The Dark Shadows Daybook: January 3

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 665 

By PATRICK McCRAY 

Everything’s at stake when Barnabas ends his trip to 1795 by saying goodbye to Vicki… and hello to sending Angelique back to Hell in a fiery flambe of just desserts. Barnabas Collins: Jonathan Frid. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Angelique gloats that Vicki will be revived from torpor only to awaken in a coffin, unable to escape. Barnabas, hearing of this, wryly retorts by having a torch-wielding Ben burn her alive. Barnabas then sees Vicki off to her future with Peter Bradford, at peace, happy that she is simply alive. Unable to will himself back to 1968, Barnabas reasons that he must return to the 20th century the way he reached it the first time, in his coffin. As he starts his descent into suspended animation and ensures his coffinback and tray table are in their full, upright position while his carrion luggage is stowed under the sepulcher in front of him, Nathan Forbes seemingly stakes him.

The challenge with Dark Shadows — on both sides of the screen — was and is monotony. Soap operas fill the most hours possible with the least amount of story that they can. People may only tune in once a week. Certainly, the key demographic, housewives, were taxed with myriad distractions throughout the day. In many ways, it is “anti-storytelling.“ The virtue here is not economy nor even detail, but the believability that comes with intense, regular familiarity. That’s what makes them feel so strangely realistic. But sometimes even soap operas have to abandon that tidal rhythm and begrudgingly let one world end and another world begin. 

Welcome to Terra Nova. Dark Shadows has six milestone moments that define its arc, and this is the third, marking the middle of the series in both its episode run and emotional journey. Of course, they return to 1795 for it. This is, figuratively, where it all began. There is more going on in this 24 minutes of television than in 24 entire episodes of the average show. And that’s because, perhaps, there isn’t. That’s what you get when you finally enjoy the payoff for nearly 450 episodes, giving Barnabas about as much cathartic satisfaction and growth as he’s going to be allowed. 

It’s an invitation to appreciate the five-act structure of the series. If everything before Barnabas is Act One, then this ends Act Two. 665 bookends a story that conceptually begins in 1795 for both Vicky and Barnabas. It ends there, as well. If the two characters are strange mirrors of each other, orphans out of their native eras, the most crucial parts of their lives begin and end in the overlap: 1795. Twice, at least. 

The first act of Dark Shadows introduces Victoria. The second introduces Barnabas and focuses on their interaction, with 1795 as a fulcrum for both of them. For him, the arc actually begins with her first trip to 1795. It also ends in the most appropriate yet unlikely of places: in her second trip to 1795. (During his second journey there, as well.) After Vicky finally departs with Peter Bradford (to no doubt die of dysentery on the western frontier, which was probably New Hampshire), we look at the other unstuck time traveler, Barnabas, perhaps to see what kind of humanizing effect she had on him. He once again has to say goodbye to a woman he ostensibly loves, but this time, it is willingly. That is a Brobdingnagian leap for a man from his era. Few have suffered as much as he has in the pursuit of love, and his newfound sense of easy confidence evidences one of his greatest transformations.

Although fate again thrusts him to 1795, Barnabas begins the conclusion of Act Three in 1897. It’s as if he keeps returning for a reset, like some sort of perverse variation on Groundhog Day. With differences. In 665, he returns to his point of origin to demonstrate emotional mastery. At the end of 1897, he returns to see that he is the master of nothing. Forces far larger than he make a mockery, and perhaps even a Macarena, of his well-earned autonomy. And why does this happen? Why is it important? Is it to ridicule what he has accomplished? Perhaps. But perhaps some of it alleviates him of responsibility. Yes, absolutely, he is captain of his own ship and master of his own maturity. Yeah, yeah we get it. And that’s just ducky. However, too much reliance on that mentality can lead to total devastation… if forces genuinely beyond your control have conflicting plans. That takes us into Act Four, where Barnabas becomes even more of a storm-tossed ship, first as a Lambchop-tic puppet, composed of a sock seemingly worn by the robust actor William Conrad over a week in August. It concludes in Gerard’s Siege of Collinwood in 1970, demonstrating to Barnabas that while he may have control of himself, he has no control beyond. So, 1840’s Act Five is a chance to reconcile self-control while accepting that it has human limits. What’s left? The necessity of trust. He chooses to trust Angelique as much as he trusts Julia and overcoming his most tragic flaw— a resistance to forgive. Primarily, himself. Of course, forgiveness is easy to muster when you and the other person have hundreds of years to evolve after the inciting incident. His reward? Angelique, shot and killed. And, you know, that’s a thing. I think we can all admit it. And she is shot by a Trask, seeking revenge for the death of a father he didn’t even know. This proves that carrying a grudge, at some point, is more of a hobby than a righteous cause. That’s what it was for Barnabas. It’s certainly what it had become for Angelique, and it’s over the course of the 1840 storyline that we see her realize it, and give it up.

