The Dark Shadows Daybook: June 27

Episode 1, Taped on June 11 & 13, 1966

When Victoria Winters abandons life in New York for a small fishing village in Maine, she finds the beginning and the end of the world. Victoria Winters: Alexandra Moltke. (Repeat. 30 min.)

Quick, operating definitions… “story” is the overall tale, including backstory and exposition. “Plot” is the sequence of events seen by the audience in a given presentation.

Since most viewers begin the show around episode 212, with the release of Jonathan Frid’s Barnabas into 1967, the idea of “first episode of Dark Shadows” is more academic than it might seem. Technically, “1” is indeed the first. However, while it may be where the plot begins, the story of the series has been going on for at least 18 years, with the relevant modern action beginning with the murder of Paul Stoddard. But is even that the first major event? Not quite. The story of this series begins in 1946 with the birth of Victoria Winters, whose abandonment creates the first, true, chronologically-correct mystery to contemplate. But neither of those storylines amounts to a hill of bones for the majority of audiences, since the series has moved on by the time Barnabas appears. And yet, the have value, both literally and metaphorically.

Thanks to syndication and the salad bar nature of audience-selected watching, the series begins wherever we, as individuals, want it to. Many who began in the Leviathan era simply continued back at the “beginning,” whether with 1 or 212, and as far as they are concerned, it keeps going after 1245 with episode 1. This makes Dark Shadows unique among serialized television because it’s a Moebius strip. Begin where you want. Stop where you want. The plots always fit into a larger story, and one that I hope will never be fully told.

In this sense, 1245 and 1 exist both at opposite ends of the series and as neighbors. They are bookends, yes, and they occupy the same space. Watching them together draws the series into one of the few perspectives not usually thought of, and while the plot may not be contiguous, the theme is. Important to qualify that because, yes, technically, one takes place in a parallel universe. But when the difference is 131 years anyway, I’m not sure that’s germaine. Last week often feels like a parallel universe. Primary Time or Parallel, it’s still Dark Shadows, and looking at the two literally defines the parameters of what that means.

In episode 1, a highly isolated Liz squabbles with an unusually repressed Roger over the impending arrival of a new governess. Said governess, Victoria, arrives on an evening train amidst a flashback. In it (and another), we learn that the mature orphan was hired by Elizabeth, a woman she’s never met. With no key to her past and no real path to the future, Victoria sees this as her way both out of and in to her destiny. Brooding businessman, Burke Devlin, reluctantly ushers her into the inn where both he and waitress Maggie Evans are unsuccessful in dissuading the strangely, forlornly plucky Victoria into abandoning the new job. She arrives and is greeted by Liz as the credits roll.



In episode 1245, Bramwell and Catherine survive their night in the haunted lottery room, but not before Catherine stops the ghost of Brutus from choking Bramwell, which she does by refusing to join the specter in, yes, a bizarre act of unnatural love. Morgan awaits outside, and as dawn breaks, he shoots Bramwell and carries Catherine onto the roof. There, Kendrick tussles with Morgan until the madman falls to his death. A wounded Bramwell comforts Catherine. Across the estate, a revived Melanie is rejoined with Kendrick, and the two couples celebrate having survived the last curse (of many) at Collinwood.

The differences are obvious. Both take place in vastly different time periods, literally, and by 1245, the Bryl Cream, beehives, and black & white are distant memories. Both are intense, but one is a Pirandelloesque study in existential angst and the other is a truly Gothic ghost story where love defeats the anguish of the past. Episode 1 begins just past sunset, and episode 1245 arrives with the rise of the sun.

Still, this blend of storytelling chalk and cheese both involve the same message: Collinwood (and whatever it represents) has no future unless it opens its doors. Both Collinwoods (1841 PT and 1966) are dying. Both Collinwoods are cages to trap the sins of yesterday… and their witnesses. Both Collinwoods find the eventual path to the future by embracing newcomers. Both Catherine and Victoria are of Collinwood and apart from it, and both are outsiders whose brave examples reveal the home as a place for the living more than the dead. Each is haunted (in one form or another) by the ghosts of husbands (Brutus and Paul) whose marriages gave way to disaster. By opening their fortress of aristocracy to strangers, despite its secrets (or perhaps because of them), the Collinses save themselves after decades of standing apart. They illustrate and outmaneuver the definition of insanity by, at last, trying something different.

