The Dark Shadows Daybook: April 29

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this day in 1968: Episode 485

Barnabas knows that ultimate happiness is right around the corner because his best friends do all that they can to talk him out of it. Eric Lang: Addison Powell. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Lang relates the dream curse to Julia on the eve of The Experiment as she tries to talk him out of it. Meanwhile, Barnabas relates his instructions to Willie on the eve of The Experiment as he tries to talk him out of it. Across Collinsport, Angelique, tired of the moralizing, stabs a voodoo doll of Lang and then probably takes a long, well-deserved bubble bath. 

One of the great things about Ghostbusters is its use of science to address the supernatural. It would be convenient to say that this is something that started with the novel of Frankenstein, except that the process only hinted at in the book is as much alchemical as it was laboratory grade.  In exploring the dichotomy between the two methods of describing and controlling the universe, Dark Shadows generally comes down on the side of the supernatural, except when it doesn’t, and it doesn’t with surprising regularity. Science makes more appearances than you would think. Peter Guthrie is no witch doctor. Julia begins the show by literally seeing the supernatural through a microscope. The heroes of 1795 at least assert a preference for scientific thinking.  And if scientific thinking is not always the answer, it certainly has a seat at the séance table. Julia works with Angelique to combine bio chemistry and black magic to help Barnabas in 1897. The entire existence of parallel time is well-founded in vaguely articulated pseudoscientific mumbo-jumbo recited by Stokes with incredibly precise ambiguity. You know, science. Along with Cyrus Longworth and a side-trip to 1840, via a chronoporting staircase well-founded in time honored principles of total scientific illiteracy.  But, Dark Shadows is under no obligation to be scientifically literate. It doesn’t have to worry about Isaac Asimov clutching his pearly muttonchops as he watches it, kvetching that “It's no Space: 1999.”

For Dark Shadows, science may simply be magic in lab coats, but that’s not all. It’s the Resistance. It’s often the sole force that man has against the new world of ancient gods and monsters. Although it is carefully protected from resembling reality, it still exists to troll hoity-toity magic users and level the playing field for the rest of us. And of course it has to be mad science. Because regular science is too boring and largely exists to give everyone reasons why they can’t have any fun. 

Eric Lang is my kind of scientist. Just imagine him instead of Anthony Fauci. I’m sure somehow Covid would have been cured by now.  Admittedly, we would all have giraffe heads grafted on to us.  Which would have absolutely nothing to do with curing Covid. But I have every confidence that Eric Lang was also on the board of the Collinsport Community Playhouse and was itching to do a modified version of some Ionesco, a playwright he admired for his gritty, hard-hitting realism. After that controversial, all-nude production of Darling of the Day, he had to play it safe.  Every year for a fundraiser, they would do a haunted house. Which was actually the only month out of the year that Lang would simply take down the schmattas covering everything in his home and show off his work in all its glory.

All seriousness aside, the episode crackles with more pure fun than a Chick-fil-A hijacked by RuPaul and Steve Shives, open for biz and spiking the lemonade with bourbon on a Sunday near you.  It begins with Lang trying to logic his way through the dream curse, and knowing that we’ll be saying goodbye to Dark Shadows’ most passionate showman, Addison Powell, it’s a glorious monologue that hovers somewhere between sobriety and appropriate sensationalism. As these people share nightmares, it’s the closest the program comes to presenting the characters presenting their own individual horror TV series. It’s as if they, themselves, are producing a meta-Dark Shadows.

Lang tries to persuade Julia that there’s nothing inordinately dangerous to injecting the soul of Barnabas into the body of Adam, you know, now that all of the heads have been sawed-off, reattached, and Roger Davis still has his face. Hearing this, Julia has her doubts and says that she might prefer if Barnabas simply went back to being a vampire.  

Yeah, you heard me.

Julia eventually emerges as the voice of conscience and common sense for Barnabas. You know, over a year from now.  But today she has one black-stockinged leg in the bold future of 1897 and another one still in the lab, trying to chemically shrivel Barnabas into a future Don Post bestseller. Like in that episode of Next Generation where they kept aging Dr. Pulaski by taking off layer upon layer of Diana Muldaur’s make-up. 

I kid, I kid. Better than Crusher, sez me.

But I have to question the moral compass of anyone who would put the inevitability of a serial killing Lord of the Undead, capable of spreading a vampiric pathogen that could decimate the human race if well-shaded and unchecked, above a wacky experiment that will probably just end in nothing but a crackle, a burning scent, some shrugs, and then Lang, Julia, and Willie splitting the contents of Barnabas‘s wallet three ways at TGI Friday’s, which, knowing what a cheap SOB he was, will barely cover the cost of the seven layer dip and that Ultimate Megarita that is how Julia spells r-e-l-I-e-f on any day ending in ‘Y.’

