They're both blonde. Beautiful. And brainy. They even work together in the wild and woolly, fast-lane world of advertising. But that--as any true fan of prime-time's raciest soap can tell you--is where the similarities end. Amanda Woodward (played by Heather Locklear) is a Bad Girl. Alison Parker (played by Courtney Thorne-Smith) is a Good Girl. That simple, day-and-night difference has made them the standout stars of a glossy ensemble cast--and the hottest cats to ever scratch and snarl on the sun-scorched roof of Melrose Place.
Thanks to The Battle of the Blondes, this twentysomething spinoff of
Beverly
Hills 90210--now in its second season--has spun itself right into the
Dynasty of the '90s. Not since arch-rivals Krystle Carrington and
Alexis
Colby slugged it out in the mood has the line between good and evil
been so
clearly drawn: You want to hiss when Amanda--who never saw a back she
didn't want to stab--makes a beeline for Alison's boyfriend, Billy.
You
can't help but cheer when Alison finally outmaneuvers Amanda--who
happens to
be her boss--at the office. "When people recognize me on the street,"
says
Locklear, her baby blues sparkling with something far from innocence,
"they
say, 'Leave Billy alone!'"
It was, in fact, the love triangle between Amanda, Alison, and
struggling
writer Billy (Andrew Shue) that not only saved Melrose Place from grim
ratings, but transformed it into one of TV's campiest, trashiest,
guiltiest
pleasures. The audience apparently didn't care how these buffed and
beautiful creatures dealt with burning issues. They wanted to know how
they
dealt with each other. In bed and out. With clothes or without.
Everything clicked when the show finally became...well...vicious.
"What we
had in the beginning," says executive producer Aaron Spelling (who was
also
the mastermind behind Dynasty), "was a very interesting, but very
passive
group. We needed Heather to stir the pot."
You can usually smell trouble when Locklear is on-screen. An 11th-hour addition to the cast last season, Locklear--who once played Dynasty's chief tramp, Sammy Jo--proved an inspired choice to play the show's ace bad apple. The producers had already lathered up the Melrose formula, turning it into a soaper with continuing storylines. What they needed was a cat amongst the pigeons. "I don't think our audience wanted morality plays," says Melrose creator and executive producer Darren Star of his mid-course correction. "They wanted to see these characters make mistakes." Like when Billy and Amanda--who insured her constant interference by buying the apartment complex--reignited their passion over the garbage pails. Like when Alison came this close to going to bed with a client. Like when Billy and Amanda made love while Alison was out of town. "My grandfather," says Shue, sounding a little embarrassed, "thinks it's getting a little gamy." Which, to Melrose fans, is exactly the point.
But the real-life entanglements of this gilt-edged triangle have become almost fascinating as their sticky lives onscreen. Locklear, whose solid tv career is now skyrocketing, has had a tumultuous year of both professional highs and personal lows. The low is a divorce-in-progress from heavy-metal rocker Tommy Lee. "There were three months of pain," says Locklear quietly. "But I would characterize 1993 as one of the best years of my life and all for the better." Has she ever toyed with the idea of getting involved with someone on set? "No," she says adamantly. "It's never happened. And it would be dangerous. And it could be so uncomfortable."
Thorne-Smith and Shue, on the other hand, did risk having a life
together
offscreen. Though they tried to keep it quiet, they were an item all
last
season. The two have since broken up. Shue, who has remained
tight-lipped
about his persona life, will say only that he's "not seeing anyone
right now."
Thorne-Smith allows a little more light on the subject. "In or out of
a
relationship," she says, "we get along great. We've always been very
nice
to each other. And especially with our characters always breaking up
and
getting back together, it's very important to have a safe place to do
that.
It's always been a safe place with him. I thank God he was the person
I was
paired with for what turned out to be the most difficult year of my
career
because he really helped to keep me sane."
The difficulties she faced were two-fold: First, before Locklear showed up, the show focused heavily on Alison and Billy, as their platonic living arrangement blossomed into something neither recognized at first as love. With Melrose's unusually heavy order of 32 episodes, Thorne-Smith says that by season's end, she was "a mess. I was sick all the time. I didn't know how I was going to make it." Then Locklear signed on, and Thorne-Smith found she wasn't needed every day on set. Despite her fatigue, it was more than a little unsettling. "Deborah Adair [who played Amanda's boss] said at the end of last season, 'Court, just hold on. Because it's a soap opera and your character will come around again.' At the time, I was like, 'Yeah, right.' But now it's happened and I can really appreciate the time off. I'm so much more relaxed."
You might think that with the on-screen rivalry and all the media attention, Locklear and Thorne-Smith would give each other a wide berth. But according to numerous sources on set, the two not only like each other, but go out of their way to spend time together, laughing and comparing notes on everything from their men to their diets. "We'll be out to lunch and Heather will say, 'Yes, I'd like fried zucchini circles with ranch.' And I'll be having a tuna salad with fat-free dressing," jokes Thorne-Smith. "I hate her." Then why do rumors of a growing feud persist? "People like to think she's like Amanda," says Thorne-Smith. "I didn't think that, but there's no way I expected her to be so funny and kind and quick and self-deprecating. No way. You think, with the way she looks, why should she develop a personality?"
"When I was first approached to do this show," says Locklear, "it was only for four episodes. Had I known it would continue, who knows how anyone in the cast might have reacted? But as it was, I was just another guest star coming in and everyone was really friendly. The actors here know it's a job." Spelling says that kind of attitude is the reason no one on Melrose--unlike at least one star on Beverly Hills, 90210--has developed a reputation as an on-set troublemaker. "These actors have been working longer," says Spelling. "They're older. They've already had some bumps. But even on Beverly Hills, we've had one problem [Shannon Doherty] out of 10 people."
Another reason Melrose egos may stay in check is because two other villains are further thickening the plot: Redheaded vixen Sydney (newcomer Laura Leighton) has already made waves by sleeping with her sister's husband and getting involved in a Hollywood call-girl ring, while no-good doctor Michael Mancini (Thomas Calabro) has cheated multiple times on his wife and killed his girlfriend by drinking and driving. He even persuaded Matt, the sensitive gay social worker played by Doug Savant, to falsify his hospital blood-alcohol records to keep himself out of the slammer. All of which makes you wonder: Would these cast members--given a real-life choice--sign a lease at an apartment complex where they knew the other residents were exactly like those on Melrose Place?
"Honestly?"
ponders
Daphne Zuniga, who plays strong-willed photographer Jo. "I'd last a
week.
Maybe two. And then I would just bite the deposit and leave. Because
if
this were real life, I'd probably have lawsuits on my hands for beating
up
Amanda and that little tart Sydney."
"I'd take the lease in a second," says Locklear. "They couldn't weasel
their way into my life unless I wanted them to." Then she suddenly
reconsiders. "Unless I had a boyfriend. Because of Sydney." So she
would
trust herself to be able to handle the situation, but not her man?
"Right,"
says Locklear. "I don't trust anyone else."
"If this were real life," says Thorne-Smith, smiling, "I don't think
you
could survive it."
