It’s a good question, isn’t it? What exactly is chemistry? Can it be manufactured? Can it be scripted? Can it be forced?

For me, chemistry is a certain unmistakable something that charges the air that surrounds two people – in this case, John and Evangeline in the persons of Michael Easton and Renee Elise Goldsberry. It sparkles. It sizzles. It catches our attention and draws us in and makes us want to see more. Remember that scene with John and Evangeline on the bench at the police station? Remember how Evangeline asked whether or not they’d just had a semi-date and John said that they hadn’t – that a date is dinner or dancing or something that people do? Evangeline said something like: “Well, whatever we have to do, I can’t wait.” With a broad smile, John responded: “You can’t?” And then he turned, leaning toward her – smile on his face, gleam in his eye, his body facing hers as the camera moved left to show Daniel coming in to interrupt their little moment. Didn’t you just want to shout at your television screen, “Get out of here! What the #@!! is wrong with you? I don’t want to see you! I wanna see what’s happening on that bench with John and Evangeline!” I know I did. Maybe a few of you actually shouted. I did. You see? Chemistry.

Chemistry is in how their eyes light up when they’re fixed on each other. Chemistry is in how natural and genuine they seem together – their words and actions feeling totally spontaneous even though we know that they’ve been scripted well beforehand. Chemistry is how everyone else on screen fades into the wallpaper whenever these two are onscreen together. Chemistry is how the way that they react to each other makes us all feel as if we’re intruding when we watch.

Now that’s electricity.

Can it be manufactured? Can it be scripted? Can it be forced? The answer to all three questions is evidently not, since scripted couples come and go in every genre – daytime, nighttime, films. But the ones we remember – the ones we feel - are few and very far in between. They’re the special ones – the ones who have a certain indefinable something about them that sets them apart from all the rest.

I can’t think of another couple that fits this description more completely than John and Evangeline. For chemistry - real chemistry - to work, for electricity to flourish, there has to be more than a script – words on a page. When those words, those situations, that dialogue work best, it’s when the actors involved have the ability to use that script as a starting point for their talents to take hold. And then their own something extra steps in, adding shades of color, layers of emotion, and a certain "realness" to the mix. That’s when ordinary scenes become extra-ordinary, the easy to dismiss becomes memorable, and the written words take on a life of their own.

For me, it’s as if everyone else on One Life to Live is shot in black and white, either standing perfectly still or meandering about in slow motion – their voices only listless muffled background noise while John and Evangeline are shot in vivid, vibrant color, moving purposefully around at regular speed – their voices crisp and clear and energized.

And it can’t be manufactured. With Easton and Goldsberry as John and Evangeline, it’s just there – electricity to the Nth power.

And it's a rare and wonderful thing.