Why, indeed?

Shifting to the Old House, it’s immediately clear the Barnabas is trying to solve his ongoing existential crisis, because there’s Willie, at his side, wringing his hands and doing everything possible to discourage him from seeking happiness. Moments like these make Margaret Hamilton‘s Cora, from those Maxwell House ads, look like a free wheeling Dennis Hopper. Willie must have nothing to do, because he just watched Julia in the previous scene and is basically repeating what she said to Lang. His namby-pamby nagging and cheek give Jonathan Frid one of his greatest and most genuine line readings. And it’s the kind of moment, going by in a flash, that makes the program absolute gold. Because all of the vampire and curse stuff is interesting, if you like that sort of thing, but it’s not nearly as much fun as watching this old married couple go at it for the upteenth time. Loomis flatly states, “I don’t like it.” 

Barnabas responds with a withering cattiness worthy of Count Petofi. He opines, “That IS a shame,” sighs, and desperately tries to secure his fortune by writing a questionable letter instructing the family to hand over all of his possessions and the Old House to a “cousin from England.” Yeah, like they’d ever do that.

But Willie continues his campaign of simpering instead of doing what he should, which is quickly finishing a paint-by-numbers portrait of Robert Rodan in Georgian drag to sneak onto the wall of the drawing room as if it were yet another portrait of an incestor that “had been there the whole time.“  You know, the minimum litmus test that Roger and Liz need to fork over priceless real estate to a fancy-lad stranger. Hey, if it worked for Georges Baker and Lazenby, why not here?

Just for a moment, I want you to picture that version of the show. Picture a Dark Shadows where the experiment worked, and Jonathan Frid has to loop in the dialogue for Robert Rodan as if he’d just emerged from Boris Balinkoff’s mind-transplant device. For the rest of the series.

It’s a pretty good show, come to think of it. Calling Robot Loomis!

But all this fear over the experiment, and a preference for Barnabas to be a vampire again, has a disturbing subtext. People in abusive relationships tend to gravitate back to further abusers because a familiar love is preferable to taking a chance on a happy future. Although it’s unexpected, that is a truth reflected here by both Willie and Julia. 

However, Barnabas is willing to literally change his mind, so that’s next in line. “Barnabas, the experiment’s still free,” Lang might have reminded him, before adding, “take a chance on me.”

Yes, I once directed Mamma Mia. Or as I called it, “A Cry for Help.“  And those lambs are still decidedly screaming, Clarisse.

Barnabas is so ready for the process that he even puts on a blue bathrobe for the experiment. Like Red Sonia in that armor that I’m sure is just as protective, I assume it’s for “freedom of movement“ but I still feel like the old boy is being exploited. 

Actually, after seeing him manfully clad in suits, capes, jabots, ascots, tights, and various kerchiefs for a year, The semiotic impact of that blue bathrobe conveys the incredibly human vulnerability of Barnabas in a way that is unparalleled across the series. Either that, or he’s waiting for a Jean Shepherd narration to start describing his long-standing battle with Lang’s idiosyncratic furnace as Julia once again unsuccessfully attempts to get Willie to eat meatloaf. 

Well, there are no Bumpus hounds to devour the Ham of Progress as Lang charges up the ozone of electric sex to begin the transfer. But don’t think the supernatural will go down without a fight. With cosmic inevitability, Willie goes to Collinwood to personally hand Angelique the precise piece of information she needs, the letter about “Adam Collins,“ at precisely the right time for her to get out her trusty Eric Lang Mego voodoo doll and throw what was a sober exploration of scientific inquiry into total chaos. 

And for a moment, an important moment, all of the wackiness stops.  We see Barnabas, our friend and hero, screaming in a degree of pain that is suddenly and uncomfortably real. We see him worry. We see him fret. But television usually stops short of showing a character, destined to live, experiencing a pointless and sadistic agony.  And Lang is experiencing it as well. Maybe we could say it’s tantamount to the pain of childbirth, which is what the scene is about, but this is not such pain.

This is sadism. And it is sadism from a witch. A creature of darkness. A creature of anti-science. Someone whose existence knows only the spectrum of literal hellfire or the blazing execution stake representative of human justice. How dare he be cured? More pointedly, how dare he be cured by someone other than she? In that attack, we get a full-spectrum view of the quintessential struggle for the human identity. No, really. Male versus female. Science versus religion. Reason versus emotion. Fear versus informed optimism. What is at stake? Literally, the human mind and, if it exists, soul. 

No answers, except that one side seeks to use nature to control nature. One side wishes to punish the attempt to steal what was her fire, exclusively. Science will, as we will learn, win the day, but not without sacrifices. Adam will live, as will Barnabas. And no matter how big Angelique’s Twinkie, for one day at least, Eric Lang, Barnabas Collins, and Julia Hoffman had the guts to cross the streams. 