And that’s the story of Dark Shadows.

Episode 665 shows Angelique at the opposite end of her own forgiveness spectrum. We can buy a certain amount of infuriated jealousy. But at this point, Josette is dead. So, that’s out-of-the-way. Cross that one off the to-do list. Naomi is dead. Nathan Forbes is finally in a dance belt. You know, everyone is pretty miserable. So, you would think that Angelique’s work is done. But, like Sammy topping music with trick shooting and celebrity impressions at the Coconut Grove, she has to murder Vicki. Twice. Hanging, of course, because, you know, tradition. And then she has to plan on reviving her inside a coffin to die all over again. Why? I guess because Barnabas loves the gal or something. But the fact that Vicki’s running off with Roger Davis should be punishment enough for Barnabas. It’s not like he has a shot. No, here, she is drunk on evil to an extent that would have shamed Herbert Lom in a later Cluseau movie.

Perhaps Angelique has to be that evil, mechanically, because they want to reverse engineer this whole thing to justify the incredible, Fantasy Island moment when Barnabas opens the door so that Ben Stokes, who’s been waiting with a torch for Christ-knows-how-long, can light her up. It’s a great moment. Despite our love for Angelique, there’s nevertheless something satisfying in it. 

Because we know she’ll be back. She’s just gonna go to Hell for a little while and then show up in 1897… with a considerably improved attitude I might add. They all know this by now. I mean, I’m surprised that Barnabas didn’t pack a lunch for her, like Charley’s wife handing him a sandwich on her endless MTA iniquity. It’s not really an execution. It’s just calling the Uber a little early.  

That moment, and the sentimental moments between Barnabas and Ben later on, are necessary reminders about this hero. We met him as a lone agent out-of-time, defined by the friends who can never truly understand him. As unflagging as Julia and Willie are, they are constant reminders that he is not home. Not really. In 665, we are warmed and saddened to learn why. There is something truly grounding about this stranger, normally stranded in a strange land, in the company of his best friend. Someone that no one in the 20th century, save Vicki, knows. It puts his character into context and it puts his heroism into context and it puts his loneliness into context. 

And maybe that’s ultimately why 1795 is such a nexus. Ben Stokes. As life becomes increasingly monstrous, Ben rises to the challenge with ever-greater humanity. He’s both a servant, like Vicki and an occasionally ruthless man-of-action — with a heart the size of Canada — like Barnabas. 

Maybe 1795 isn’t home. Maybe Collinwood and the Old house are not Home. Maybe Ben Stokes is home.

Seen like that, I understand why Barnabas feels so alone without him. 

This episode was broadcast Jan. 10, 1969.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: DECEMBER 27

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1968: Episode 660

Barnabas may be able to defy the centuries to save Victoria, but can he defy Julia? Julia: Grayson Hall. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Spurred by a photo that Quentin had David plant, Barnabas is convinced that he should go back in time and save Victoria Winters from being hanged as a witch. Stokes and Julia voice doubts, but the appearance of graves from the past convince him that he must proceed.

Finding purpose. It’s an onus for everyone. For Barnabas, even moreso, and the sheer amount of Dark Shadows makes it more than possible for him to explore that question… it makes it essential. At a certain point, what else are you going to do with these people for hundreds of hours. They can’t drink brandy and talk about a pen forever.

For the first time, we really see Barnabas contending with living in the past and present at once. At least, for the first time since his arrival and conversion. Just because he’s no longer a supernatural man doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling the effects of the supernatural. The show opened the time travel can o’worms when Barnabas was first unleashed. Unusual time travel, but time travel nonetheless. We are all time travelers in a very similar sense, just on a different scale. One of the reasons the show resonates is that the past is always living with us… and living us… whether we like it or not. Conventional wisdom tells us not to focus on that. It’s pointless. But Barnabas has no choice, and here he’s confronted with a chance to do something about it. Will it change him? No. It will change others, and changing others for the better, rather than the worse, is perhaps one small way he can make cosmic amends. With Nicholas Blair out of the way, Barnabas is on the other side of intimidation. After he smashes the equipment to revive Eve, we see a different character. While the past thirty or so episodes have been a warmup, now Barnabas at his best and fullest is striding onto the field. It’s an appropriately timed emerging, since it’s in the service of taking the baton from the retiring protagonist. Fitting that it should happen in 1796, the year he left his home and the year she finally found hers — both in a life after death after life.

