The Dark Shadows Daybook: April 23

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this day in 1969: Episode 743

When Laura programs Jenny to become the ultimate assassin, will Barnabas and Quentin put their differences aside to combine forces? Barnabas: Jonathan Frid. (Repeat; 30 minutes.)

Barnabas tricks his way into obtaining Quentin‘s Book of the Dead. It’s a successful gambit, perfectly timed to reveal that Laura Collins is actually Laura Stockbridge Collins, a returning fire demon from his youth. Quentin must trust Barnabas when considering his mysterious cousin against the obviously more destructive forces around him.

It should have been a matter of one world ending and another world beginning. Simple, right? There was a point when it happened before. The show shifted focus… officially. A story about Victoria changed to one where Barnabas was no longer this really interesting side character. He was the character. Where? Perhaps right before 1795 or during. During is a good choice because it starts out as Vicki’s story, but she has to be forced into a witch trial just to give her something to do. No, it’s officially Barnabas’ story. It introduces Angelique as the catalyst for his change. If she got the story moving, it’s no wonder that the show should finally resolve itself when she resolves herself. 

Batons pass hands in marathons… and sometimes they come back. Dark Shadows specializes in cycles that vary based on what’s happened in between. Even the structure of the show is a cyclical ritual. Recap. Title and theme. Narration. Resolve the recap. Add less information than it feels at the time. Unresolved crisis. Credits. 

In between all of that is where lives change, and 743 is what could and should have been the fulcrum from Barnabas to Quentin because it contains the moment any self-respecting fan is waiting for from the moment they hear that heroes on Dark Shadows didn’t stop with Barnabas. There was this other guy, Quentin. And for a time, they are both the heroes of the show and yet are constantly pitted against each other. Terrified mistrust is the one beloved and shared virtue tying all Collinses together across the centuries. It’s no wonder that Barnabas doesn’t save time by simply being honest with Quentin. Honesty bruises the gin, and the writers are going to need it if they have to unite these guys. 

Seeing them unite to deal with Laura is uniquely satisfying, and Jonathan Frid and David Selby maintain the tension with admirable gamesmanship. Bringing back Laura Collins was one of the show’s truest masterstrokes. She becomes a thread taking us from long before the appearance of Barnabas to a point even more distant in the past than his origin, and then into the fantastic future of 1897. I’m not sure what this does more of to critics of the program… prove its delightfully substantive complexity or give them ammo to cry, “Codswallop!” (By the way, that’s not asking for opinions. It’s a test with a right answer and a wrong one.) 

Laura is kind of the linchpin of this. The thing that stops Quentin‘s story from becoming the dominant one for the rest of the series is that it pretty much resolves itself in 1897. It’s extremely satisfying, but it’s brief. The story of Barnabas runs through the entire series. However, it’s fun to look at how the cycle changes itself, however briefly, and if only to comment on the Barnabas story.  Both stories involve men who cheat. Both stories involve women who are cheated on, Josette and Jenny, respectively. Both stories involve a magic user who inspires the cheating.  But Quentin’s story is far more cynical. Even though the man in it is more of a cad at the beginning, he also has much more destructive women surrounding him. Chicken or ovum?  Angelique legitimately loves Barnabas. I think it’s pretty clear that Laura has very little interest in Quentin except as an excuse to get her to Alexandria. Josette is a victim in all of this, but she is only used against Barnabas to induce guilt, anxiety, and two, at first, drive him to choosing Angelique. Laura, however, is an engine of pure destruction, which is, of course, the job of fire. Angelique is more of an elemental figure of nature, and thus, is more driven by natural urges in and around procreation and the emotional attachments associated with it. she uses Jossette, with a lot of cruelty, but it is to either get Barnabas or punish him for not attending that particular Sadie Hawkins dance. On the other hand, Laura positively weaponizes Jenny as an assassin, pure and simple. 

