A Delicious Alternative to Reality

I became acquainted with the fabulous culture of the telenovela during the two months I spent alone in Puerto Alcúdia (bloody bloody football being firmly off the menu).

Primarily filmed and produced in Latin American countries – Venezuela being a popular creator of such series – they are the televised equivalent of the least credible of the Mills and Boon genre.

And just like those frowned-upon romance novels, I fell cabeza over talones for them.

With rare exceptions, the script runs along these tried and tested lines:

1. Boy and girl meet and fall in love.

2. Girl holds inferior social status to boy.

3. Boy’s family interferes and/or huge misunderstanding occurs.

4. Boy and girl are kept apart.

5. Regardless, girl remains faithful to boy.

6. Boy, however, finds comfort by starting other love affairs left right and centre.

7. Boy and girl occasionally get back together for passionate kissing, but further silly misunderstandings and/or lies told by boy’s current squeeze and/or family etc drive them apart again. This happens repeatedly, and frustratingly would be resolved if boy and girl would just communicate a little rather than dedicating all their stolen time together to the aforementioned passionate kissing.

8. Eventually, sometimes years and fictional years after the whole thing started, boy and girl finally pause for breath and get round to communicating, leading to the immediate resolution of all misunderstandings and the declarations of undying love and then, of course, the wedding. (I must add that there is quite often an illegitimate child – passionate kissing is obviously not all that keeps them from adequate communication – thrown into the equation for added piquancy).

And thus this cheesy and predictable tale goes for a gloriously unbelievable  number of episodes on which I challenge anyone with half a heart (and an excess of free time) not to get hooked.

There were interesting exceptions to the Mills and Boon formula though, and one in particular I absolutely must share with you, if for no other reason that to give you the opportunity to admire the sheer vision and imagination of some scriptwriters.

‘Juana la Virgen’ (I think that in English it is referred to as ‘Juana’s Miracle’) recounts what must be the most bizarre and inventive story yet.

Juana is a seventeen year old Venezuelan schoolgirl who goes to see her gynaecologist for a check-up. Whilst there, a mix-up occurs, and Juana is artificially inseminated. (Yes, you did read that correctly). So, there she is, a pious young girl who claims never to have had sexual intercourse, and yet who suddenly finds herself with an unexplained bun in her barely pubescent oven.

Of course nobody believes her protestations of virtue, despite her previous good character, and rumours begin to fly as to how she found herself in this sorry predicament.

Meanwhile we are shown another Venezuelan couple, Mauricio and his wife Carlota, who are attempting to conceive through IVF with the help of the very same gynaecologist…

And you’ve guessed it: a right royal cock-up (or rather a turkey baster-up to be more accurate).

It turns out that Mauricio and Carlota’s marriage is not a happy one, and in fact Carlota is actively, but secretly, trying to avoid conceiving. They are naturally shocked when the gynaecologist informs them of the mistake that has occurred at the clinic, and at the realisation that another woman (or innocent, blameless schoolgirl) is now carrying Mauricio’s child.

Mauricio, in his quest to be a father eventually manages to track Juana down, and without telling her who he is, befriends her – creepy stalker-style.

Not unpredictably for the genre but still wrong on more levels than it is possible to count, this weirdly broody man in his thirties and the unwillingly and blamelessly pregnant schoolgirl fall in love, overcome an obscene amount of obstacles, get married and bring up this bizarrely conceived child together as a family.

A certain victory for that noisy brigade who see women as nothing more than a vessel for the next-generation: not so much of one for the girl whose future was stolen by an unwanted child before she even had a chance to finish her own childhood.

But fiction, so who cares; right?

Viva la telenovela!