June 27 falls at the end of Pride Month and one day before the anniversary of the Stonewall uprising. Concomitantly, Dark Shadows is cited as a place where outsiders find a haven. Which it is, but not necessarily on the surface. When looked at character-by-character, most of the outsiders are seeking a “cure” to be “normal,” a disastrous assertion. This makes the show’s sense of inclusiveness seem inarguably problematic. And yet, it’s still a tribute to inclusiveness down to its storytelling DNA.

To the outside world, Collinwood, itself, is self-alienated from any kind of healthy, normal home. It is obsessed with guilt over crimes that were all ultimately explainable. Crimes with context. Crimes that, in some ways, were not crimes. Brutus was not justified in his wrath, and perhaps Liz was. In the light of Paul’s subsequent and cruel manipulation-by-silence, he is clearly worthy of disdain. Maybe not a fireplace poker’s worth, but disdain, nonetheless. If this were a true crime, Liz would not have been forgiven by the series.  But she is. Her journey begins here, by letting in someone new. And that fact that Vicki is never revealed as her daughter makes that governess an outsider as much as Catherine Harridge. Outsiders who change that small world by asking the right questions when they don’t understand and taking decisive action against tradition when they do and when others simply accept the status quo.

Yes, microcosmically, Dark Shadows may seem to be about outsiders pursuing cures so that they may be welcomed inside. Reconsidered from a larger vantage, Dark Shadows actually reverses this. It shows an establishment saving itself by opening its doors to those who thrive outside them.

Yes, the beginning and the end of the world -- that refuses to end.

This episode hit the airwaves June 27, 1966.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: June 13

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 780

Can Barnabas stop Carl from bringing about the end of Collinwood before Trask brings about the end of Barnabas? Quentin: David Selby. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Carl alerts Trask to the threat of Barnabas.  The vampire, now allied with a Quentin who knows and accepts his secret, removes the evidence of his coffin before going on to kill Carl to save the future. Trask confronts Barnabas, and the two men await the telling dawn.

Sam Hall. Such an ear for dramatic dialogue. Properly theatrical yet always true. His plots are modulated with a pace as organic as the human heartbeat. Characters, distinct. Payoffs, rich. Yet always unpredictable. As much as I admire the exquisite writing of Gordon Russell, Sam Hall is the undisputed Master of Collinwood, and his best scripts expand beyond the needs of writing Dark Shadows and take on a storytelling voice that has the resonance of art. Immediate, yes. Written briskly and under incredible demands to produce, produce, produce. Rather than excuse his work, these facts make it all the more remarkable.  In episode 780, his skill for economy melds seamlessly with the language of the characters, the substance of their climactic exchanges, and the propulsive risk inherent in the story. Put simply, he is a poet who gets out of his own way.

The “star’ of the episode is the brutal and brisk execution of Carl Collins. Carl’s fears and desires are understandable, and considering the threat of learning that a strange relative is a ravenous, undead engine of murder, not necessarily unwarrented. We let Carl’s prior extremity and histrionics too easily overtake the fact that at last, his panic is justified. In killing Carl, Barnabas trades the life of one Collins for many. If Barnabas goes, so do Quentin and David and who knows who else. It’s time. It’s time for this story to step outside the pleasant slow burn of the soap opera model, own up to its own stakes, and make things happen. Quentin accepts Barnabas for who he is, Carl is an understandable casualty of realpolitiks, and Trask faces down Barnabas with a bold fidelity to his faith.

It’s a four-man powerhouse of storytelling. Each character evolves and takes chances that define and redefine themselves. Barnabas reclaims the feral sense of strategy that established him on his release in 1967, but with values in line with something larger than addressing his immediate pain and loss. He even dares Trask to saddle him with Carl’s murder. A rousing gesture, but an irrelevant one because Trask, justified in his hunt, has him dead to rights, despite the paucity of eyewitness evidence. When Barnabas shrinks from his cross, there is no more proof that matters. Those fine points of who-didn’t-see-what are all words, words, words under the reality of the Damoclean sunrise.

