Free to a Good Home

"Pick one!"

I heard this a lot growing up. My mother had a rule at dinner time that we could only have one dessert. The problem was while my mother is an ok cook she's an awesome baker. Cookies, cakes, puddings... While dinner was fine, dessert was magnificent. Please don’t tell my mother I said that. I would still like those options in the near future. After dinner, I had to make a choice such as one fateful night when I had to choose between a large oatmeal cookie or a slice of sour cherry pie.

Both were (and still are) mouthwatering options, and I finally chose the cookie which was the size of my hand. However, there was a problem. The choice tainted my enjoyment of the dessert, because while munching on my oatmeal cookie I kept wondering about the sour cherry pie that was making my dad grin happily.

But I had to choose, because I could not have both and not having any dessert was a foreign concept until college and the freshmen fifteen.

Now let's talk Grey's.

Grey's Anatomy loves romantic triangles as much as Cristina loves hearts defects in orphans, but unlike Cristina's ability to fix ugly cardio issues in cute babies, Grey's does not do well with setting up love triangles. My argument for you this week is that we have only seen the triangle played out well twice on the show, and with one being substantially better than the other. Then, we'll compare those two with a typical Grey's triangle and why it doesn't work.

The purpose and story infrastructure of a romantic triangle

Let's define some terms. The “romantic triangle” I am referring to is the introduction two viable love prospects in a situation where a character may only have one. A character must choose one prospect over the other or reject the advances of both. The purpose for the triangle storyline in most character-driven scripts is to create a high level of drama without external interference (i.e. catastrophic natural disasters). In other words, viewers can only accept so many plane crashes, sinkholes, and shootings before they begin to reject the show's illusion of reality. Once it loses the illusion, the writer must either increase the external drama or risk stagnation. Grey's is very much at risk for this, but that is an article for another day when I have more vodka.

I need to stress that the triangle has to be visible to the audience but not necessarily the characters. For example, Jo may not know that she is in a triangle during the second half of S9, but the viewer knows. Meredith is not in a triangle with Addison and Derek during S1 because the viewer is unaware of the fabulousness that will be rocking the set at the season finale. In all of the emotional stress available to us at Shondaland, there’s a risk of forgetting that we are watching a 2D projection of images moving at 30 frames per second. The characters are not real; thus it is up to the cast and crew to fool us into believing they are real. Without viewers, Meredith Grey’s plight to become a surgeon would not exist. Remember that as we look at the laws of triangles. Everything on your screen is designed to fool your heart, gentle reader. Everything. The patients are not real. The cases are not real. You, however, are. You have real emotions, and the show does a great job of playing with your heartstrings like David on his harp. The better the show the more they use the entire screen to draw you into the illusion. Got that? Ok, let’s look at the laws.

The mechanics of a successful triangle are simple in theory but difficult in execution. I’ve narrowed it down to three broad laws or concepts.

The First Law of Triangles: A triangle works when the rivals have equal chances.

For a triangle to work, both contenders for a character's affections must have an equal chance at winning that character’s affections. This means to the viewer both of the rivals would be acceptable for the character to choose. One rival should not have an advantage over the other contestant (AKA “plot armor”). This point is hard for any writer to pull this off successfully, and I'm including the writers for Grey's and fanfiction writers. It's in our cultural genetics to root for the underdog which is the plot of most feel-good sport movies. You've all seen these types of movies at one time or another. Local Sports Team is horrible and in danger of disbanding. Then, they train really hard/ something weird happens/magic. With amazing heroics and a kickin’ montage, they beat the big, evil favorites. Don't believe me? Here, I have some films for you to watch: Rookie of the Year, Dodgeball, Rocky IV, The Mighty Ducks, The Replacements, Hoosiers, and Happy Gilmore. I love these films, but do we really think that the Flying V isn't going to work at the last second? While the underdog approach makes a good film it doesn't necessarily make a great film. Rudy never plays in the NFL. Apollo Creed wins the decision against Rocky Balboa in the first Rocky. However, Rocky is the classic and Rocky IV is just a good one. For a great love triangle to happen, the writer should not project the winner to the viewer before the battle is fought. Feel-good plots reinforce the viewer's expectations; great plots challenge the expectations and at least make the viewer doubt them.

