantha (Alison Sweeney) and Nicole (Arianne Zucker) are back to their public displays of violent affection.

Again in 2012, Nicole finds herself pregnant with another EJ baby, but out of spite, she decides to let another man play father–Rafe Hernandez, Samantha’s soon-to-be-ex-husband (spot a pattern here?). Nicole is farther along in this pregnancy when it’s gruesomely discovered that the baby has been dead inside her womb for weeks. Hit by another emotional bullet, devastation cuts painfully as the torturous dangling of motherhood waving in front of her like a piece of fish bait cruelly floats away. But she keeps this secret all to herself, curled up and bottled into a rage that she hurls against another woman–Jennifer Horton, mother of two and object of Nicole’s latest obsession, Dr. Daniel Jonas.

Nicole (Arianne Zucker) is about to receive devastating news on fate of second “miracle” baby.

Once the truth comes out about Nicole’s second miscarriage, embarrassed and guilt-ridden, she relives the agonizing suffering of losing another chance at motherhood. Coming to terms with barrenness, she is ultimately driven to suicidal infliction too painful to watch.
Days of Our Lives writers appeared to be Nicole’s biggest adversaries, judgmentally weaving a “how can we top that last terrible heartbreak for this evil woman who committed paltry crimes at best?” Horrific enough that she went through the tragedy of losing a baby once, but to push her into repeating that trauma in an astonishingly grotesque manner seemed much uncalled for and heinous. They made an example of out this Mary Magdalene pariah, promising miraculous motherhood twice and ripping it from her grasp, a condemnation for her tumultuously stormy past.
Nicole had changed an independent streak of fine drinks, men, and expense into fantasies of picket fences, mounted family picture frames, and false love–that is the fairy tale life every woman truly wants at the end of the day, right?
No. That cannot be farther from the truth.
There was always something amazingly addictive about spirited Nicole. She reveled in her own world, cared little for how others viewed her, and wasn’t hung up on family life until those two pregnancies came and went. Sure, she had been intimate with men she didn’t love, but it was hard swallowing her need to be an instant Kodak moment package deal to someone.
In one o’clock hourglass hour, Nicole is a cold, calculating vixen that viewers love to hate, but Zucker plays Nicole so ruthlessly, with so much fire and passion that it is virtually impossible to despise her forever.
Under God’s “roof,” Nicole (Arianne Zucker) is on her best behavior.

However, nowadays, Nicole Walker is a little different. Not quite a shell of her former self, she still has that witty humor and vivacious spark, but those two pregnancies, especially the last, have robbed her of a certain edgy caliber and transformed her into a woman attempting to be a good heroine for her latest desire–Father Eric Brady, Samantha’s twin brother (pattern? yes!). Underneath the surface of this seemingly reformed church secretary lie buried schemes, nasty wordplay, and wicked fantasies, but she has turned over a whole new leaf.
For now.

‘Days of Our Lives’: Soap Operas and Social Norms

“Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.”

(Slow, repetitive, and mesmerizing.)

While soap operas are often ignored (or recognized with an emphatic eye roll) by critics, one can look to them for the state of social norms in America.

Days of Our Lives, an NBC soap opera that has been on the air since 1965, has recently had two intertwining story arcs about homosexuality and abortion that mirror many current social conversations and “concerns.”

Will Horton’s gradual coming out as gay over the last couple of years was refreshing, since Days hadn’t been a bastion of realistic progressive tolerance over the years. It was difficult for him, and his parents (Sami and Lucas) reacted with shock and worked through their emotions on screen. I imagined mothers watching and commiserating with Sami’s fumbles, and listening to Will’s struggles as they experienced their own sons and daughters coming out. 

I also imagine that this normalization of homosexuality–not just in media, but more importantly, in people’s personal lives (as they personally know people who come out)–is the reason that support for gay marriage is at an all-time high. People’s stories help drive policy, and when those stories are in the form of fictional “stories,” mass audiences are introduced to progressive ideas. 

During Nov. 14’s episode, I watched with awe as Will and Sonny Kiriakis slept together. I again imagined audiences of moderate/conservative women being shocked (and maybe disturbed not by the scene itself, but by the fact that they might have found it really sexy).

Will, left, and Sonny.

At the same time, though, Gabi Hernandez is finding out that she is pregnant. Gabi and Will had been a couple before he fully realized his sexuality, and they’d had a one-night stand after a particularly traumatic event. Will is the father.

Gabi and Will decide, after much discussion, to terminate the pregnancy. I was nervous as the arc played out, because when Mimi Lockhart had chosen to get an abortion in 2004, she was rendered infertile and her boyfriend left her, clearly leaving the viewer with a message about abortion. 

Gabi interrupts Will and Sonny to tell Will about her pregnancy.

However, for the most part, the conversations that Gabi had during her decision process were reassuring, in regard to making reasonable, logical claims about wanting to finish school and be a mom someday, but not now. Will took a bit more convincing, but the subject was dealt with without judgment.

When he challenges her decision, she says, “Look, I told you I spent all night thinking about this–I’m straight, you’re gay, we’re students, I’m a waitress… What kind of life could we even give this baby?”

