The Dark Shadows Daybook: March 5

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1968: Episode 446

When Barnabas reveals his nocturnal activities to Joshua, will the patriarch find the inspiration to shoot? Joshua: Louis Edmonds. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Joshua learns of Barnabas’ curse. He charges his son with killing himself when he must lead a confused Naomi back to Collinwood. After dealing with a subtle blackmail attempt from Nathan Forbes, Joshua returns to Collinwood where he shoots Barnabas.

Episode 446 goes to the heart of one of Dark Shadows’ real nightmares, and that’s the inevitable horror of worlds colliding. All horror deals with the dance between the sacred and the profane, but this show heightens the tension by casting the sacred with the epitome of American civilization. As Quentin tells Barnabas, “There is no English branch of the family.” The Collinses are wealthy, landed, sophisticated, and live in a castle forged from the hard-won fruits of capitalism. They may honor the dead, but their home is a monument to living. Confronting them with horror is to confront America with horror, and cloaking them in the sanctity of economic power makes them even more American than the Cleavers. Because, by god, they Made Something of Themselves.

But other than display Buckwheatean fright, what else is the sacred supposed to do when the profane decides to stretch out on the couch, grab the remote, and announce it’s there to stay? Exactly. And that’s the limit of horror. But not on Dark Shadows and not on episode 446. Call it turgid or call it intellectual, but in Collinsport, horror speaks and horror listens. Barnabas speaks and Joshua listens. And vice-versa. Perhaps we can thank the strictures of standards and practices or the lightyear-long format of soap opera storytelling. Either way, that chance for a dialogue is a chance to pause and think about what gives the profane its profanity. And by profanity, I simply mean otherness.

When Barnabas fesses up to Joshua, substitute anything uncomfortable between generations and sensibilities for “vampire” and you’ll see what I mean. In the words of John Wayne, homosexuality is the obvious choice, but the idea of otherness is hardly restricted to that. What’s amazing is that, while Joshua obviously rejects his son’s new diet, he doesn’t necessarily reject his son. It would be a poor choice as a human and as a prominent figure in a narrative. Inevitable? Maybe, but Joshua tries everything in between. And by “everything,” I largely mean encouraging his son to kill himself. Even when Joshua pulls the trigger, it’s as much to confirm Barnabas’ inhumanity as to end it.



Few suffer like Joshua, and with standards like his, he sets himself up for it. But these standards are tempered by a depth of reluctant compassion that few on the program share. These are traits that his son will inherit as he manages his own ad hoc family of Julia and Willie in the twentieth century. Like so much in Dark Shadows, the extremes he reaches in the attempt to rationalize Barnabas go to the farcical. For all of it’s drama, it’s a legitimately funny episode. Barnabas has some wonderful takes as he listens to Joshua’s suggestion that all will be made right by a fair trial. More, later, when he tries to coax Joshua into coming to the vampire conclusion without saying “the word,” a bit like an occult version of $20,000 Pyramid.

But the episode is hardly about only Joshua. Barnabas’ plight demands that viewers see events through his eyes, also. Because this isn’t a veiled metaphor for something like homosexuality. This is about a life that requires killing others. The choices have a cruel honesty to them. Barnabas is feeding off of the poor, and class differences have already dehumanized them in the eyes of his echelon. Yes, yes, it’s outrageous, his fellows might secretly opine, but that’s what they’re there for. The shocking message of Barnabas is that he’s just making the suggested into the literally, and doing so in the frankest way. Maybe that’s the secret reason Barnabas is, at once, so cold and yet so passionate about his crimes. He’s shocked that he doesn’t care more. Barnabas’ attacks correspond less with his biological needs and more with his emotional life. We see him as a vampire, off and on, all the time. He’s not always feeding, and it’s clear that he doesn’t really need to. In fact, he stops himself with little consequence all the time. He’s rationalizing his crimes with what may or may not be an impulsive thirst. Perhaps he’s ultimately looking for an end from Joshua or at least his understanding. If we look at what Barnabas does for the lion’s share of the series, it’s make up for this dark impulse. Barnabas gets labeled as a mere serial killer, “The Collinsport Strangler,” but evidence suggests that, because he doesn’t need to kill (as often) that may actually be what he is.