The Second Law of Triangles: A triangle works when it moves the plot along.

This is crucial and yet so overlooked by many shows. A triangle is an intensely personal drama. It certainly has movement but in a way that a whirlpool has movement. There's lots of action, but it's not necessarily going anywhere. If the screenwriter is willing to focus on the triangle as the main crisis-resolution arc of the plot, it works, but if the triangle is happening inside of a larger crisis-resolution arc, it damages the overall storytelling. The vortex of swirling emotions within a triangle distracts the viewer from the larger story and demands time away from it. Every storyline must submit to the thesis of the season, and a selfish plot triangle threatens that precious continuity.

The Third Law of Triangles: A triangle works when it is resolved as a win-loss.

If the first and second laws are ruthlessly obeyed, the third law should be a natural consequence. What this means is that the resolution is unpredictable and bittersweet. The joy of the final couple’s resolution should be equal to the viewer's sense of loss that the decision creates for the losing rival. The audience's equal feelings of triumph and defeat is the proper emotional result for a triangle set in a drama. Anything less is saccharine and worse yet boring. Boring is the unpardonable sin of storytelling.

With those rules in play, let's look at some triangles in the Grey's Anatomy universe.

The Golden Triangle: Meredith-Addison-Derek S1-S2-S3

The finale of season one and moving into season two demonstrates the power of a triangle done well, but we need to dissect it to identify why it still grips viewer after all these years.

A triangle works when the rivals have equal chances.

This is the lone example of Grey's pulling this off successfully, and it's not a coincidence that this triangle is before pre-MFEO/meant-to-be style thinking appeared on the scene. Addison's sudden appearance and bombshell shook the viewers' belief that McDreamy was Meredith's McDreamComeTrue.

The characterization of Addison helped this triangle immensely. This was not a random woman who appears on the scene fighting for Derek's affections; instead she feels like an incumbent candidate. As her story of cheating and neglect unfold, viewers cannot help but sympathize with her and the what-might have-beens questions. When she defends Meredith to a patient, we find ourselves sympathizing even empathizing with her. When Derek and Addison reconnect in the trailer, you almost forgot Meredith was a contender for Derek. This is a sign of a good triangle, because by the end of S2 the story convinces us that had Meredith not been there, Addison and Derek could have repaired their relationship and that would have been just fine. Even the hardest MerDer shipper (Her name is Pam Fier) had to acknowledge that Addison and Derek was a legitimate possibly at one point.

This equal characterization is not just a good story arc for Grey's, but it's good storytelling in general which leads us to the next point.  

A triangle works when it moves the plot along.

Before buses started hitting main characters, Grey’s was an intensely character-driven drama. Meredith was the center of the show’s universe, and her quest for McDreamy became the show’s quest too. The swirling vortex that was the Meredith-Addison- Derek triangle was the main plot of the show with subplots that all related back to it.

A triangle works when it is resolved as a win-loss.

When Derek picked Meredith, chose Meredith, and loved Meredith, we all felt for Addison. She tried. She even tried to move on, but she lost. The loss was heartbreaking enough that the only solution for her was to start over in a new locale. It was a win for the audience, but the win came at a great price.  

The Good Triangle: Meredith-Rose-Derek S4

Season four is probably the most underrated Grey’s season. It’s not that we actively ignore it, we just tend to forget it in the midst of the writer’s strike. However, if you’ve only see it once, do yourself a favor and stick it in your Netflix queue. Its tight writing and characterization holds it together in a great season. In the thick bog of drama that is Meredith at her darkest and twistiest, Derek runs into Rose the scrub nurse. Starting off an ok triangle that lacked the original punch of the Golden Triangle.

A triangle works when the rivals have equal chances.