I’m sure the program examines Laura‘s motives, but I’m not sure they really matter. Just as Quentin is a passion driven mirror for Barnabas, allowing us to appreciate the latter‘s contemplative nuance, Laura‘s destructive nature is the perfect foil for Angelique. Angelique‘s evolving heroism is perhaps the most truly interesting part of the 1897 storyline, and by seeing her in relief to Laura, it’s easy to begin viewing her as the more sympathetic figure.  Quentin‘s storyline is ultimately less tragic in the Greek sense, but it somehow feels sadder. he is surrounded by no one who seems to really love him. Jenny is crazy, so whatever she feels is going to change in about five seconds, disqualifying it from serious consideration. And Laura is a nightmare who never really loved him. However, both Josette and Angelique genuinely love Barnabas, and this makes us continue to care about him as a vulnerable figure, because he is presented as intrinsically lovable. Why? He is ultimately a good man, and his seeming flaws, which are his conscience-based indecision and the rash action he takes to compensate, finally show themselves as virtues. No, they are not necessarily part of the masculine archetype, but that’s the point. Barnabas is an extremely feminine thinker in a world surrounded by women. Quentin shows what you get with an excess of masculine thinking. He is lust and he is action. You know, everything that a man is supposed to be. So unlike Barnabas. But it only makes Quentin a magnet for women to exercise their wrath for wrath’s sake. And it also manifested self in the nature of his curse: he is revealed as the savage, lone wolf who never finds a pack.

If the largely feminine audience always liked Barnabas, but could never quite identify why, the presence of Quentin defines it by implication.  It’s the show saying, “OK, now here is a traditional man with the traditional psychological traits of a man. Yeah, he’s a lot of fun, but he also winds up sad and alone. look at Barnabas. Not really the traditional masculine figure at all. And he ends up being all the better for it.”

Television at this time was beginning to explore these redefined models of manhood in characters like Spock. but Spock’s decisions seem to originate somewhere between the cultural requirements of being a Vulcan and actual biological pre-determinism, also associated with being a Vulcan. Barnabas comes about it simply by thinking a little differently. In many ways, he exhibits the sort of masculine representation that we would see in someone like Hawkeye Pierce, so someone get him a martini.

Seeing Barnabas and Quentin working together on magical workings in this episode, we begin to enjoy the synergy possible when the two men combine to take power back from a strictly vengeful figure like Laura. Audiences, desiring both men, briefly had their beefcake and got it to bite their necks, too. This was on the mind of the zeitgeist, echoing the most psychologically insightful episode of Star Trek, “The Enemy Within.”  With that, author Richard Matheson concluded that the balanced masculine psyche required both the Barnabas side and the Quentin side. Dark Shadows has a slower burn, and eventually, and subtly, champions the feminine thinker over the masculine one. I would imagine that this is certainly a more appealing conclusion for a largely feminine audience, many of whom were dreading the daily return of their mid century modern nightmares of husbands who would be coming home every day shortly after the show’s closing credits would roll. But it’s also excellent modeling for boys watching the show, and somewhere, deep in the minds of mothers, there had to be more than one who quietly valued that positive modeling.  

You know, sort of. If you ignore countless moral feelings and the potential for supernatural violence. But those are aspects of Barnabas‘s personality that he doesn’t want. it’s telling that he should return to women again and again to eliminate those abilities.

Because they probably aren’t worth it.  Not really. 

This episode hit the airwaves on April 30, 1969.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: April 23

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1968: Episode 481

After being caught snooping in the garden, Angelique has no choice but to steal Dr. Lang’s Secret Anti-Witch Medallion. But first, she’ll need a good lawyer -- to hypnotize! Tony Peterson: Jerry Lacy. (Repeat; 30 min.)

As Julia nearly calls the cops on Barnabas and Lang, she is reminded of Dave Woodard’s murder. Later, she and Barnabas fence over Lang’s plan, keeping the threat of Angelique in focus, which is easy because he catches her snooping on them. Later, she notices that Tony Peterson looks like Reverend Trask and relishes the irony of making him her slave to fetch Lang’s Secret Anti-Witch Medallion. Lang is duped into leaving his home, and when he realizes the deception, rushes back.