Quentin does his part as well, and this episode is a microcosmic portrait of both his overall journey and what makes him the series’ second protagonist -- yet he never loses his essential gift for guile. He goes from melancholic repose with his companion music to smugly condescending to Trask’s self-serving sense of justice. From there, he sets aside fear to see Barnabas for the man within the monster, and even collaborates to cover Carl’s death with a fittingly unsentimental show of theatrical relish, not just enacting the con, but reveling in it.

Jonathan Frid, David Selby, Jerry Lacy, and John Karlen (in his final turn as Carl, his most unusual character) all seem to know that this is an episode of substance and almost rambunctious, driven meaning for the characters. Like the writing that enflames the installment, there is a confidence in their acting. Each man, undistracted, performs with the honest solidity of performers who know their characters and take them to inevitable destinations. That sense of inevitability is not an end, Carl excluded, but a beginning. Each man has a mandate to reveal his ultimate essence, and what results is like a series of Rorschach blots that unfold with the recognizable universality of a tarot deck.

Three years after filming began, 770 was captured on that soundstage. Dark Shadows has gone from a take of ambiguity and anxiety in a darkly domestic expanse to a tight chamber piece where each player defines himself with finality and yet, above all, possibility. Always possibility.

Except for Carl.

This episode hit the airwaves June 20, 1969.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: June 5

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 252

As Carolyn begins her nightly attempt to berate Liz about the impending nuptials, Liz ends the subject by claiming to love Jason. Seeking revenge, Carolyn drunkenly takes up with a biker gang led by a vaguely affected biker named Buzz. As they party at Collinwood, Liz objects, and Carolyn threatens to deepen her relationship with the gang lord.

DARK SHADOWS returns to its prime storyline of Jason McGuire and Liz Stoddard, and thanks to the sharp performance of Nancy Barrett, it doesn’t feel like a letdown after the explosively wacky time we’ve spent at the Old House. Quite a feat on top of vampirism, kidnapping, and ghosts. It just goes to show what you can accomplish with passive aggression and an alto-voiced biker in The Wig that Would Be Szandor’s. Just as Barnabas is quick to start eying Vicki when things with Maggie swipe left, a new love is just the “I’ll show you” that Carolyn is looking for. We are, too.

Buzz. Buzz, Buzz, Buzz. You are an inexplicable gem worth explicating.

With Barnabas and the kidnapping/courtship, storytelling on DARK SHADOWS leveled up to a point from which it could never return. He feels like a total alien is the DSU and, strangely, like someone we might have met in the early, Bill Malloy days. (Just imagine the clash of those two!) Michael Hadge somehow manages to merge Russ Tamblyn with Truman Capote, and over four episodes, creates one of the show’s most memorable slices of huggably insolent, beer-swilling class envy. If Buzz had been around during the Leviathan sequence, Bruno would have surrendered and gone to work for Werner Erhard. Which is a fate I wish on no one.

As appalling (to the family) as Buzz is and will become, I can’t help but sense that history is repeating itself. If Paul Stoddard was the kind of guy to have Jason McGuire as a best friend, I think it’s safe to see him as the Buzz Hackett of the 1930’s. Just imagine what Jamison must have made of THAT! Perhaps we underestimate the old coot. His favorite uncle was sort of the Buzz Hackett of the 1890’s. Fortuna’s Wheel may have STP stickers all over it, after all.

What if Buzz had stayed around? A love triangle with Liz and Julia would have been inevitable, but beyond that, he and Willie would have either become inseparable or great friends. I can see Roger paying the scamp a small fortune to keep Willie (and Jeb and Bruno and Harry) in check as his own preferred weapon. No? Well, I can dream it, anyway. He’s a much needed, surreal vacation from the nihilistic implosion of everyone’s emotional lives at the Old House, and a perfect ambassador to ease us back into the grownup world at Collinwood.

