Acting troupe puts soap opera on Net

     Associated Press
      LOS ANGELES -- Madonna Hewitt is ready to confess her sins.
      The camera's rolling, the director's waiting and the show's Webmaster is eager to post the latest dirt on the home page of the cyber-soap opera "Confessions."
      Now all they need is quiet on the set.
      Take 1. The microphone picks up the chattering cast lurking outside the flimsy-wall studio.
      Take 2. Someone in the recording booth forgets to turn off the overhead speakers.
      Take 3. A car guns its engines in the parking lot.
      Take 4. A rumble from above fills the room.
      "It's the 8 o'clock flight from San Francisco," said actress Kathi Carey, who plays the trampy Hewitt and has directed several of the "Confessions" episodes. "The glamour of shooting footage for the Net never ends."
      "Confessions" director Stephen Mitchell and his Studio City-based acting troupe are launching their videotaped soap opera on the Net. The premise is that "some secrets are too private for even a priest to hear," and each week sinners unload their guilt and search for absolution in the fictional California town of Briarwood.
      The "Confessions" cast of 18 spends most of its time being -- what else? -- bad. There are lies, betrayals, sex, violence and a whole lot of juicy guilt -- all the makings of a good Aaron Spelling series. It's "Dynasty" meets "The Thorn Birds," with lots of short skirts, dramatic pauses and seductive music.
      Consider some of the show's key characters. There's a man running for political office who juggles a series of mistresses, one of whom he kills. His wife, a feisty brunette, enjoys her own extramarital dalliances with young hunks found in the church congregation. One of the mistresses, a blond party girl, cheats on the cheaters.
      "The way the show is edited and written, it has a very male-oriented edge and feeds into the male instinct of lust and sin," said actress Valerie Hastings, who plays party girl K.T. Philips. "Everyone has secrets and people like to spy on one another. The show is very voyeuristic in its appeal."
      Computer users check into the Web site each week for an update on the latest episode, and they can then order a videotape -- $12 each, or 10 for $100 -- to watch further footage of the show. New confessions pop up on the site every three to four weeks. A daily "newspaper" tells viewers about the latest scandals and escapades, and the town's Wiccan does weekly tarot readings for each character.
      The idea for the Web-based show developed out of Mitchell's longstanding public-access show.
      "I started thinking about taking the interview process on a more intimate level," Mitchell said. "I realized that the discussions between a priest and a penitent was one of society's most secret exchanges. Listening in on this would be forbidden -- and tantalizing."
      Mitchell then looked for an equally intimate format, and he discovered the World Wide Web.
      "In Hollywood, everyone's pitching a television show," Mitchell said. "I thought it would be great to do a Web site that has a television show attached to it."
      Indeed, several other companies have tried similar ventures, from American Cybercast's pioneering "The Spot" to the tongue-in-cheek twentysomething "MelrosEast." Such shows have garnered huge interest, but few have been profitable. And American Cybercast filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy earlier this year, although "The Spot" remains on line and is regularly updated.
      "It's a financial risk, but so is doing any kind of television project," Mitchell said.
      "I think our show is going to cross more boundaries and be more risky than the other ones. And that's why we're going to succeed."