This episode hit the airwaves on May 3, 1968.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: April 27

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this day in 1967: Episode 222

With nothing to lose but his inhibitions, Barnabas explores the wild world of male modeling to win Maggie’s heart. Barnabas: Jonathan Frid. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Barnabas, eager to have Maggie in his home, asks Sam Evans to paint his portrait. Probably also so he knows what he looks like. Sam agrees, and the two men start working late at night.

Barnabas awakens to find himself in a new world of gods and coincidences, although I suspect he’s wishing that Maggie’s dad were a contractor, given the state of the Old House wallpaper. The coincidence leads to one of Dark Shadows’ classic moments and raises questions about practicalities, as well.

Critics of the show would be hard-pressed to cite this with the usual cavils of chintz and camp. It’s spare and elegant, with Jonathan Frid delivering a performance that’s somewhere between little-boy-lost and utterly sinister. His chemistry extends to the entire cast, and the result is an unusually tight episode. It has an ending we all see coming, but is still redolent with mystery and implication. Sam insists on finishing a final detail on Barnabas’ portrait as the sun begins to rise. As he finishes, Barnabas has escaped, impossibly.

That’s the moment, and we enjoy it three ways. Even a new viewer is Barnabas’ secret confidant, knowing what Collinsport doesn’t. But we don’t know everything, including what he’s up to or how far this will go. And at the same time, we’re seeing Sam’s model vanish from his point of view, and can enjoy the eerie mystery, and wonder if either artist or model will return the next night.

As schemes go, this whole painting business is yet another moment that makes Dark Shadows the most poker-faced sitcom on TV. Like a love-struck 14-year-old, Barnabas comes up with every scheme possible to “just accidentally” keep running into Maggie as if he’s getting advice from Ralph Mouth and Potsie. This is right on the heels of the moment where he just-so-happens to leave his cane at the diner (so he has another excuse to see Maggie). In this case, he schemes to have Maggie’s dad paint his portrait under ludicrous circumstances so that he can again be in her company. You call it creepy. I call it adorable. It’s beyond a meet-cute. It’s Barnabas’ wacky concession that it’s a new world. What were his prior courting opportunities? He’s exhausted himself looking for a good cotillion or public hanging, and with those surefire heart-melters gone, he has no choice but to resort to schemes. I think such Puckish madness is the only reason WIllie puts up with him. Well, that and the threat of constant beatings. The comical highlight of the episode may be when Barnabas and Sam are awkwardly negotiating on a price, and Barnabas offers to pony up a grand. That’s well north of $6000 in 2020 money. But when was the last time Barnabas commissioned a portrait of himself? The last thing he paid an artist was probably three casks of rum and the promise to keep Ben Stokes off the lawn. Come to think of it, Sam probably would have gone for that, too, and never mind that he’s never heard of Ben Stokes. Barnabas is not exactly in his element here. Locked in a coffin since the Washington administration. Resorting to feeding off Willie. Living a renovation nightmare. Can’t find a good jabot at Brewster’s. And then there’s your ex-fiance. I mean, right there. So, how cool can he be? If he tried to play it smooth, he’d wind up looking like Sinatra in the love beads when he Did His Thing with the Fifth Dimension. And no one wants that.

Except for me.

In the best scene of the episode, the irony train roars through the Collinwood foyer at full blast. Maggie comes by to report to Vicki that Barnabas might as well be converting the Old House into an artist’s colony with impassioned and demonstrative treatises on naturism inevitably to follow after the fifth round of claret cups. Before they can call Sheriff Patterson to join in, Vicki introduces Maggie to the portrait, and Maggie is the one person who doesn’t bother with noting Barnabas’ resemblance, probably because she’s seen the last few episodes. Instead, she notes the eyes, and both women admit that it’s a relief to finally have someone pleasant around Collinwood. Liz? Roger? Are you listening? I’m not here to tell Mrs. Johnson that she’d get bigger tips if she’d smile more, although I have no doubt Burke said that once or twice after his fifth Tanqueray & Tang, but, you know, it might make breakfast a tad less funereal.

In seriousness, it’s a marvelously true and beautiful moment. They can sense it in him. Even though the audience is supposed to chuckle at the irony, Yes, we are supposed to think that Barnabas’ innate and radiant kindness is camouflage hiding the Beast. No. So great is his genuine spirit that even Angelique’s curse is eclipsed by it. This is only evident when you know the full story of Barnabas Collins, but it’s about fifty-three years too late for spoilers.

The show inevitably feels foreign when revisited after exploring its full expanse. Quiet. Focused. Affectionate toward its well-drawn characters. It is exactly the tone we need to root us in, and I mean it, the reality of these people. This moody tone poem in black, white, and creamy gray is the real world from which we depart. Knowing that it’s there is what allows us to stay invested into the wildest of futures, pasts, and parallels.

