The Dark Shadows Daybook: May 25

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this day in 1967: Episode 248

When Barnabas woos Maggie with a tour of Collinsport’s cozier hideaways, will Willie provide a rude awakening? Maggie Evans: Kathryn Leigh Scott. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Barnabas punishes Maggie with an overday stay in a coffin. When she returns to the Old House, her true personality seems to permanently reemerge.

We’ve been teased for long enough. Maggie Evans knows that she’s Maggie Evans, but how are we supposed to feel?

If the original viewers of the show were cheering her on, the character of Barnabas would have had no future. If those familiar with the show say they are cheering her on, they aren’t that familiar with it after all.

This is the crux of the show’s most morally challenging storyline, but it’s not morally challenging for the characters. The compass there is clear. The challenge is for you, the viewer. Do you side with the character you know is destined to save the future, motivated by love and desperation, despite knowing that he is wrong? Or do you side with the brave, tortured woman you know will be free in time? It’s an ugly choice. If I were you, I wouldn’t even dignify the question. The show is relentless in confronting us with it, anyway, even though we may equivocate with, “neither” or, “both” or, “Are you crazy?”

It’s borrowing a page from Vertigo, and in that, too, we tacitly approve of extreme behavior by men toward women because we know there is a larger purpose. The difference is that Judy is not only responsible for Scotty’s pain, but (through complicity) the murder of Madeline. And Jimmy Stewart is not an undead hemovore (in that movie, anyway). With Barnabas, it’s more complicated. Maybe. Both men are driven by love. Both men are forcibly improving class status. And both men suspect that the true object of their affections lurks within. You realize that it’s a dark Cinderella, right?

There are different and theoretically forbidden dimensions to this entire topic for both men and women. Yeah, it’s clear why it’s abhorrent. Now, let’s talk about why it’s appealing, anyway. Not okay, but strangely appealing.

For women, let’s talk about the appeal first from what’s not going on. There’s no rape, and I can’t emphasize the power of that. Despite everything that’s going on, sexual violation isn’t one of them. In fact, there’s not even the hint. This is a driven and insistent and personal desire that involves who Maggie/Josette truly is rather than what she can do. Sex is fungible. Josette is not. With that off the table, the idea of this crime is one of the most flattering in the arena of the totally reprehensible. An all-powerful uber-patriarch comes to life and has only one focus: to love. Unlike Laura, there is no sacrifice involved. Yes, yes, Maggie will become one of the living dead, but in a very attractive, powerful, immortal way and, well, you gotta die sometime.

The prime demographic here (at this point in the run) is women home at four in the afternoon every weekday. I don’t need a Betty Friedan on my shoulder to both dislocate it and tell me that there’s a good chance this viewer might feel marginalized and unfulfilled. As much as Maggie screams for pop-pop-pop, she kind of has to. The story would be over if she didn’t. No one wants their identity replaced, but from the objective view of the audience, there are worse trades given the Byronic pining of her “host.” Josette sounds pretty great, and Maggie is a character destined for exactly the fate of many viewers… the beleaguered housewife of a working-class barfly who comes home every night stinking of dead shellfish and Kools. Go to bed with Joe Haskell and wake up with Curly Joe DeRita.

It’s quite the briar patch over at the Old House, and other than forgetting the forgettable minutiae of her former life, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of privation here. Yes, lack of air conditioning, but it’s Maine, you know?



For male viewers? I’m not sure there were many back then. But it’s clear that, while Barnabas’ desperate methods are cruel, his motives are not. Jonathan Frid projected a pain, melancholy, and lingering, unresolved desire better than any other actor in the medium. We have been there. I’m not going to say “incel,” because of the terrible baggage that perfectly decent descriptor (coined as a self-reference by a woman, I am led to believe) immediately gave itself, but… he didn’t explicitly ask for this. If a grown man is sitting around watching Dark Shadows, I can tell you that either his dance card is empty or he certainly knows what an empty one looks like. And while no rational human would contemplate kidnapping and brainwashing, Barnabas is s’darn earnest that we know that his motives are pure and motivated by a sense of profound loss, one that even the mighty, 1795 storyline strains itself to justify.

The fact that Barnabas loses her repeatedly in this, concluding in the shattering realization that he has caused the (supposed) death of another innocent person, is the ultimate comeuppance. His crime? The desire to not be alone. Yes, a phallocentric quest for power, but power over what was lost. Power to undo a crime of jealousy. And not Barnabas’.

If it sounds like I’m defending the undefendable, I am. But so is the show, because this man transforms into its hero, and we all kept watching. The reasons run deep.

This episode hit the airwaves on June 7, 1967.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: June 5

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 774

Edward and Barnabas team up to destroy the vampire ravaging Collinsport… and this time, it’s not Barnabas! Dirk Wilkins: Roger Davis. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Dirk Wilkins bites Rachel and then maintains conspicuous control over Judith, leading Edward to suspect and interview Barnabas, mistaking him for the attacking vampire. When the two meet, Barnabas explains to Wilkins that his fury will not bring Laura back. Dirk responds by sending Judith to plug Rachel full of lead.