Reliable histrionics rule the day as Grayson Hall explores a completely understandable meltdown for Julia as she tries to decide whether to drop a dime on Barnabas for perhaps the last time. Not to be outdone, Addison Powell is again topping everyone, combined, as he reels with the news of missing medallions and dummy requests to render medical aid. Addison Powell was a serious actor, and yet… I have to wonder if anyone on the show asked him to tone it down, because his singularly athletic acting approach makes Keith Prentice sound like Ricky Jay at his most Atlantic School wooden. I think Powell would have just said, “The part said mad scientist, so I’m playing a mad scientist. What else am I supposed to play? ‘Bemused resignation’? By the way, once we go off the air in the afternoon, our prime demographic’s biggest concerns are cooties, geometry tests, and meat loaf.

Amazingly, Addison Powell plays a character who seems to know he’s trapped on a soap opera named ‘Dark Shadows’ and has adopted a defensively broad acting style to dupe producers into thinking he’s not in on it. He just needs to pull out the aces when the time is right.

In short, Roger Davis is about to get his face ripped off, and Julia decides to call the cops, despite the fact that Barnabas needs the face.

And then life wasn’t so easy.

Dark Shadows is a frustrating show by design because it’s reliably realistic in the way that matters. Like life, we know how it’s supposed to go. And unlike life, we know where it’s going. Julia and Barnabas are friends, and once the show comes back from 1795, it’s a different show and they’re pals real fast, right, because that’s the good part and we like the good part, right?

The tone above gives the answer. Of course it’s not that easy. From the most macroscopic perspective, this is true because we need it to be. It tells us that we are not alone in our frustration with progress toward the inevitable. Life should not be two steps forward, three steps back, but it is. It’s what makes Dark Shadows frustratingly slow, infinitely watchable, and the most identifiable on TV.

Actors like Jonathan Frid and Grayson Hall excel at navigating this peculiarly existential angst. As the episode begins, Julia contemplates what would have once been no dilemma at all. Face stealing is a crime, after all. Now? She’s so far down the rabbit hole, it’s an option to be debated with her soon to be best friend, Barnabas. Together, they are the Oliver and Lisa to Collinsport’s Hooterville. But, as Lang might do in an “experiment,” reverse the genders. Grayson is Oliver, trying to impose the last wisps of order on a maelstrom of weirdness. The more they try, the more they fail. Barnabas learned long, long ago to just go with it. Yes, Barnabas is our Eva Gabor. But I don’t need to tell you that. At the same time….

Barnabas Collins is the man that Angelique made him. Is he a paragon? In some senses. He’s also a hero who kills in cold blood and then sucks it dry it as a warning to anyone who might dream of crossing him. He’s a benevolent gentleman -- and he’s also the most brutal, sadistic, and vindictive dweller of the night to stalk the small screen. That Angelique should warm to Jerry Lacy’s vaguely bewildered Tony Peterson is obvious. It’s not that she has the opportunity to romance the great witch hunter. No. She finally unites with the man who joined in to inaugurate the undead living nightmare that binds him nearly two centuries later. When Barnabas grabs her and scolds her in front of Julia like the sitcom snoop she’s become? The destined bond of Trask and Bouchard is upgraded to inevitable.

Why Barnabas? I mean, I know literally “why,” but Dark Shadows is an engine of celebration of punishments that exceed their crimes by infinite degrees. So, why Barnabas? Why ANY of us? One of the reasons that Dark Shadows speaks to us is that it features characters trapped in a dishonorable world that nonetheless trumpets honorable standards regardless of those trapped in the chasm of the disparity. Depending on the storyline, Liz, Victoria, Maggie, and even NeoRoger sit with heads high and noses higher as everyone else fights backstairs battles quietly enough to not disturb the sherry break… taking it into the hall or Parallel Time if necessary. Barnabas is the ultimate victim of circumstance, as are we all.