The thousand yard stare which Barnabas gets when contemplating his crimes may not be from the fact that he couldn’t help it, but that he could.

This episode was broadcast March 11, 1968.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: March 5

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 706

Barnabas learns that Edith knows his identity as a vampire -- the true family secret could get out at any moment as she mutters the word, “mausoleum” to all within close earshot. He orders the mausoleum cleared before meeting Edward, Judith, and Quentin’s brother: Carl. The new Collins holds Barnabas at gunpoint with a trick pistol that ejects a flag that says, “FIB.” He insists that they’ll be great friends. Soon, Edith dies while Edward swears to find out the secret, anyway. 

Larry David fans take note; DARK SHADOWS is a prequel to SEINFELD. SEINFELD gone wrong. That’s all I can think when I watch 709. I had a friend who contended that you couldn’t understand SEINFELD if you weren’t from New York. Guess where she lived?

Of course, she was wrong. To understand SEINFELD means to be one of two types of people, and geography is irrelevant. There are those who enforce the arbitrary rules of society, and there are those who -- just to maintain sanity -- have to bend, bob, and weave around those rules just to get through the day. The rest of society sees us as villains and weasels. In truth, we’re just getting by as the loyal resistance. Barnabas is one of us. In fact, most of the more interesting characters on DARK SHADOWS are. We can’t all be Edward Collins, as easy as his life of constant and furious umbrage would be.

Here we have Barnabas on a mission to save a life. As noble as it gets. And yet? From day one in 1897, he leads (as the title of my autobiography will read) “a life under siege.” Rarely has he had a worse day than this one, and it gives him the chance to display his greatest power ever, which the restraint he shows by not choking the living shisha out of Carl, Edward, and Magda. Yes, Angelique, Nicholas, and Adam tried his mettle and soul to the ectoplasmic marrow. These are major, existential crises. Compared to this unbroken chain of stubbed situational toes in 706? Childsplay. I mean… you show up. The matriarch goes nuts because, of course, she knows your secret. Like, the third person you meet in all of Maine, and she knows your secret. Fortunately, she’s oatmeal north of the eyebrows. Except for blurting out “mausoleum” for all the world to hear. Great. You go deal with Magda. Simple request -- move a coffin a half mile or so. Little to ask in exchange for free rent. Of course, she’s jerk, but you don’t have the time to bite her. You finally sit down and there’s a gun to your head, wielded by some greasy dweeb in brown velvet who looks like Willie. But it’s all a gag. At this point, is any of it worth it? Yes, Barnabas would have survived the gunshot, but who’s going to get his undead brains out of the carpet? I mean, before Edward minces downstairs. And what if Carl misses and puts a hole in Barnabas’ only suit? Guys, I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for this. I mean, really. Angelique didn’t get Barnabas to lose it, but this chain of inconveniences and imbeciles is enough to drive anyone over the edge. It’s like he’s landed in an I, CLAUDIUS episode in the Caligula arc. 

The interaction with Carl may be my favorite Frid moment in his hundreds of episodes. In real life, he’s an actor under unfathomable stress, cornered by psychotic, nymphomaniacal fans of all genders at every turn. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) Opening the mail is an adventure. Gravestone cookies? Passionately unwanted nudes? But he’s a Canadian aristocrat with an upper lip so stiff you could cut linoleum on it. He can hold it together. Frid was clearly channeling his fragmenting politeness in how he indulged Carl. From beat to beat, his face is an encyclopedia of WTF moments. The culmination is when Carl needs to go, and Frid -- I mean, Barnabas -- tells him, “Don’t let me stop you,” with a deadpan delivery that makes Steven Wright look like Jerry Lewis.

But he suffers in Seinfeldian silence, with no Julia nor Willie nor Stokes to whom he can kvetch. Only on a day like this could the death of the Collins matriarch signal a happy ending for Barnabas.