This episode hit the airwaves June 13, 1967.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: JUNE 13

By PATRICK McCRAY

June 13, 1966
Taped on this date: Episode 1

Victoria Winters speeds by train from New York to Collinsport to take the position of governess to David Collins at the isolated and underpopulated mansion of Collinwood. His father, Roger, objects to strangers in the house. His older sister, Elizabeth, the family head, hired her. Liz stands her ground when Roger confronts her, and when she leaves, a quietly furious Roger crushes the brandy snifter in his hand. Collinsport is so isolated that the train hasn’t stopped there in five years. Vicki is curious. She was invited by post, but she’s never heard of Collinsport nor the patron. When the train arrives, Vicki is followed off of it by Burke Devlin, a brooding stranger. He knows Collinwood, and helps her to the inn, but remains strangely stoic. He advises her to avoid Collinwood, and although the innkeeper seems merry to see him, Burke has no interest in conversation. The cab to Collinsport has a flat, so she’ll be at the inn for a while. Burke receives a disturbing note and leaves for the Blue Whale. There, he meets a private detective named Strake. He’s to deliver all of the dirt possible on the Collins family. At the soda fountain, Vicki meets tough-talking waitress and gossip who warns her away from Collinwood. At the Blue Whale, Burke learns that Liz Stoddard has stayed up in Collinwood for 18 years, but there’s no reason why. Finally transported, Vicki arrives at Collinwood to be greeted by Liz.

A quiet day at DARK SHADOWS.

They did this twice, and the second go-round is what you see. The show opens with seriousness and panache, and overloads on style to a marvelously satisfying extent. Each major character is introduced with the depth and precision of etched stone. But what of the minor characters? This episode is packed with them for the sake of exposition. Jane Rose (Mrs. Mitchell) had four Broadway credits in her life and quite the varied Hollywood career. She was on FLIPPER, ROUTE 66, 48 episodes of RHODA as Audrey Dexter, and was Grandmama Addams in HALLOWEEN WITH THE NEW ADDAMS FAMILY. As a bizarre coincidence, she played “Mrs. Selby” on CO-ED FEVER. You remember that. Conrad Bain needs no introduction, just our thanks. And Alfred Hinckley, the train conductor, also played Dr. Ian Reade in ep. 846 as a doctor who treats Barnabas.

Soaked in atmosphere, this unusually metaphysical episode aptly portends the epic to come.

June 13, 1967
Taped on this date: Episode 262

Vicki gets off the phone.  They’ve found Maggie… dead! Vicki is lost in sad nostalgia for how she was treated by Maggie on her first night in town. Sam will have no funeral to feed morbid curiosity seekers. Liz tries to comfort her and moves on to a request: be the legal witness to her marriage. But, knowing the circumstances, Vicki would have to object. Marrying Jason is easier than hurting Carolyn with the truth. Vicki will let Liz know if she can be witness. Later, Vicki gives Carolyn the news about Maggie. The conversation turns to the wedding with Buzz. They argue, but Carolyn says she knows what she’s doing. Vicki implies there are things Carolyn doesn’t know. After opening the room in the basement, Carolyn says that it’s proof that Jason has no hold over her. But there may be more to the story. Vicki becomes strident in her defense of Liz. There is so much Vicki wants to say, but can’t. Carolyn storms out. On a hill with Burke, Vicki speaks of the transience of existence, lost in thoughts of Maggie. Burke wants to hunt down her killer. Vicki wonders if there was some compulsion the killer couldn’t help. Burke worries that there’s no way to stop Carolyn or Liz, and the weight it all has on Vicki. It is Vicki’s dark night of the soul. Later, Buzz returns Carolyn to Collinwood, upset that she’s canceled their plans. He wants to go, she wants to stay. She tells him that she’ll see him tomorrow; he implies that he might move on. Chump. Carolyn saw Joe out almost in a daze. It moved her to want to be alone. Seeing that Carolyn is full of sympathy, Vicki urges Liz to tell Carolyn the truth. Liz is frightened, and Vicki assures her that she will be her legal witness.

It’s one year, and where are we? It’s substantially different show than what began. The greatest mysteries in DARK SHADOWS concern whether or not -- and when -- people will take ownership of the past. Vicki, as a woman with no past, is an ideal observer. You know, like Spock. In that they both have dark hair and look good in blue. The bond between Alexandra Moltke and Joan Bennett deepens. It’s clear that the daughter has become the mother. After one year, it feels as if this story is really rounding itself out. Also appearing for the first time in Collinsport is Anthony George. With a varied career in action and adventure shows, the man born Octavio Gabriel George changed the tone of Burke at an ideal time. Psychologically healed of his thirst for revenge and in love with Vicki, the new Burke is fully believable, if very different from the serrated edge on Mitch Ryan. That is a thankless act to follow, but George put on his boots, grabbed his script, and did what actors do: their job. And with able dependability.

