An Issue of Tone
For so very long, the sight of Luke Spencer had me rolling my eyes completely involuntarily because I knew--I just knew!--that there would be some sort of "wacky" and "hilarious" shenanigans and that the poor scenery ran the risk of being eaten or covered in spittle following a particularly vigorous outburst of hamminess.
But the past few months have showcased a stunningly dark Luke. He killed Jake. He has been told, time and again, that he has a drinking problem and was forced to sit through a sad, albeit compelling, intervention. He screamed at Lulu in a fit of rage. And all of this was, frankly, horrible to watch: the man hit the rockiest of rocky bottoms.
And then. AND THEN! In rehab! This happened (please don't interpret my multiple exclamation points as exclamations of excitement, or joy; it's more shrill, Helen Lovejoy hysteria!)! (!)
Welcome, Mr. Spencer.
Buy you a drink?
I swear to you all: if this is played for laughs, as I so fear that it will be, and the show's godforsaken twinkly music, GH's aural shorthand for "This is so hilarious! OMG! The hijinks! Laugh at the hijinks, monkey, laugh!", starts to play, I...I will scream at the top of my lungs, which none of you will hear, but please know that I will do it. Because REALLY. "Luke killing Jake was horrible until now, when it has suddenly become really funny"?
I mean, I could be working myself up into a lather over nothing, but let's be real: shifting abruptly and horrifically in tone is one of the few things this writing staff is good at.
Programming note: sorry for the lack of posting this week! I have been busy doing glamorous things* and fell behind on soaps and posting, but I should get back posting lengthy and often unintelligible rants soon.
*Lie: I spent much of the week at BookExpoAmerica which is many things (nerdy and awesome chief among them) but is not glamorous.