Raise your hand if you thought Rose had a chance. Ok, you two in the back row? Yeah, y’all. I’ve got an email from a long lost cousin in Nigeria you might be interested in. He needs your bank account numbers. Yes, he needs them again. Seriously, even John Milton could see who would win this one, and he’s dead! This was probably the biggest story issue, because it’s no mystery if Derek and Meredith would reunite. It was only a matter of time. This led to a feeling of filler, because it felt like they were treading water until the season finale and the reunion.

A triangle works when it moves the plot along.

However, the triangle did push the plot which was still an interpersonal plot. Meredith needed something to force her to acknowledge her inner demons and deal with Lexie. Derek also needed to know that Meredith was the only one who could satisfy him. It had a job to do which was to make Meredith and Derek better people apart so that they could become a stronger couple together.

A triangle works when it is resolved as a win-loss.

I thought that S4-S5 did this well. Rose goes a little stabby in the OR as a reaction, but we feel for her due to the way Lauren Stamile gently portrays the nurse. She’s not evil. She’s a good person, but she is used as a placeholder until Meredith matures. Thankfully, she fades out of Derek’s OR and out of the show altogether, and thus we can forget her pain and see only the MerDer. It works, because it serves a purpose. Yet, we lose something in the drama. We drum our fingers waiting for Rose to leave, because that is our signal that MerDer is back on. It almost feels like waiting at a railroad crossing as the guardrail is down and the lights are blinking. Instead of enjoying the power of the train, we resent its presence because it is blocking our intended route.

Too Many Triangles: April-Matt-Jackson-Stephanie S8-S9-S10

In late season eight, an odd ship appeared on the horizon. We called it Japril. April giving her virginity to her best friend while under stress opened up so many story possibilities in season nine. Crisis of faith and recovering from failure are just a few themes that would have mirrored the main theme of recovering from tragedy beautifully. We didn’t, and their storylines suffered due to the writers’ insistence to play April as a clown. Instead of backing away from this ship to flesh out the rest of April and Jackson’s characters separately, the writers then doubled down by giving us double the triangle. Matt-April-Jackson layered with Steph-Jackson-April. More triangles does not make better triangles. In fact, it does the opposite. Triangles are require screen time and even more energy, and their energy comes from the strength of the relationships. It sucked the momentum out of a already dragging season. 

Ghost Triangles: Callie-Arizona-(Random Cameo) S11-S12

Ghost Triangles are actually lines pretending to be a triangle by propping up weak contender as a third member. Maybe Penny will change this, but until either Arizona or Callie gets a significant other who is treated as more than a place holder, we’re stuck with ghost triangles. 

Heaven help us.

Conclusion

“Now, Sam!” I hear you in back yell. “Don’t hate on our characters.”

Gentle readers, I do not hate any of the characters (with the exception of Sadie); I do hate how some of them are being used because it seems that need something to justify them on the show. Wasn’t there another way to bring her to Meredith’s table without being attached to Callie? 

A triangle works when the rivals have equal chances.

A triangle works when it moves the plot along.

A triangle works when it is resolved as a win-loss.

(Originally posted at GreysGabble)

“The skill of setting is crucial to every team’s success. The ability to attack and score points effectively corresponds to a player’s ability to deliver a ball that is expected and located at the point the attacker wants it.”

-Sean Byron, Assistant Men’s Volleyball Coach, Ohio State University

The Unsung Importance of Episode Twenty-Two

A long time ago, I played volleyball. Well, ‘attempted’ would be better verb for the action performed. Bumping and diving into skin-eating gym floors I could do with wild abandon, but spiking was a different story. I still have nightmares of my little finger catching in the net after one disastrous followthrough. Unfortunately, if you couldn’t spike, my coach had players who could. This is how I found myself playing the elite position known as “bench.” Determined to get off the pine, I decided to try the setter position because 1) I wouldn’t have to risk net injuries that made my hands look like Lady Macbeth’s and 2) it looked easy.

It wasn’t.

It looked easy, because the senior playing in the position was very good at it. While it looked like she was popping the ball randomly in the air, what she was actually doing was making split-second decisions about placement, speed, and timing. While I eventually retreated from volleyball to sports low to the ground, I learned to respect the setter, because the spike can only be as good as the set.