But poor Tony Peterson may take the urinal cake of cosmic suffering in this one as we really kick off what would go on to become the most artistically successful spin-off of the Dark Shadows Universe, and that’s the perverse chemistry of Lara Parker’s evolvingly impish Angelique with long-suffering everyman, Jerry Lacy’s Tony Peterson -- the Man with Trask’s Face -- as they team up in the finest of the Big Finish productions, from the pen of the masterful Mark Passmore. It’s the least likely pair on the show, but with the two most unpredictable and autonomous characters in the ensemble, taking things Beyond Bewitched and perhaps even Beyond Westworld. Peterson handily inherits the throne of Callin’ Shenanigans from Harry Johnson’s fugitive father, Bill Malloy, but unlike Malloy, he hasn’t the luck of being thrown off a cliff by Matthew Morgan. Stuck with someone -- Angelique -- whose kindness comes only when it’s convenient, we have the one sap in Collinsport incapable of doing (much) wrong. He and Barnabas are strange brothers orbiting around Angelique… vaguely trying to do something right and receiving the proportionate punishment for it. But don’t we all? And by seeing it on Dark Shadows, that strange spookhouse progeny of James Whale and WC Fields, we can just barely survive it.

This episode hit the airwaves April 29, 1968.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: April 16

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 738

When Dirk Wilkins works in the Ra, Laura comes back for more. But Quentin is Set to douse her flame for good. Dirk: Roger Davis. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Dirk instinctively recites a magical incantation that brings Laura back from the brink of death. She confronts Quentin, who has to deal with the strong emotions of Jamison, who has become very dedicated to his mother. Barnabas does an hilarious double-take upon entering Collinwood and seeing his former aunt alive and well.

Technically, this is about Laura demonstrating her powers by returning from the brink of death -- thanks to Roger Davis and his mustache, the eternal reasons for the season. But that’s not what leaped out to me. Yes, it’s a fun episode, full of the arch moments, preening, and catty revelations that make 1897 great again. That’s why I chose it. That’s the experience I thought I would have, and it didn’t disappoint in those regards. But I didn’t realize I would tear up.

1795 is the story of how a boring man became an interesting one... but in an often boring way. 1897 is about how an interesting man became a boring one… but in an always interesting way. When does Quentin’s transformation -- his REAL transformation -- start? As well it should, it starts with Jamison. He’s the end of the journey, with a resonance that rings in Quentin’s ears long after death. He’s also a completely modern man-in-the-making. He’s the bridge between the world of gas lamps and gas guzzlers. The works of Lara Parker, author, notwithstanding, we know dashedly little about Jamison. But we can tell a lot about him by who loves him, teaches him, and sticks up for him.

Of course, it’s Quentin. And if Jamison is the Victorian era’s ambassador to the age of modernism, then Quentin is the ambassador to Jamison. You can see the culture buckling through the eyes of Quentin. In a world of rules and strictures, Quentin’s every breath is an act of defiance. It’s a shame that, when he arrives at the modern world, the man is too scarred to enjoy it. He was, perhaps, too much of the antithesis to Edward. But Jamison can be something more than either of the men alone, and I think Quentin knows that. Edward’s too far gone, and so is Quentin. Carl doesn’t count, and Judith (literally) doesn’t have a vote in the matter.

This comes into focus with the twinkle-eyed sincerity of his shameless manipulation of the boy. If Jamison came in from school, terrified over dreams, Edward would have sent him straight back with no sympathy. Quentin understands. And when Jamison has qualms over waking a servant to make him tea, Quentin has no stake in the hierarchy (except, perhaps, being in good with the boss when he finds himself in old age). He explains to Jamison that he’ll be at the top and needs to get used to the idea. Edward might have shamed him with the lesson; Quentin inspires. He does that out of expediency and love. David Selby’s miraculous range comes through once more, suggesting that Dark Shadows was a vehicle built for over two years just to accommodate his talent. Because he’s both totally serious and completely opportunistic. Maybe it’s one and the same for Quentin. Maybe he doesn’t need to lie to get what he wants. He just wants things he rarely has to lie about, because everyone knows he’s a bottom-feeding scoundrel with the tastes of a hedonist. It’s when Quentin wants something loftier that we have to wonder. In 738, there is a benevolent purity to the con. Like so many before and after him, Quentin knows he’s doomed, himself, and fights for a better Collins. That’s the transformation that’s been building in the show since the 1795 storyline. Barnabas is infected by the outside influence of foreign magic and rejects it. Quentin is saturated with it so far he’s forgotten who he was prior. It’s the threat of Laura that initiates his thoughts of the man he can be with it, however.