June 13, 1968
Taped on this date: Episode 517

Cassandra, consumed by flames, summons her full forces to extinguish them. She vows vengeance on both Trask and Barnabas. She returns home to hear Vicki on the phone with Joe, reporting that Sam’s had an accident and that she should check on Joe. Joe goes to the hospital, first, regretful that his absence allowed Sam to be attacked by Adam. But it was an accident. Adam intended no harm. Cassandra enters also. She had to see if there was anything she could do. She offers to watch Sam so that Maggie can get a short coffee break and clear her mind. Alone with Sam, Cassandra puts a powder into some water that she gives to Sam. Sam needs to tell Maggie something… Adam is his friend. It wasn’t Adam’s fault. He collapses before he can say how Barnabas knows Adam. Now, the only important thing is that he have the dream. Indeed, he does, with Vicki as his beckoner. Behind his door, he sees Maggie in mourning clothes, leaning over his casket. He awakens, screaming that he’s not dead. Maggie runs in to hear of him speak of the dream. He must tell Vicki! At Collinwood, Joe summons Vicki to the hospital, and she goes with him. From Sam’s room, Maggie calls Stokes and reports on the dream, and that Vicki is on her way. Stokes is on his way to help. Sam is convinced he’ll die and must tell Vicki before he does. Cassandra exacerbates this from afar, casting her will to Sam, because Vicki will carry it to Barnabas. Vicki arrives before Stokes and asks for Sam to tell her the dream.

A ticked-off Angelique moves the plot along faster than any other force on the show. She has gone from wanting to punish Barnabas to seeking complete eradication. This won’t be pretty. Sam has the dream curse, and David Ford really goes the limit in expressing terror. What I can’t figure out if he’s blind in the dream. It doesn’t matter. Those shades stay on. The story is that Ford insisted that he wear the glasses so that he could read the teleprompter with abandon.

June 13, 1969
Taped on this date: Episode 780

Having escaped from the secret room, Carl Collins races to others. Trask interrupts an intensely melancholy Quentin, listening to his song. He has visited to see Judith, but she’s not available. With a meeting at dusk, Quentin leaves. Later, Carl enters and finds Trask waiting and asks for Quentin or Judith, neither of whom are available. Carl slips into fear and paranoia as dusk approaches. He outs Barnabas as a vampire, and Trask accepts his invitation to go see. Trask reassures Carl that he will be safe, for he wears the cross. Barnabas rises to find that Carl has escaped, but it’s Quentin who comes through the open door. Just as Barnabas did for Quentin, Quentin tells Barnabas Quentin understands Barnabas’ mission. Now, Carl is on the loose. Quentin goes to Collinwood at Barnabas’ command; he needs to stop Carl from talking. Barnabas has other business. In the cemetery, Trask and Carl approach the mausoleum. Inside, the door is closed until Carl triggers it. The room is totally empty. Carl tries to convince Trask that he is not crazy. It just gets worse and worse. Carl runs out and Trask states that he will drive the devils out of Carl’s mind. Carl returns to Collinwood to call the phone operator. Then, all Hell breaks loose. A bat. Wind. Doors slamming. Blackouts. Barnabas’ thundering voice.It semands that he tell him who knows. Carl refuses to speak. Barnabas appears and chokes Carl, demanding the truth. He senses someone approaching the doors of the Drawing Room. He hides as Quentin enters. Quentin is shocked that Barnabas killed Carl only on a suspicion. A knock at the door… it’s Trask. Quentin answers the door, giving Barnabas time to hide the body. He is successful… until an arm pops out from behind the curtain behind Trask, comically. This is followed by his entire body. Quentin feigns panic. At the Old House, Trask visits. He claims to know the truth! Barnabas shrinks from the cross. Barnabas admits to killing Carl, because there is no proof. The only evidence that will convince Trask that Barnabas is innocent is if they stay awake through dawn. Somewhere, a cock crows.

Three things stand out to me about this episode:
1. I completely believe the fealty pledged by Quentin to Barnabas. 2. It’s fascinating to see Barnabas’ rage when it’s directed at the right person. That’s a button that Frid is loathe to press, and he’s wise to keep its use rare. 3. The wonderful farce of Carl’s body flopping out from the curtain in front of a powerless Quentin. These writers knew how to have a good time. They were just droll about it.