Now, let’s talk Grey’s.

Grey’s Anatomy has had it share of ‘spike’ episodes. We get them during sweeps week and season finales. They are LVAD wires, ripped eyebrows, cement blocks, buses, shootings, plane crashes, and Lord knows what else! As much as you may have hated Izzie, you still grabbed the tissues and the pause button as you sobbed with her over Denny’s lifeless figure. Likewise, you blubbered like a child as Lexie asked Mark to hold her hand as she bravely faced the inevitable. When Rhimes spikes, she hits hard sending your heart lurching while it tries to defend the last shreds of your dignity. It’s ok. Cry. Your dog doesn’t judge you.

Just as the strength and the accuracy of a spike in volleyball are entirely dependent on the setter, the gut-shot of a Grey's Anatomy finale is entirely dependent on the lowly episode twenty-two. For seasons that weren’t twenty-four episodes long, this is the third to last episode, but it still functions as what I’m going to call a ‘22.’ My argument for you to consider is that the emotional magnitude of those season finales was the result of the ground work laid out in the episode twenty-two. I want to look at two examples where we see 22 used effectively against one where it wasn’t. Then, we’ll look at what 9.22 needs to have happen for it to be successful.

Season 5.22 “What a Difference a Day Makes,” Written by Shonda Rhimes

When Shonda Rhimes decides to write any episode, you pay attention to the details. When she decides to write a 22, you grab a magnifying glass. One thing about Shonda's scripts is that they are much more detailed than many other shows' scripts. Stage directions, character emotions, props, sometimes lighting and character backgrounds are dictated in the script, and 5.22 is not an exception. I love how this episode starts with Izzie’s raspy voice set against a muted background view of her battling cancer in a hospital bed. Visually, she is alone fighting the battle of her life.

“You never know the biggest day of your life is going to be the biggest. The days you think are going to be big ones, they’re never as big as you make them out to be in your head. It’s the regular days, the ones that start out normal. Those are the days that end up being the biggest.”

Season five is a fan favorite for a reason. Even though it had jarring staff changes (e.g. Hahn, Harris, Altman, Hunt, and Robbins), the season navigated through them gracefully, because the season had an overarching theme. With an overarching theme, or thesis if you will, characters can come and go as long as the theme is supported. Season five’s theme was how to walk tall when life deals a devastating blow. Webber’s hospital drops out of elite status in the surgeon school rankings, Callie strikes out in her first post-George relationship, George seems lost, Owen loses his 5.1 badassness to PTSD, Izzie has better hallucination sex than most of us have real sex, and many more. However, these are individual battles that are held together by a common place of occupation, yet they bear the same isolating pressure.

In this 22, most of these painful individual struggles earn a resolution or at least the nod that a resolution is coming. We are also given a foreshadowing of what is coming in the finale. The episode starts with a hint of the wedding with a wedding dress we assume is on Meredith, and then it quickly shifts to earlier that day when Callie's “slow” ER gets swamped with college kids from a car wreck. By the end of the episode, George finds his calling in trauma and a respect for the military, Callie gets honest with Arizona and breaks a bottle of champagne on the ship Calzona, Owen gets honest and Cristina hammers a fan onto the Crowen ship, and Alex marries Izzie. The wedding is big from a cinematographic standpoint. Sweeping camera shots and drastic changes from far shots to close ups gives the viewer a grand feeling and vision of the wedding as Ingrid Michaelson’s large major chords in Turn to Stone support the assumption. The episode has a finale feel and resolves many of the season’s storylines, but you know that Izzie’s fight is not done yet.

A good 22 narrows the storylines for the finale to address. Like a setter floating the volleyball to the exact place she wants her power player to spike, 22 resolves the minor storylines, which gives the audience a measure of satisfaction, but not enough to let them settle. 5.22 sets up Izzie’s fight for her life with the viewer having the grim expectation that Heigl’s character would be dead before Season 6.

“But, Sam,” you bellow like a drugged Meredith. “What about George? Are you saying that 5.22 prepared us for George?”