At one point, Will does ask about adoption. He asks if she’s thought about it and she says that she has, but her older brother, Rafe, and mother would want her to keep the baby. Will agreed that his parents would, too.

Gabi says, “I feel like the world would be a better place if it was filled with wanted children.”

Gabi’s decision-making process is mature and tempered. However, there is a backdrop of scheming knights-in-shining armor thinking they need to protect her. Sami tells Rafe and Nick (who they all believe to be the father), and the three manage to get into Gabi’s apartment, look at her computer and see the family planning website, do investigative work and even dig in her trash to find the clinic’s number. This contrast to Gabi’s independence is stark and troublesome.

Meanwhile, Gabi and Will are at the clinic together–it’s clean, and the nurses and doctor are kind and professional. 

The audience isn’t shown the sonogram, or anything to make us feel a certain way about what’s happening. 

Gabi, waiting for the doctor to perform the abortion.

While the procedure is supposedly taking place, Will starts to become unhinged in the waiting room, and Rafe, Sami and Nick show up. Gabi comes out of the exam room crying, and admits that she couldn’t go through with it. 

Thankfully, none of the men’s temper-fueled pressuring of the nurse to let them back to see Gabi and stop her worked. She came to the decision herself. 

When Will tells her he’d tried to get in there to stop it, Sami cuts in and says, “It’s not your place–it’s Gabi’s decision to make.” Throughout this entire story line, Sami has provided a voice of dissent to the men who are trying to make decisions for Gabi and treat her like she’s a child. (One could also point out that Sami was the reason they were meddling in the first place–but it’s also Sami.)

Gabi says, “I didn’t do it–you don’t understand–I tried to convince myself it was the best thing and I totally realized I was being horribly selfish.” 

While no one would want her to have had an abortion against her will, she sounds like a different person than she did just a few episodes prior. 

Rafe feels the need to protect her.

As of Monday’s episode, Nick has proposed marriage to Gabi (he wants them to raise the baby together), and Will and Sonny are in bed again (although Sonny doesn’t know about the pregnancy yet). 

On one hand, we can see this daytime TV story arc as a positive development in expanding the discussion of reproductive choice. Almost. Rafe and Nick’s (and Sami’s) outright invasion into Gabi’s privacy was abhorrent and not dealt with as such, and the post-clinic rhetoric about abortion was nowhere near as even-handed as the conversations prior, or the scenes with the clinic staff. However, the original conversations about raising wanted children and the positive portrayal of the clinic were refreshing. Gabi’s choice was Gabi’s choice; however, I’m not sure that point was actually made to the viewer who wasn’t desperately looking for it.

While support for gay rights has surged in recent years, support for abortion rights has stalled and in some polls, slid backward. I imagine that Gabi’s story is an analogy of that confusion of support and disdain, largely because unlike coming out as gay, women do not have the equivalent of “coming out” after choosing abortion. The stories–real and fictional–are essential to public perception.

Soap operas–although they are much maligned by audiences and critics–have long had an important role in social conversations. In 1964, NBC’s Another World introduced TV’s first abortion story. Their portrayals of gay sexuality have been remarkable in recent years. This genre of storytelling, though, gets very little attention on a critical scale. As the Museum of Broadcast Communication notes:


“Particularly in the United States, the connotation of ‘soap opera’ as a degraded cultural and aesthetic form is inextricably bound to the gendered nature of its appeals and of its target audience. The soap opera always has been a ‘woman’s’ genre, and, it has frequently been assumed (mainly by those who have never watched soap operas), of interest primarily or exclusively to uncultured working-class women with simple tastes and limited capacities. Thus the soap opera has been the most easily parodied of all broadcasting genres, and its presumed audience most easily stereotyped as the working-class ‘housewife’ who allows the dishes to pile up and the children to run amuck because of her ‘addiction’ to soap operas. Despite the fact that the soap opera is demonstrably one of the most narratively complex genres of television drama whose enjoyment requires considerable knowledge by its viewers, and despite the fact that its appeals for half a century have cut across social and demographic categories, the term continues to carry this sexist and classist baggage.”

These stories have weight, and our dismissal of them does reek of sexism and classicism. As Ebony Utley says in a Ms. Magazine blog post:

“As a feminist and proud soap-watcher, I’d argue that soaps are too often wrongly dismissed as sex-filled drivel. Feminists, in particular, should support the feminine values, diverse representations of women, social issues and global community promoted by daytime television’s fantasy worlds.Soap operas celebrate a private sphere controlled primarily by women who have agency. In it, intimacy, forgiveness, redemption, family, and community are honored.” 


These “stories” are important to our sense of self as a culture. Portraying two gay men having sex on network television in the middle of the day changes our conversations. Having characters discuss, at length, the pros and cons of choosing abortion and visiting an abortion clinic on network television in the middle of the day changes our conversations.

If we look closer at this genre, we see American culture and changing norms reflecting back at us.

(Alright, maybe American culture has fewer exorcisms, resurrections, body doubles and less baby-switching, amnesia and brainwashing. Maybe.)

—

Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.