September 1, 2002

There’s still something very wrong with General Hospital. Yes, the days of Megan McTavish and her extraneous sisters and defrosted psychos are over, but the show isn’t any better, it’s just different. While the death of Kristina has given Nancy Lee Grahn the best material she’s had in years, the show still has a stench of death about it. Jamie Ray Newman was a good young actress, she deserved a better send-off than yet another explosion at one of Sonny’s warehouses. Perhaps I wouldn’t be so peeved about her death, though, if it didn’t follow so closely on the horror that was Carly’s fake-death or Rick’s murder.

And that’s the one that really gets me. Rick Webber. Rick, mother-loving Webber. Now, he’s evil? Huh? And not only is he murdered, but Lucky and Nicholas spend a couple of episodes toting around his corpse? He’s Bernie? I guess I should be thankful they didn’t freeze him, but still. Rick Webber was the hero of this show for years. He was an adulterer, but at heart he was a decent man. He took in stray kids, was a good doctor, and genuinely loved both Monica and Leslie. Now he’s a punchline. Imagine if in 20 years, Josh Lewis turns out to be an evil philanderer or if Will and Abby spend three episodes carting Bo Brady’s corpse around. That’s how sacrefrickingligeous this plot is. And I’m not even getting into the various other wretched parts of the attic plot.

Death has to mean something. If a character dies if should be because the actor is leaving or has passed. Or it should be because the death of the character will cause long-lasting repercussions on other characters and stories for a long time to come. Killing a character for short-term gain, either in ratings or story, ultimately removes the audience from the show. If death is treated callously, why should we not treat the characters with the same remove? People die in real life, of course. Death is a part of life and a part of storytelling, but it’s a bell that cannot be unrung and must be treated delicately. This is especially important on General Hospital, where pretty much every member of the cast has been presumed dead at least once.

If new Head Writers Bob Guza and Charles Pratt want to see how to write a major character’s death, there are a few recent examples to follow. First among these was the recent mercy-killing of Richard on Guiding Light. First, the actor wanted off the show, so we have no guilt as viewers about someone being fired. Second, the character was given a lavish state funeral, providing the necessary gravitas and allowing every character on the show and member of the audience the opportunity to grieve the loss. Third, and most importantly, the story affects a huge portion of the canvas and has repercussions that will be felt for years to come.

Reva, and Kim Zimmer, have finally been given a grown-up story to play. Did she do the right thing in turning off Richard’s respirator? The show isn’t saying. We are allowed to decide for ourselves whether her action was right or wrong. The fact that she doesn’t know herself makes for great material.

Cassie has to deal with the loss, not only of her husband, but of her sister who she cannot forgive. She doesn’t just have to play the requisite soap opera grieving time, she gets to play anger. She has a motivation and thus an interesting story. And the storyline pulls in a dozen other major characters including, Ed, Rick, Mel, Marah, Edmund, Carmen, Michelle, Rick, Josh and Holly. Who does Kristina’s death affect? Alexis and Ned. It affected Sonny and Carly for a couple days there, too, but now they have other hokum to deal with.

Other shows have had varying degrees of success with deaths recently, too. A few have also stumbled, though not as horribly as GH. Jake and Bryant’s deaths are still affecting the people of As the World Turns. Using Jake’s murder as the catalyst for reconciliation between Isaac and Bonnie was a perfect example of how to do it the right way. Stefano’s death on Days is opening up huge story with nearly every player on the canvas impacted. And the people of B&B are still reeling from Macy’s death, and that happened over two years ago.

All of this was made doubly poignant with the death in real life of Josh Ryan Evans, who played Timmy on Passions. Evans was a unique performer and, with Juliet Mills as Tabitha, easily the best thing about James Reilly's show. The fact that his death at 20 years old occurred on the same day his character was killed is obviously nothing more than a morbid coincidence. But hearing subsequent reports that Timmy was to return from the dead in two months time only serves to point how callously soaps take death these days.

Death is an integral part of soap opera. When done at the right time, in the right way, the death of a major character can re-invigorate a show, or bring together an audience. But it’s a device which must be used sparingly and with care. Some of us are still talking about Jenny on her jet ski or B.J.’s heart. We won’t be doing the same with Kristina in ten years. But I have a feeling I will still be saying one thing in ten years: That was Rick fucking Webber.