I’m glad you asked, gentle reader, because I am arguing just that. Look at Izzie’s first words of 5.22 (“You never know the biggest day of your life is going to be the biggest”) and look at the patients in the Pit (car crash). Top that off with Hunt’s assessment of trauma being a team sport to a lost George, and we get the army subplot for the finale to handle. However, the finale is free to take on Izzie and George’s storylines as driving plots because every other storyline has had a resolution. Otherwise, it would risk a distracted focus. Leaving the finale to resolve all the season's major themes/conflicts in forty-two or maybe eighty-four minutes is like giving a three year old cocaine and telling them to take a nap. Good luck with that.

We’re able to shrink the job functions for 22 into three major jobs.

A needs checklist for 5.22:

Does it continue the season theme/thesis?

           Yep.

Does it narrow the storylines for the finale to address?

           Yep.

Is the finale foreshadowed?

          Yep.

Let’s see if this list stays consistent in another good 22.

Season 6.22 “Shiny Happy People,” Written by Zoanne Clack & Peter Nowalk

This season has an underlying main theme which is the fall and redemption of Richard Webber. We see Richard’s alcoholism rip apart his thirty year work as he is forced into rehab. In the triumphant season finale, Richard charges into the locked-down hospital and convinces Gary Clark to put his last bullet into the shooter’s own head. He is fearless as he protects his hospital and staff from the ultimate violation of sanctuary. However, in episode 6.22, he barely makes it on the screen. The screen time is drastically lower than his normal screen time, but this is done to close or narrow the side stories and make his scene with Gary even more potent. It’s like reducing orange juice into concentrate. Taking Richard out of the main action frees up time to close the tiny plots in 6.22 which gives 6.23-24 time to be epic and focus on the main thematic resolution.

Smaller plots such as the Bailey/Ben stability question are put to rest whereas others are forced to narrow. For example, Owen is forced to make a decision about Cristina and Teddy. Callie’s elderly patients force her to sum up all of her issues with Arizona into one decision (“I wish she would change her mind.”). For Crowen and Calzona, their complex problems become simple if/then decisions. If Arizona changes her mind, then Callie will latch onto her like a mosquito to a kid at summer camp. If Cristina moves in with Owen, then he will recognize her commitment to him. It also makes Lexie’s sexy circle a clear triangle decision. She can either choose Alex the boyfriend or Mark the husband. The season-long character explorations are narrowed into objective and observable decisions. In other words, 6.22 pops up the perfect set as 6.23-24 force the characters to make and act on those decisions. If we had not heard the roguish Mark declare his willingness to marry Lexie, would Lexie’s crying her love for Alex still carry the emotional weight? If Callie hadn’t been faced with a woman who made the “right choice” once but longed for the “wrong one,” would she be willing to let go of her dream of children to call out to Arizona in the parking lot and trigger Arizona’s decision?

Let’s return to the checklist and see if 6.22 follows it.  

Does it continue the season theme/thesis?

        Inadvertently. It hides Richard, but shows him recovered from his illness.  

Does it narrow the storylines for the finale to address?

        Oh yes! Plus, Reed gets a ride on the pro before going out with a bang.  

Is the finale foreshadowed?

          Yes, in a way that you know an outside force is needed for these decisions to be made.

"But, Sam! Those were good seasons! You're cherry-picking your arguments!"

Gentle reader, when a season has an overarching theme that it patiently drives all the way to the finale, a good 22 can be found. When a season loses its theme or focus, disaster awaits. So, let's look at a disaster of a 22.

Season 7.20 “White Wedding,” Written by Stacy McKee

I should probably duck and cover at this point and say that I am not referring to events that happen to certain ships in 7.20 as a disaster (but I could). Rather, I’m asking how does the episode fit into an entire season. Yes, this episode is a disaster if you look at it as a part of a whole.

