Annie Berke’s review of Elana Levine’s “Her Stories: Daytime Soap Opera and US Television History” delves into the significance of a pivotal genre and its devoted fanbase, highlighting the contributions of Guiding Light soap opera actors and others in shaping television history.
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Elana Levine’s “Her Stories: Daytime Soap Opera and US Television History” book cover, showcasing the depth of daytime television narrative.
In her insightful review, Annie Berke reflects on her summer internship at Guiding Light, a cornerstone of American daytime soap operas (CBS, 1952-2009), to introduce Elana Levine’s compelling book, Her Stories: Daytime Soap Opera and US Television History. Berke’s personal anecdote of managing the show’s script loglines, “The Binder,” underscores the intricate histories and character relationships that define the soap opera world. This experience provides a unique vantage point from which to appreciate Levine’s scholarly yet passionate exploration of the genre, particularly regarding the actors who brought these stories to life. The daily life in the Guiding Light writing office, far from the on-screen drama, mirrored a workplace sitcom, with actors frequently visiting, blurring the lines between their roles and real personalities, a testament to the immersive world of daytime television and the actors who inhabit it.
Berke’s initial reluctance to engage with angry fan calls during her internship highlights a crucial question Levine addresses: to whom do soap operas truly belong? This question of ownership and identity has been central to the genre’s evolution, constantly battling to define itself aesthetically, narratively, and culturally. From navigating progressive versus retrograde ideologies to deciding between domestic realism and heightened melodrama, soap operas have always been at a crossroads. The network perspective further complicates this, viewing soaps as either lucrative assets or financial burdens. However, Levine’s book, as Berke points out, emphasizes that soap operas fundamentally belong to their dedicated fans. These viewers possess an encyclopedic knowledge, far surpassing any office binder, proving their deep connection to the intricate storylines and the actors who embody them. Levine’s book emerges as a tribute to this enduring relationship, acknowledging the fans as the ultimate keepers of soap opera history and the legacy of Guiding Light soap opera actors and their peers.
Levine, in a May 2020 Zoom discussion about Her Stories, openly acknowledged writing for both academic historians and passionate fans, recognizing the latter as her most discerning critics. This dual audience reflects Levine’s own position as both scholar and fan, a perspective evident in the vibrant and engaging narrative of Her Stories. The book builds upon Levine’s previous works, which have explored television’s journey toward art-form status, its engagement with identity politics and sexual norms, and the complex dynamics between popular culture and female audiences. In Her Stories, Levine elevates soap operas, arguing that they are not merely entertainment but are integral to understanding television history and, by extension, American cultural history. She posits that soap operas reflect the evolving conflicts and character of American society from the mid-20th century to the present day. Levine’s assertion, “For soap opera, the past always matters, bearing upon the present and shaping the future,” underscores the genre’s unique temporal depth and the importance of understanding its history, a history populated by memorable Guiding Light soap opera actors and countless others.
While soap operas evolved from radio dramas, they uniquely established a visual language for daytime drama. Early soap operas, though visually rudimentary by today’s standards, pioneered storytelling through sound and image. Certain cinematographic techniques from the 1950s, particularly the close-up, remain fundamental. Soap writers Frank and Anne Hummert famously called the close-up “God’s gift to the small screen of television,” emphasizing its power to depict the inner lives of characters, particularly the American housewife. Techniques like close-ups and mirror reflections, often born from budgetary limitations, became stylistic signatures. Levine highlights how production constraints, such as actors being written off due to contract disputes, ironically shaped narrative choices. The economic model of soap operas, demanding profitability with minimal investment, has been a constant, influencing both storytelling and the portrayal of Guiding Light soap opera actors and their characters.
Viewers deeply identified with soap opera narratives, seeking guidance in navigating work-family balance, intergenerational relationships, and evolving romantic partnerships. Irna Phillips, a soap opera pioneer whose work includes Guiding Light and Another World, is prominently featured in Levine’s analysis. Phillips gave voice to the ideological tensions surrounding postwar femininity, exploring and yet challenging the burgeoning second-wave feminism. Levine argues that Phillips’ shows “contradictorily exposed the trauma of the very gendered ideals of traditional marriage and family life that she sought to uphold.” This contradiction reflects the complex social landscape that Guiding Light soap opera actors and their contemporaries navigated on screen.
Soap operas were not only financially vital to networks during the classic network era (1950s-1980s) but also served as a creative testing ground for television production techniques. Their use of interwoven storylines and “multiple planes of staging” influenced primetime programming, from British miniseries to 1970s action series and nighttime melodramas like Peyton Place. This era saw genre hybridization flourish in soaps, incorporating gothic, mystery, and romantic comedy elements, as seen in Dark Shadows, The Edge of Night, and The Doctors. As networks gained creative and financial control, soap operas became, in Levine’s words, “the engine that powered the classic network era,” providing platforms for countless Guiding Light soap opera actors and others to hone their craft.
