I'm taking a break from my maudlin holiday self to discuss the incredibly silliness of melodrama. Perhaps that sentence strikes you as odd, but allow me to explain.

As I continue my watching of the great epic known as Beauty and the Beast I find that much of their trouble stems from their complete lack of imagination. Obviously in soap operas or melodramatic Friday night television shows a person must suspend disbelief and agree to accept a certain amount of emotional overload to enjoy it, but sometimes the way the show explains things is just silly.

This is not a new phenomena and, in actuality, this particular problem has haunted me through most of my life in books, movies, and television. I think, perhaps, that part of the reason I love the trashy romance novel so much is because they have to resolve all of the imposed silliness by the end of the book. Some examples of what I'm talking about are Vincent and Catherine's inability to go anywhere or do anything together in B & B, Rogue and Gambit's inability to do anything together in X-Men, Superman and Lois Lane's inability to be together while he is still "super". Basically it comes down to the lovers being unable to love due to some extreme situation that prevents them from being together.

Now in some situations this is more justified than others. For example, Rogue and Gambit can not touch skin to skin--that's a hassle. Vincent can not be caught by anyone who doesn't know him already, also a hassle. But my problem with these plot devices is that they are so obviously contrived. Anyone who has ever even dreamed of loving Superman knows that his superpowers have nothing to do with his ability to love or have sex with Lois Lane. The original cut of Superman II with the footage Richard Donner wanted in it does a much better job of setting of the situation, but the movie released in theatres is paltry in its explanation. He can't be with her and be super because...he can't? Fantastic argument, obviously you're correct. And anyone who has ever had sex with a bodybuilder knows that no matter how strong the man, it doesn't affect how he ejaculates--I throw that in there for the whole "super-sperm" argument.

Rogue and Gambit have a harder time as they must be careful never to touch skin to skin. To that I say walk into an adult porn shop, go online, do what you have to do, but get yourself a body suit and a box of condoms. He can wear gloves and so can she--it won't be skin to skin, but it's better than moping about how sorry they are they can't consummate their love. Is that solution really that difficult to imagine? And does it seem like such a bad solution to the particular problem presented? A little imagination, that's all I ask.

Vincent and Catherine don't even compare to the problems faced by the first two. Granted it is incredibly important that Vincent's anonymity be protected, but that can be done. People in the caverns argue against him "going above" because he might get caught. They're afraid he will never come back and he is a "beacon" to the community; they need him. He brings so much. Can you seriously tell me that if you had a friend who had to be kept secret you would deny him the chance to go outside--to see mountains and lakes and trees? Yes, he would need to be careful, no he couldn't be seen, but there are entire campgrounds that are empty at certain times of the year. Catherine is rich and can rent a house on a lake. Anyone who has ever visited one knows how private they can be, especially in the off season. He can be hidden in a van for travel. In the winter he can wear a ski-mask or scarf. She can come down to the tunnels all weekend and he can stay in her apartment over night sometimes. There is nothing keeping these two apart but bad writing and the social conservatism of 1987.

What is so frustrating is that many times the writing is so good in B & B, X-Men, and Superman. There are fantastic explanations for why things are the way they are. But when they want to provide a little drama, a reason for keeping the hero and heroine apart the explanations are reduced to idiocy and our characters are suddenly unable to conceive of any possible way to find happiness. It is at this point that I scream at the stars because I hate people who can't conceive of any possible way to find happiness. Those people drive me insane. And so when my favorite characters become those people I find myself trapped in a world of melodramatic inanity that ceases to be entertaining and becomes purely annoying.

This is my rant brought on by too much television, too much family, and holiday blues. But I feel it is important that I get this message out to the world. Some day one of you might find yourself in a position to talk to a script writer and you'll need to make sure and halt any silliness before it reaches production. One thing I've always loved about Joss Whedon is that he is always so believable. That makes his shows dramatically more difficult to watch sometimes--the pain is almost too real--but at least I never feel betrayed by my characters. They are what they are and that doesn't change because of need unrelated to the story.

I am going to talk about I Am Legend soon. I promise. I just needed to get this off my chest. I bid you good night.