The thrust of the episode is the Torres-Robbins wedding and their setbacks with family members and outside circumstances. We could discuss the disturbing nature of the proposal or Rhimes's determination to have a musical episode, but frankly I don't have the Xanax for that conversation at the moment. Instead, let's look at the overarching themes and see where this episode fits. Season seven should have been what season nine is: a gradual march of recovery and reconnection. The season finale of six is one of the best episodes on television from the camera work to the editing, and I am not using that statement hyperbolically. It is as well-made as it is gut-wrenching. A Calzona wedding as the result of shared recovery would have been beautiful closure on the Clark tragedy. Sofia’s arrival would have been a beautiful metaphor of life growing out of the mire of death. But, alas, that is not what we get.  

Episode 7.1 & 7.2 picks up where the characters left off from the S6 finale and is a flawless transition as Lexie speaks for the group through a chilling speech in a manner reminiscent to Yang in a bathtub two seasons later. It sets a tone of recovery, and the theme of how do you pick up the pieces when your sanctuary has been destroyed powerfully demonstrates the staggered stages through each character. Calzona also make their consistent transition as Arizona agrees to move in, and Crowen takes a leap of faith and ties the knot. They are pulling their lives back together with the glue and tape available.

Then, something strange happens. When characters get their OR oks from Teddy's bedfellow, it’s as if they are released from the theme to pursue unthematic plots. They brush off the effects of the shooting, dust themselves off, and move thematically in separate directions. This is why Cristina’s PTSD arc feels so long and Arizona’s depression arc in S9 doesn’t. By the time Cristina has her fish moment, everyone else has had theirs at least two episodes ago. Whereas Arizona’s depression and anger are happening while the other survivors continue to struggle with the consequences of the crash, albeit in different ways.

The wedding in 7.20 is less a closure for the shootings and more of a resolution of the ‘Arizona bails’ subplot. By the time we get to the wedding, the shooting is a distant memory and not the event that had enough force to make stubborn Arizona change her mind. Sadly, the wedding itself is the star of 7.20, and it leaves the task of setting up a season finish to 7.21. I would argue that the reason that 7.21 feels so rushed and chaotic with giant suspensions of reality needed is because it got a rotten set.  

Let’s look at the checklist:

Does it continue the season theme/thesis?

No. The wedding does close a minor storyline, yet it does not resolve the conflicting relationship between the characters.

Does it narrow the storylines for the finale to address?

No. Even with the wedding, Calzonark/Slexie/Crowen still remains strained and unresolved.

Is the finale foreshadowed?

Maybe? I guess you could say that a happy MerDer is a good clue that something will drive them apart.

When I found out that Dan Bucatinsky was the head writer for 9.22, I got very excited and then very nervous. This will be his first time as the lead writer of a Shondaland script, but he has worked tirelessly in the writers’ room on Scandal and spent the whole S9 writing with the Grey’s crew. Rhimes trusts him. Rhimes trusts him enough to give him a 22. No pressure, Dan.

Going from what we know makes a good 22, what can we expect for Bucatinsky?

It continues the season theme/thesis.

The strength and gift of S9 so far has been its unrelenting pursuit of a theme: the search for light in the shadow of death. Bucatinsky needs to push the theme closer to its resolution.

It narrows the storylines for the finale to address.

In some ways, 9.22 needs to be a pay-off episode to put to bed minor storylines. A good example is the Jackson-April-Grumpy-Matt romantic square. None of these characters were in the plane crash, and only one of them was in the previous season. Let’s get an Ingrid Michaelson/Katie Herzig song playing over Japril making out and move on. Even Jolex needs to be put to bed (maybe literally) in this episode. Alex has played a secondary character all season, so he needs to be treated like one in 9.22. Give him his pay-off episode, throw in a heartfelt apology from Arizona, and move on. McBaby might fall here too depending on how 9.18-21 go.

The finale is foreshadowed.

Will it be a massive board fight that ends in a vote of no confidence? Will Jackson oust his mother? Too early to say at this point, but not too early to say that the character directions should be clear.

Can Bucatinsky do this? From what I’ve seen from Scandal, I say yes. Can Kevin McKidd direct a good 22. The man loves his symbolism, and thus I think he can subtly carry the theme through the episode.

Am I sure of this?  Absolutely not. So let’s cross our fingers and close our eyes as Bucatinsky sets the finale for Rhimes’s spike.