The Dark Shadows Daybook: DECEMBER 18

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1970: Episode 1174/1175

As Quentin’s trial heats up, why do Letitia and Desmond find themselves on the stand for crimes of the black arts? Letitia: Nancy Barrett. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Samantha is confounded when her actual “Joanna Mills “ plot seems undone by an actual ghost. Gerard and Dawson plot to draw in Letitia into the trial. The next day, her testimony accidentally hangs Desmond with the blame for bringing the head to Quentin. Desmond is discharged as advocate and charged with witchcraft, too.

So, he spells it ‘Zachery.’ Well, there you go. 

And in such a nutty font. Why not? Especially when he uses it in a book that gets Desmond, Quentin, and Letitia -- by implication or by quote -- by the short hairs. One of the reasons I prefer the 1840 witch trial to the one 45 (or 3-ish) years prior is that, in this case, there’s vaguely more to have a trial about because the defendants, technically, are kinda/sorta guilty of some of the things ostensibly in the same neighborhood as the charges. It brings a challenging ambiguity to the event, and I can’t say that about 1795. It actually has something in common with the Scopes trial. Beyond the fact that John Scopes taught evolution in neither Dayton nor Collinsport.

In both of the cases, the issue -- as pop history understands it -- was not whether the practices of witchcraft and evolution were right or wrong. It was whether or not someone had broken a law. It was illegal to practice witchcraft. It is illegal to evolve in Tennessee. Quentin and Desmond certainly give them plenty of material to work with, and when I watch it, I feel like one part of culture is grabbing the other by the lapels in an attempt to talk some horse-sense.

And my, how culture has changed since Victoria’s trial. Fascinating how it’s transformed in the time since we met a ghost named Quentin, as well. In those instances, you can see snapshots of progress headed to now. Vicki, for instance, had nothing to do with witchcraft. It was an evil practice that caused misery to all. Well, all except Angelique. These things had to be secret at one time, even if tangentially involved. Victoria was from the future, for instance, and this secret would be her undoing, seen as the height of black magic. Barnabas was familiar with her secret, but gained understanding with it -- as did the audience. Little did he know that one day, by living in the future, Barnabas would be living in Victoria’s secret. And fighting for the future of it.

In 1897, Quentin II was a decent guy, eventually, despite the dark rites. Just grab a blue candle and look past them. But by the filming of the 1840 sequence, there were new household names to learn along with a new spiritual ethos on the rise. Sybil Leek and Jane Roberts, specifically, were names to know. Dark Shadows, itself, was an agent of pop cultural reevaluation. Edgar Cayce books were getting regular reprints, appealing to what would morph into the New Age movement over the next ten years. TIME Magazine asked if God were dead. It was finally a good time to be an occultist. Quentin and Desmond approach the black arts in Victorian finery, bearing full heads of hair, with matinee idol good looks and the intentions of benevolent pseudoscientists. They are not victims of mistaken identity, although they keep the occult jazz on the downlow. The villain is an ignorant society guided by the agendas of Gerard and Lamar. And the implication is that the audience will be cool with that. I suspect that’s the case. If the 1840 storyline is a herald of progress, it’s in that regard, because we’ve seen much of the rest of it before. As with much of the show, it’s cyclical storytelling; Dark Shadows returns again and again to do variations on specific themes, characters, and plot turns. Later variants may or may not be as lovable as earlier ones, but they’re always enlightening and always suitably different. In this case, what happens if we do exactly the same trial, but invert almost every important detail… down to the one-time and seeming powerlessness of Barnabas, himself.

The result is a vicious, tight courtroom drama with high suspense and genuine food for thought. This is what you get for messing around with a disembodied head.  But enough about the Scopes trial.