Appropriate that Barnabas enters to see her just as she’s really spreading her plume. If Quentin becomes his second brother-not-brother, it fits that the same catalyst for the alien and occult also infected his first brother-not-brother, Jeremiah. He escaped Laura twice. There is something patterned about dark haired, baritone, Collins men (and Roger) finding their downfall in blonde women (sometimes wearing wigs) with penchants for magic. Somebody write a dissertation already, I’d do it here, but I got two shows in Vegas tonight.

Laura has encountered the Barnabas bullet twice. She and he are almost as linked as he and Angelique, except here, he’s simply an adversary… and it’s a way for him to get a perspective on an “Angelique-type” from the outside. Ironic that they should miss each other in the 1960’s by only a few weeks. It’s the great issue of the Marvel Comics/Dark Shadows What If? that never happened.

This episode hit the airwaves April 23, 1969.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: April 23

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 218

Barnabas asks for the Old House from Roger and Liz. The former seems enthusiastic, but the matriarch is undecided. Meanwhile, Jason threatens Liz to not ask too many questions about the missing Willie. He and Barnabas meet.

Roger inaugurates the episode by dismissing Jason and Willie as a “couple of sea tramps,” as if he were living in a 1930’s cartoon. Which is a pretty likely, apt description of Roger’s later world now that I ponder it. I wondered why Roger was so likable in this episode, and it made me realize the profound impact of Barnabas on this world. Roger is a consummate snob at the top of Collinsport’s food chain. It humanizes everyone else to have him as society’s unfair and out-of-touch judge and jury. But after the many hours that a soap opera forces you to spend with a character, either general affection or Stockholm Syndrome is bound to kick in. It's natural to develop a fondness for them, even if they start out open (and remain) something of a villain. This is certainly the case with Roger. To whom can he look to find a superior? Absolutely no one, and that's the point. (And I'm not counting his sister in this case.  Joan Bennett is more of a deity then a human.) In fact, Roger doesn't even really have an equal. In a world without that social Swiss army knife, Professor Stokes, Collinsport is a lonely place to be for the most important man in it. Until Barnabas. Not only does he become the main bad guy for a time, but he also tops Roger in the social savoir-faire department. Instead of having to implicitly or explicitly passed judgment on everyone else, Roger can simply relax, have a brandy, and get down to some old-fashioned banter with another confirmed Bachelor. No wonder he wants him in the Old House nearby. It's clear the writers enjoy it, and so does Louis Edmonds. Everyone gets to lighten up a little bit with the character who was destined to be lovable.

On DARK SHADOWS, the aristocracy may be in charge and they may pass judgment on everyone else, but all of that judgment goes both ways. We may dream of being (or at least having the wealth and maneuverability) of a Collins, but we also get to be one of the gang at the Blue Whale, makin’ fun ‘o those fat cats in the spooky joint on the hill. At least, until Barnabas comes along. Then, as the show shifts so that he is our focus, rather than being on Vicky or Burke, and it becomes less and less important to see the aristocracy as pitiful. They are neither pitiful nor laudable. They simply are.

If the characters on DARK SHADOWS speak any language, it is fluent implication. Usually, it's Roger, and it's usually when he's trying to weasel out of something. In this, the war of words is between Jason and Barnabas. Jason spends most of his time making veiled threats. He’s no match for Barnabas, and Barnabas knows it, and Jason knows that Barnabas knows it, and Barnabas knows that Jason knows that he knows it. The result is that Jonathan Frid smiled as Barnabas, an event so rare that, when he saw it, it meant six more weeks of Parallel Time.

Barnabas more-or-less gets the Old House. 1795 wasn’t even a glint in Dan’s eye, but he could not have set up the mythos more perfectly. Of course, Barnabas wouldn’t want Collinwood. The Old House was his home; Collinwood was the retirement village for mom and dad. What kind of show spends nearly a year setting up the location for a protagonist they don’t even mention for nine months or so? This one.

This episode hit the airwaves April 27, 1967.