“But like a poor marksman, you keep… missing… the target.”

That doesn’t stop Dirk Wilkins from being astonishingly prodigious for a Dark Shadows villain. In the course of two episodes, he bites at least three key players and puts them under his control. If he were either less or more furious, there’s no telling what he’d accomplish. Probably end the series within a week. Then, we would send our factory owners over to his homeland to learn the Wilkinsian mindset that allows him to achieve such miracles. For Barnabas, it’s the sorcerer’s apprentice in red shoes. At one point, it looks like he’s killed Edward, too.

This is a surprisingly efficient slice of Dark Shadows. It can be easily forgotten -- to the fan’s detriment -- because the agent of vengeance is played by Roger Davis, who excels at light comedy and earnest leading manishness. Davis is an actor who has fun no matter what the circumstances, and the nutty, goth girl eye makeup and Phyllis Dilleresque hairdo makes him look and act a bit like a refugee from a Murnau movie by way of Love, American Style. Between this episode and the ones prior, he plays the series’ most frightening psychotic since Conrad Bain’s chilling turn as Mr. Wells. Is he harmless? Is he joking? No, not really, and that’s what makes him and his maniacal joy ultimately so unsettling. He spends a lot of time hiding by his empty coffin, waiting for people like Rachel or Tim Shaw to look in so he can engage them in conversation about it. He’s practically turned creeping into an olympic sport. Of course, he’s more Buck Owens than Jessie, and his blend of folksiness and angry, vaguely justified evil make him a candidate for the best Joker who never got the green wig. Best of all, he’s not a man of hollow threats. He says he’ll punish Rachel, and he actually follows through with it. Immediately. With an elaborate plan that still seems to work, despite being, you know, elaborate. And has just enough cruelty to really hurt.

Well-played. Are you sure you want to be on Dark Shadows?

The other highlight, foreshadowing what is to come, is Edward’s completely sober, almost nonchalant, interrogation of Barnabas about vampires. He’s both serious and oddly casual about the subject matter, as if he’s asking about bobcats on the property. Edward is a favorite character from 1897, seemingly prissy and ineffectual and becoming prissy and effectual. Keep an eye on him, Barnabas. You gotta sleep sometime. 

This episode hit the airwaves June 12, 1969.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: June 7

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1968: Episode 520

It’s morning at Collinwood, and Roger frets that Cassandra is gone. Julia reasons that if Trask’s skeleton is back in its shackles, which it is, his work is done. Liz brings down the room by insisting that she’s Naomi, and recreates the matriarch’s last hours. 

Julia is really getting the hang of this when she reasons that if Trask’s skeleton has returned, Barnabas will be free. Later, she rationalizes that it’s not a lie if they claim that Barnabas isn’t the same as he was in the 1790’s because the curse is gone. Sure. Why not?  She patiently instructs Barnabas that all he has to remember is one lie, as if she’s in the running to play Mrs. Iselin in the MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE sequel. With Angelique cooling off and Nicholas Blair warming up, it’s one of those transitional installments that exists to get you to the next episode, but it’s more than that. It’s a rich little gem of wacky behavior and pretty funny hand-wringing. You have to ignore the fact that it ends in an attempted suicide by a beloved lead character, and if you do, it’s a nutty ride. Any episode that begins with Roger so beside himself that he wears his alpine tweed with the attached belt along with a coordinating ascot is twenty-four minutes that commands our attention. This is a Liz Stoddard so crazy that, when she outs Barnabas as one of the undead, everyone just kind of nods and keeps going.

There are odd questions floating around, too. The primary one has to do with Liz’s fixation on being Naomi. The writers are still new to the business of having contemporary actors play characters from the past, so they continue to Oz it up by having Liz remain profoundly lost. And everyone’s getting used to it. Roger complains that Liz confused Joe for Lt. Forbes... as if he were deeply familiar with someone from over a century prior who was, despite the marriage to Millicent (that I suspect Joshua hushed up), just an annoying houseguest. Either that, or the Collins history is wildly thorough. Or maybe Roger just watched the 1795 sequence down at the Blue Whale during happy hour. Yes, we know that Louis played Joshua and Joan played Naomi, but the repeated connection really starts to sound strangely incestuous. 

But who is Liz Stoddard, anyway? It’s a question I murmur with disturbing regularity as my nightly sleep paralysis keeps me snugly entombed in the leaking sag of my round waterbed. What has Angelique done to her?  (Beyond give her something to do beyond telling Roger he’s being perfectly beastly.) There’s a weird Tao riddle going on here. Is it Liz who believes she’s Naomi or Naomi transported into Liz’s semi-beehive many decades into the future? I have no idea. My only suggestion is that, if you find yourself dealing with Angelique after playing your own ancestor in a flashback, as so often happens, be polite. And stay away from the desk in the drawing room. Antique boxes of Powdered Poison are standard issue next to the stamps and White Out.