The show rarely deals in parallelism and metaphor, but it reaches for something beautifully sophisticated here. Julia takes on the role of parent, telling Barnabas again and   again he can’t will himself through time. Similarly, Barnabas tells the children they can’t go to Boston. David becomes a strange conscience for Barnabas when he complains that adults get to do as they please, only to be told it only seems this way. But this clearly sticks with Barnabas as he realizes that he does have free will, and that living a life where it is inhibited is to live the life of an intimidated child. He’s not even going to be intimidated by his own past, as we see when he comes as close as possible to outing himself to Stokes, only to be stopped by Julia, coughing like a sitcom character in a hamfisted coverup.

This begins a story that both stands independently, like a primetime episode, and connects the beginning of the series to its eventual resolution. Victoria has come looking for a purpose, and Barnabas will end by finding his. In between, they meet. 630 comes roughly halfway through the series. No episode nor arc could be more fitting.

This episode was broadcast Jan. 3, 1969.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: JANUARY 3

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 665

Angelique explains to Barnabas that Vicki was under her protection when she hanged, and would come back to life. True? False? Doesn’t matter. Barnabas and Ben have had it, and simply burn Angelique to cinders. Good riddance. Turns out, she is alive and tearfully leaves Barnabas with Peter Bradford to go west, where medical care is even worse than on the east coast. She still doesn’t understand. Meanwhile, Countess Natalie and Millicent discover that Barnabas is a vampire. As Barnabas sentimentally parts from Ben with orders that he be chained “alive,” they summon Nathan Forbes. The trio enters the “secret” room in the mausoleum, lift the coffin lid, and slam a stake downward.

If all of DARK SHADOWS moved at the pace, decisiveness, and economy of 665, Sam, Gordon, Ron, Joe, Violet, and Malcolm would have needed suites at Windcliff within a week. It’s a marvel to behold. I think twice as much happens in these twenty-three minutes than in the first twenty-three weeks of the show’s run. You know, back when it (felt like it) took Liz five episodes just to answer the phone. It is a marvel of satisfaction, putting an “I’ll always remember you, Scarecrow” finality to the story of Victoria Winters while giving Barnabas a new life as the Rick Blaine of the occult. We’ll always have Collinsport.

So many great moments of bait and switch. The writers have built a Disneyland of continuity and expectations, and 665 is an e-ticket ride. And the last turn is a doozy because it’s seemingly NOT a bait and switch. We think Barnabas will set himself up to die. He won’t. We think Vicki’s dead. She’s not. We think Angelique is triumphant because indecisive old Barnabas couldn’t possibly have had his limit of her shenanigans to the point that he’s happy to burn her alive. She isn’t and he is. And it goes on. The episode is punctuated by Nancy Barrett’s most surreal performance, suggesting that Millicent may indeed be insane rather than idiotic. As the episode ends, DARK SHADOWS presents emotional payoffs on a WRATH OF KHAN scale and frequency. See… Barnabas burn Angelique alive! See… his heart collapse as the optimism that she has transcended death turns into the resigned acknowledgement that she’s in Peter Bradford’s arms. If Barnabas’ upper lip were any stiffer, you could use it as a straightedge. Then, the goodbyes. Vicki to Barnabas. Barnabas to Ben. People leaving love behind for totally arbitrary and totally logical reasons. Which is always the way.

And finally… just when we’re used to the episode pulling fast ones, Barnabas is staked. Or is he? It ends with a boom heard ‘round ABC. For good reason. 1796 is over, as is (most of) the emphasis on Josette and Angelique and all of that is behind us. Barnabas has… almost… put his past to rest for good. It’s time to move forward to 1897.

On this day in 1969, TIME MAGAZINE actually got it right when they declared the crew of Apollo 8, which orbited the moon, as the Men of the Year. As I’ve discussed before, the horrors of 1968 make 2017 look utopian.  That incredible, insane, risk-rife trip defied the pessimism that would define the 1960’s. Still, chowderheads at the time contended that we were wasting money by sending men to the moon while Americans were still starving. 1968 was a monument to tragedy. If we’re going to throw money away, let it be in defiance to that.

In the name of hilarity, go look up why Apollo 8 was called “The Vomit Comet.” One more reason these guys are heroes. YOU spend a week in space surrounded by Frank Borman’s bodily fluids and see if you don’t feel heroic by surviving.