THE SHOW WAS UTTERLY and unapologetically high-budget trash. That was practically its title.
Its actual title was For Love Within Reason. The premise was that an elderly king had three sons, all of whom had married good and sensible wives. The king had ten grandchildren—played by attractive actors in their twenties—who were allowed a bit of leeway in choosing their own spouses. Like no, you can’t marry the stable boy or the chambermaid, but within certain parameters you’re allowed to marry for love.
Hence the title.
It was set in a fictional European kingdom, during a timeframe that was vaguely medieval. Anachronisms abounded. Most characters spoke with English or American accents. Each truncated mini-season focused on a different royal hottie, who you knew would eventually marry their soulmate.
But first there’d be scheming, bodice ripping, betrayal, then more bodice ripping followed by more scheming and betrayal, and also why are these naked people so randomly wet? It’s not supposed to be raining, and indoor plumbing doesn’t exist in this universe, so the most logical explanation is…sexy mist?
The fact that there’s no indoor plumbing was an actual plot point. Characters are always going to the river to chastely bathe, then bumping into their most recent ex, who’s also there to chastely bathe. As one does.
It was all wonderfully campy, soapy and fun. There wasn’t any literal soap, but the characters’ hygiene appeared impeccable. Must have been all the sexy mist and river-bathing.
“What IS this?” asked my mother, as she took a seat beside me on the couch. I explained to her the premise of the show, and what passed for an active plot this specific episode. Every plot was essentially an excuse for characters to be angry and naked.
“My God, that sounds stupid!” I could only agree with her.
But neither of us changed the channel.
They recently rebooted the show. Several of the original cast returned for cameos. My mother doesn’t talk much these days — the oxygen tank makes that difficult — but last episode she rolled her eyes at me and I knew exactly what she was thinking. Like, come on, Renaga, you can do so much better than this loser. He’s clearly using you to make Envya envious. Jesus, who names these characters?
— ALAINA HAMMOND
Alaina Hammond is a poet, playwright, fiction writer, and visual artist. Her poems, short stories, paintings, drawings and photographs have been published both online and in print. Originally from the east coast, she lives in California with her husband and son.