"'...and
the mama bear gave the baby bear a nice, warm bath, and made it good as
new.
"'And the daddy bear said to the baby bear, he says, "What are you gonna
do next time you see a black, furry animal with a white stripe down his
back?"
"'And the baby bear said, "Well—. I'm
just gonna walk away."'"
[Chuckles.] "You still like that?
Yep—? Even though it's hard to keep your eyes open?
"You know, John Ross, I have a feelin'
your mama's gonna be back on South Fork real soon. Yeah. I think she's
learnin' that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Yeah — I have a
feelin' we'll all be back together real soon" [chuckles, softly].
— J.R. Ewing (Larry Hagman).
Anyone who says the sole appeal of
Dallas was the audiences' gratuitous indulgence in seeing folks
behave badly and get away with it completely misses the depth and art of
this complex series.
I've always argued that in its prime,
the last minutes to the "end title" of an episode were among the most
powerful in television. In this season, J.R. Ewing and Sue Ellen are in
divorce; J.R. is here, alone, putting his beloved son, John
Ross, down to sleep for the night during one of his brief weekend
visitations. Reading him a bedtime story, soft, children's music in the
background. John Ross, yawning, on the verge of giving it up for the
evening.
One of its greatest plot devices was
the private dialogues J.R. had with his son. Even if he was deceiving
himself, you could be certain that this was where you were looking into
his heart. And that his son was truly everything to him.
Moving on every emotional plane here.
As a divorced father of my own little boy, it absolutely strikes me.
Profoundly. And it's complicated.
Sure, there's an element of impending
manipulation. Does J.R. truly want Sue Ellen back, as the plans in this
and episodes leading up to it unfold? Or is it that his precious son
comes with her?
There's no question in my mind: The
answer is—.