This episode was broadcast Dec. 24, 1970.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: NOVEMBER 28

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 908

Will a stolen radio help Paul recruit Maggie in his campaign against the Leviathans, or will Liz outwit him yet again? Paul: Dennis Patrick. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Paul is disturbed that Alexander is with David, but no one will listen to his warnings. Alexander subtly and unsubtly exerts control and coercion across the house, and Maggie finally believes Paul when she overhears the tot threaten David for a radio. It’s a gift from Roger, returned from out of town and incensed that Paul is back.

Paul Stoddard is easily the most deluded character on the show, but lovably so. He can no more escape the Leviathans than he can just kinda fly casual and drop back in at Collinwood to pick up like it’s the 1940’s. But he tries. In a show that fixates on the past, Paul Stoddard is no more guilty than many of the others. He’s one not-quite-murdered spouse above Elizabeth on that scale. Jason held her with threats. Paul doesn’t even need to do that. Perhaps of all of the DS repertory, I may feel sorriest for him. At a certain point, being financially dependent on Liz isn’t just emasculating, it’s dehumanizing. Yes, yes, I know, this is the position that almost all women were in back then, and we’re not talking Ward Cleaver money. We’re talking Jamison’s daughter money. The class differences must have been even more oppressive than the lack of autonomy. Collinwood’s been making people prisoners since Barnabas christened the tower room, and that Paul felt so desperate to hold his own that he made clearly unsavory bargains. He shows up at home despite the murder attempt he dodged last time because it’s the safest place he knows. If the safest place in the world is a bedroom across the hall from the woman who tried to bash your brains out the last time you saw her, life has not delivered a bouquet of Cuban cigars and vintage Playboys.

Before he gets to die, he becomes a WC Fields character -- mit shrewish wife, understanding daughter, and a marble-mouthed Baby Leroy of a bouncing baby Baal of a nemesis. You know, if that character were played by William Shatner’s frantic airline passenger in “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet.” It’s actually an eerie analogy. “I’m telling you, there’s a demonic kid with a thick, Bronx accent and he’s on the east wing of the mansion! You’ve gotta believe me!”

Who’s the stewardess? Maggie. Does she believe him? No. Until she does. All because the little satanic Sonny Jim wants a radio so he can rock out to some Roger Miller. And this, I can understand. But if there’s one thing he doesn’t count on, it’s the inconvenience of living on a set to a soap opera, loaded with crannies and landings and landed crannies designed for convenient eavesdropping. Let’s see if he gets his precious hamburger, now. Go back to yer stock cars, kid. Uncle Paul and your governess need a to take a meeting. He remembers Maggie from the New York Playboy Club, and he’s going to learn to do that Bunny Dip if it kills him. He’s friends with sailors like Jason McGuire, and survival is a dish best served with a Highball. At any point, Paul -- already established as a master of disguise -- may have to don the ears and tail to pass for one of the Club’s discipled, efficient, and charming servers. How many times did he evade Nicholas Blair that way? You tell me.

All seriousness aside, just like the arrival of Barnabas allowed Roger to lighten up and stop villaining around the joint, this latest turn for evil by Barnabas creates the opportunity for Roger to become the hero once again. Kind of. Paul’s flaky irresponsibility and gnawing regret make Roger seem like he deserves that “#1 Dad” mug that Liz pretended David picked out. So what if his secretary keeps thumbtacks in it? It’s not like David’s ever going to get a job at the cannery and catch him. Nevertheless, Roger is really earning it. He’s grown to love David, and that’s easier to do when your son stops trying to kill you by sabotaging your car. He brings him radios. Seems happy to see him. Roger gets mad, kind of on Liz’s behalf, that she’s letting her working class ex-husband smoke his Gauloises and wear his slippers without even the decency to sprinkle some Gold Bond in there. Of course, she’s a member of a cult, too, But even excluding those things, Roger is on a hero’s journey that would have even Joseph Campbell taking notes.

It’s heartening that Roger takes to being a dad far more easily than we ever thought. It’s equally heartbreaking that Paul tries to do the same thing, far, far too late.

This episode was broadcast Dec. 18, 1967.