Levine further examines the often-contradictory “social issue storytelling” in soap operas. Showrunners like Agnes Nixon, known for All My Children and One Life to Live, favored “cautious, tolerant liberalism” over overtly activist storylines. Global conflicts like the Vietnam War were often translated into interpersonal family dramas. While shows might reinforce conventional values, audience reception was not always aligned. During these years, soaps leaned conservative, but viewers, particularly queer and feminist audiences, often interpreted them subversively, finding camp value and identifying with villainous characters. Erica Kane’s (Susan Lucci) 1971 abortion storyline in All My Children is a prime example, portraying a complex character who was both flawed and admirable. Soap actresses of the 1970s, like the characters they portrayed, balanced professional ambition and personal lives. Masculinity in soaps also became multifaceted, featuring not only traditional tough guys but also sensitive, brooding heroes, expanding the range of roles available for Guiding Light soap opera actors and male performers across the genre.
The 1980s peak in soap opera popularity, marked by the rise of supercouples like General Hospital‘s Luke and Laura, ironically signaled a shift away from social relevance toward storylines focused on female desire, often divorced from broader social context. While ratings soared, this trend indicated a move away from the issues that had initially grounded the genre. The “supercouple” phenomenon, while a ratings success, also suggested a simplification of complex social issues, implying that personal relationships could overcome systemic inequalities.
A critical misstep by the industry was its misunderstanding of its evolving audience. The advent of VCRs brought new viewers seeking “hip and legitimated kind of trash,” but networks, aiming for wealthier demographics to attract high-paying advertisers, began to sideline working-class, Black, and gay audiences who had long been the genre’s core. Changes like location shooting and pop music montages were introduced, inadvertently alienating the loyal fanbase that had sustained soap operas and appreciated the talents of Guiding Light soap opera actors and their colleagues for decades.
Between 2003 and 2012, six soap operas were cancelled, including Guiding Light in 2009, marking a significant decline. The rise of time-shifted viewing and new television formats led to uncertainty in audience measurement, and advertisers made pessimistic assumptions about soap opera viewership, often rooted in stereotypical views of women’s needs. However, Levine argues that ratings alone do not define artistic merit. Despite institutional pressures, soap operas continued to experiment creatively. Shows like Passions and bizarre storylines on Days of Our Lives exemplified this, pushing boundaries and embracing the supernatural. This experimentation, while appearing unconventional, was, in fact, a return to earlier forms of genre hybridization that had always been part of soap opera history.
Contemporary soaps, even in upheaval, demonstrated a deep engagement with their past. Shows like General Hospital and All My Children revisited classic characters and storylines, offering fresh perspectives. General Hospital re-examined the controversial origins of Luke and Laura’s relationship, focusing on Luke’s accountability and Laura’s long-suppressed trauma. All My Children‘s “un-abortion” storyline revisited Erica Kane’s earlier abortion narrative, reversing its progressive implications. These narrative revisitations indicated a desire to recapture past success while grappling with a changing audience and television landscape, all while continuing to provide platforms for soap opera actors to deliver compelling performances.
The emergence of internet or “indie soaps,” now eligible for daytime awards, signifies an uncertain but evolving future for the genre. Despite changes, soap operas persist as a commercial art form, adapting and enduring. Levine emphasizes their lasting influence on television, noting that “the ‘docusoaps’ of reality television, the magazines and blogs of celebrity gossip, and even the self-fashioned appeal of the interpersonal drama and serialized storytelling… are legacies of soap opera and the ‘feminine competencies’ for which it has long trained and rewarded its viewers.” This legacy includes the countless contributions of Guiding Light soap opera actors and their peers, who have shaped television narrative and performance.
Berke concludes by sharing her experience watching General Hospital, struck by its opening credits—a montage of actresses’ faces, reminiscent of casting headshots. This visual prompted a reflection on a conversation with a Guiding Light casting intern who claimed to discern “who looks daytime.” Berke muses on this elusive quality, questioning what defines a “daytime” actor and whether she herself possesses it. Considering the careers launched by soap operas, from Mark Consuelos to Julianne Moore, Berke suggests that the essence of a soap star might lie in something deeper than makeup or tan. Perhaps, she concludes, the answer resides in understanding what early fans envisioned when they listened to radio soaps and what they sought when these stories transitioned to television: relatable characters, reflecting their own lives and emotions, portrayed by actors who could embody these roles authentically, even amidst great duress. The enduring appeal of soap operas, and the actors who bring them to life, lies in this powerful connection to the everyday human experience, a legacy richly explored in Levine’s “Her Stories” and exemplified by the actors of Guiding Light and the broader soap opera world.