Amidst the dark cloud that is party-pooping Naomi is a pooped party worth remembering. Barnabas goes to sleep with both Trask and Angelique running around and awakens in a world free of them. Soaps rarely take the time to celebrate these victories, and this episode does. So much so that Barnabas seems disoriented. It’s a good thing that a possessed Liz Stoddard is around to make him relive one of the great tragedies of his life and keep his boots six feet under the ground. 

Hold on. I think Nicholas Blair is about to knock. Bah, Humbert! But that’s tomorrow.

This episode hit the airwaves June 24, 1968.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: JUNE 7

By PATRICK McCRAY

June 7, 1967
Taped on this date: Episode 256

Sarah appears to Maggie, singing and playing outside the cell. Maggie asks her to stop, but this request is fated to fail.  Maggie begs her for help, but is ignored. The girl eventually leaves. Willie, having heard Maggie’s end of the conversation, asks to whom she was speaking. Maggie evades his questions, begging him for help. He explains that his will is not his own. Barnabas is even more powerful in his coffin, asleep. Willie wants to help, but can’t. He departs sadly. At Collinwood, Vicki is unable to teach David about Australia. Sending him out, Vicki asks Carolyn if she’s serious about marriage -- she is, and will marry Buzz on her own mother’s wedding day. She admits that it’s an openly self-destructive move, emulating her mother’s poor decision making. In a rare moment of stock footage, David is seen playing on a swing outside the Old House, where Sarah calls him over. Sarah tells him that she can’t find her friends. They play catch as she sings “London Bridge,” but he refuses to harmonize, calling it a baby’s song. She’s hurt because everyone in her life left her. (Welcome to the club, baby.) Willie enters to send David off, and David reports about the girl. Back at Collinwood, David tells Carolyn that Buzz has arrived on a cool motorcycle, and Carolyn tells him that they’re going steady, stopping short of admitting engagement. David tells Vicki of his meeting with Sarah, describing her as sad and dressed in an antique fashion. Back in the cell, Willie explains to Maggie that her refusal to eat will displease Barnabas. He leaves her alone, and the music box is drowned out by the sound of London Bridge as sung by Sarah. Sarah tells Maggie to not tell her big brother that she saw her.

Buzz does not appear in this episode.

It’s a big day for birthdays in the world of DARK SHADOWS. Both Diana Millay and Chris Pennock have them. Diana is best known as Laura the Phoenix, Roger’s first wife, mother of David, Edward’s wife, mother of Jamison and Nora, and Jeremiah’s first wife. She is the Mickey Rooney of DARK SHADOWS. There, a Mickey Rooney joke. Chris Pennock turns 72 today. A wildman, humorist, mystic, author, futurist, and one hell of an actor, Pennock is one gamma radiation blast away from evolving into a Marvel character I shall call The Ultimate Being.

(Episode 248 aired on this date.)

June 7, 1968
Taped on this date: Episode 520

Roger waits on the missing Cassandra when Julia enters. He’s worried that something’s going to happen. Julia tells him to trust his intuition. He decides to call the police. Barnabas enters, and Julia relates the news of Angelique’s disappearance. He fears she’ll be back any moment, but Julia thinks that Trask’s ghost has finally rid them of her. The evidence, she reasons, that his ghost will be at peace is if his skeleton is again hanging in the basement of Collinwood. Barnabas reluctantly agrees to go with her and look. The skeleton is back! Thus, Angelique is no more. Barnabas must retain hope. Back at Collinwood, Roger is fretting over matters when Liz enters, convinced she is Naomi, and that Barnabas is not dead, living in the tower room. She announces that Barnabas is one of the living dead. Julia passes it off as her madness. “Naomi” bolts away, and Julia suggests that she needs to be institutionalized or things may get worse. At the Old House, Barnabas is none too pleased with the news. Clearly, this was Angelique’s doing. Barnabas thinks it’s evidence that Angelique is alive. Julia charges him with going to Collinwood to prevent her suicide. At Collinwood, Liz signs a letter, seals it in an envelope, and then drinks a poisoned brandy, able to face Barnabas as he is. She ascends the stairs. Barnabas and Julia enter and follow her to the tower, retracing Naomi’s steps. As the poison takes hold, Barnabas enters the tower room and tries to get her to a doctor. She collapses.

So often, DARK SHADOWS works because its characters are blissfully unaware of the obvious. In this episode, Julia is like the love child of Sherlock Holmes and Jeanne Dixon. She makes deductive leaps that only a writer could provide. But what the hell, it moves the story. This episode is also the last one directed by John Sedwick, one of the key directors for the program and the man  who helmed the episodes introducing Barnabas.

(Episode 509 aired on this date.)