J.R. Ewing is a Bastard, and I Love Him For It
I woke up this morning with the sun shining through my window. The birds were chirping and the weather was warm. It was that time of year again. I had neglected it for most of 2009, but now it was time to get back to Southfork. It was Dallas season baby!
I discovered Dallas last summer, after reading Steven Hyden’s blog post about its greatness. I had just graduated from college and was wandering aimlessly. Watching a 30-year old nighttime soap seemed like a perfectly worthwhile pastime. The first two episodes introduced me to the dysfunctional Ewing family pretty well, but I didn’t get hooked until the third episode.
J.R. Ewing’s beleaguered alcoholic wife Sue Ellen buys a skimpy negligee and puts it on when J.R. comes home, hoping to entice him. J.R. calls the display “trashy,” and tells his wife to put some damn clothes on. In one of the greatest monologues in television history, Sue Ellen (played by Linda Gray, in full dinner theatre Blanche Dubois mode) says,
“J.R., YOU NEVAH MAKE LOVE TO ME ANYMORE!”
I became a full-blown addict after that display. As the season went on, the webs became more tangled. The Ewing Family was taken hostage by a psychotic Brian Dennehy, who forced Sue Ellen to put on her Miss Texas banner and sing Barbara Striesand’s “People.” A drunken J.R. pushed Bobby Ewing’s pregnant wife Pamela off the hayloft, causing her to miscarry. Long lost Ewing son Gary comes back, only to be driven away by J.R’s conniving ways. Family patriarch Jock Ewing had a heart attack, and Bobby and J.R. start jockeying (pun intended) for power.
In his blog post, Hyden proclaims that Dallas is in need of a Battlestar Galactica-like update. Add me to that contingent. Hyden wrote the blog before the economy went bust, but I think a new Dallas would work spectacularly well in these troubled times. People already watch The Hills, which is basically the same thing. The only difference is that J.R. is actually evil, while Spencer Pratt is just a douche.
Besides the Machiavellian backstabbing, sleazy affairs and heroic cocktail intake, there is a rich untapped vein of kitsch that runs through the whole series. The Ewings live in a world where everything is brown or puke green. The men all have immaculately crafted Ken doll hair, while the women have cascading layers of Farrah. If you haven’t seen Patrick Duffy get funky to a disco version of the theme song, then brother, you haven’t lived.
Dallas has no redeeming social value, unless you count the episodes where social issues are awkwardly inserted. There is no depth to the characters that inhabit Southfork, they are all just archetypes. J.R. is a bad guy, plain and simple. He doesn’t need to see a psychiatrist to work out his guilt over screwing Willie Orloff out of millions of dollars. The only character that needs depth is Bobby. His goody-goody act gets stale pretty quickly, but J.R. needs someone to fight with. J.R.’s fights with Sue Ellen are much better. They are juicier and usually involve some kind of underwear. Sue Ellen sulks away and ingests a fifth of vodka, as eyeliner runs down her face in thick black rivers.
To quote Mr. Hyden, Dallas is soap opera heroin. If you’ll excuse me, I need another fix.