This episode hit the airwaves on May 3, 1967.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: May 3

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1968: Episode 489

What's five feet tall, wears a Nehru jacket and witnesses things that could destroy Angeliwue's plans to rule Collinwood? David Collins is back in town! David: David Henesy. (Repeat; 30 min.)

David returns to Collinwood to find that his father has married Cassandra. His reaction is predictably disturbed. Later, he sees her kissing Tony Peterson, over whom she’s exercising her control. When he tells her that he’ll reveal the truth, she renders him mute.

As I often am heard shouting to both no one and everyone in my fruitless exercise of helpless rage known as sleep, “I do not want to be David Collins’ wife.” Between a stepmother who wants to kill you, a mother who wants to kill you, a father who often wants to kill you, a governess who goes insane and then back in time, and a governess who goes insane and then to Windcliff, you might wind up being a little needy, too. Not to mention having some trust issues with women. And men. And primordial snake god avatars. Come to think of it, if you don't look like Nancy Barrett or Joan Bennett, forget it. He's not going to trust you. Just pack it in. Maybe Robbie Rist needs a companion.

Even though they seem unevenly matched, David meeting with Angelique allows the show to explore some exciting possibilities for conflict. Angelique relies on imposing fear, and David is relatively fearless, especially when it comes to things that could actually cause him harm.  Roger’s new wife’s greatest vulnerability is the truth. Yes, her rituals are private, but how private is private from a snoop like David? And most of her workings are social. She bends the minds, souls, and everything elses of her victims usually in person, wielding influence more than an uthame. Again, a practice reliant on controlling who knows what about whom. Well, David knows more than Mati Hari, the National Enquirer, and Dr. Manhattan rolled into one. Of course he would return in time to see his hated new stepmom making out with Tony Peterson. Of course. It’s Cosmic Inevitability.

David, however, receives his comeuppance in a way he could have never anticipated when Angelique takes his voice from him. It’s an old trick of hers, but especially miserable for “Mr. I-Saw-What-You-Did,” himself. It’s a juicy moment. While this sequence has Angelique at her most unforgivably toxic, as Lang can attest, that doesn’t stop us from giving a sincere golf clap to the woman who let David see all he wanted to, but took away his power to do anything about it. Again, an instance where Willie is no longer another mask of the Cosmic Gilligan because David has taken His place. It’s a humanizing moment for him, and continues to mature the character.

Both men and women with experience in dysfunctional relationships, and by that, I mean all men and women, can probably identify with either Angelique or Roger as he tries to shuttle her off on the honeymoon. How convenient that they wait for weeks for David, and then the moment he arrives, the situation is so dire that they can’t possibly leave? Life is full of convenient excuses. Roger refuses to see significance in them because if he did, what else would become suspect? If you answered, “all of it,” you win a miniature Digging Man statue.

On this day in 1968, the Kentucky Derby resolved into weeks of controversy when winning horse Dancer’s Image was disqualified for being on an anti-inflammatory.

This episode hit the airwaves May 9, 1968.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: May 3

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 225/226

After a terrified Maggie dreams of seeing herself in a coffin, Joe takes her to the Blue Whale for a drink to clear her head. Barnabas and Sam enter, celebrating a fine night of painting with a round of drinks for them, Maggie, and Joe. Barnabas and Sam speak of the uniqueness of night with a wistful romanticism. Alone, Barnabas goes on to sing Maggie’s praises to Sam, but tells him he has no desire to involve himself. Burke enters and eagerly meets Barnabas, who tells him that Willie apologizes and will give no one trouble again. Back at home, Sam tries to calm Maggie, but in bed, she hears the cry of the wolf. As Maggie sleeps uneasily, Barnabas enters her room, baring his teeth.

For the early days of the Barnabas storyline, this could make an excellent pilot for the series to come. Conflicts, suspicions, and agendas abound, and the class friction between the Collinses and The Rest is on full parade. When people ask why DARK SHADOWS became an overnight sensation, show them this episode. It begins with tension and atmosphere, moves on to the shared charm of Jonathan Frid and David Ford, and then returns to the underlying sense of doom that pervades the script. Frid plays Barnabas as the ultimate Eddie Haskell, but because we’re in on it, we get to cheer the con from the inside. By doing this, we see the show’s secret. We are Barnabas’ confidants, like it or not. And we like it. We’re also getting ever closer to the “V-word.”I know that Dan Curtis was dedicated to the vampire idea, but the slow reveal feels as if he’s taking tiny chances, getting into the pool one toe at a time. With Barnabas now in the bedroom, teeth on parade, Curtis is going in up to the waist.

On this day in 1967, the Black Panthers invade the California statehouse and call for increased gun rights. At the time, Governor Reagan was baffled by this. Nevertheless, the modern gun rights movement was born.