The Dark Shadows Daybook: May 23

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this day in 1969: Episode 765

As Barnabas pumps Beth for information, will Magda pump Quentin full of silver bullets? She’s locked, loaded, and ready to say “I’m sorry” six times in a row. Alex Stevens: Quentin Collins. (Repeat; 30 min.)

With a wolf on the prowl, Barnabas knows that Beth holds the key to its secret. Barnabas bites her, and she informs him that the wolf is Quentin and that Quentin has a legacy he doesn’t even know about: two children. Magda, rife with remorse, hunts the wolf, as the wolf stalks the estate. Finally, Magda shoots the wolf, but fatally?

It would be inaccurate and hyperbolic of me to say this episode is “pure action,” so I will. For Dark Shadows, this is pure action. And if Dark Shadows action has a name (other than Thayer David), it’s Alex Stevens. We owe him a lot. He performs several spectacular falls in this one, on par with his astoundingly Marvel Comics explosion through the Evans Cottage window earlier in the series. His greatest stunt may have involved padding on the floor, but I didn’t see it, and the sudden reality of it is stunning. On the attack, the werewolf leaps over the railing on the second story landing in the foyer, lands, and keeps going. If you own an ankle, you realize what an impressive stunt this is, simply in its blunt relatability. It’s a straightforward moment, and it may be the most magical sight on the show.

Because special effects are clearly unreal, even at their most realistic, they are inherently devoid of wonder. The great Ray Harryhausen may be a magnificent artist and technician, but magician, he ain’t. Even when his work defined ‘state of the art,’ the herky-jerky movement and weirdness of scale immediately told you to start using euphemisms like “heightened” later on lest you be harassed by his devotees.

Magic is different. Magic shows the impossible as possible and leaves as the only conclusion: this happened. At that point, apologies to the makeup crew, Stevens could have gotten away with no appliances at all. Just a t-shirt that said, “werewolf,” and we’d be sold. It’s a moment of sudden wonder, and suddenly, from the floor up, Collinwood stops being symbolic of anything and becomes a real place.

It taped today, but it played on Friday, May 30, and I think that’s a symbolic day. It’s a good day to bring in a werewolf at his most exciting. And I hope the choice was strategic. This was, for many, the last day of school for three glorious months. In the past few days, Jonathan Frid and David Selby had recorded their contributions to the album, Original Music From Dark Shadows, which would become a massive hit in that year of massive hits. Viewmaster reels were steady sellers. It was the year of the Barnabas Collins Dark Shadows Board Game. And this one, action-packed, exposition packed installment slammed the locker door on school for the best part of the best year of the best show that millions of kids had ever seen. It was the last day they had to run home from anywhere to see it, and the writers ensured that the marathon mattered. It certainly feels as if there is more screentime for Stevens than on any other episode of the program.

Dark Shadows may have very well been at its zenith. Ratings and demographics were measured differently then, and so I can’t state anything definitively about who was watching. My instinct tells me that, given the items for sale and the significance of the day, this may be one of the most-enjoyed episodes of the entire series. It was certainly the most meaningful for a nation of kids. I don’t need anthropological data to back me up on that.

A great episode? Certainly. Mature? Thank goodness, no. You have bats. Beth, with a vampire’s dream of an endless neck, bitten and controlled. Barnabas learns of Quentin’s curse, the children, and finally, what he’s doing in 1897 at all. The last part is the vegetables of the episode, but at least there’s cheese sauce. The enlightenment of Barnabas Collins has been coming for months and months, and you know the writers are planning something big when they finally plug in the light bulb over his head. Now, equipped with as much of the truth as anyone knows, the adventure of 1897 should be concluding. Barnabas should be climbing into his coffin for the voyage home.

Of course, a certain Count is about to hear that a certain body part is waiting for him in Collinsport. And if stuntman Alex Stevens is magic, the Count is sorcery. 

This episode hit the airwaves on May 30, 1969.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: May 23

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 245

When Woodard needs a condemning sample, will Barnabas put the squeeze on a reluctant Willie? Dave Woodard: Robert Gerringer. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Barnabas guilts Willie into giving a sample of his blood to Dave Woodard, having stolen and swapped a clean sample some time earlier. He eventually reveals this to Willie, and warns him that he will not always be so protective. Woodard speaks with Burke and Vicki about the unholy goings on in Maggie’s blood.

Joe Caldwell had to be stopped. Dave Woodard had to be killed off. Daytime TV could have survived neither. With all due respect to St. Sam and St. Gordon, this is the best written episode of the series, and any more of it and the show would have collapsed under its own eloquence. Sam Hall and Gordon Russell had a series to write. Caldwell crafted a masterpiece, and that’s an accomplishment so situationally dependent, it would be rare to see one again.

On the basis of plot, alone, it is a tight and intense story of antiheroics and suspense, where you respect Barnabas’ realpolitik skullduggery while simultaneously admiring the incredible curiosity of Woodard. I don’t know what he saw in that microscope except for pure anti-life and the beginning and the end of the world.

Beyond that, the episode works because of its relentless and dark poetry. Most outstanding is the mind game that Barnabas plays and plays and plays with Willie. Ultimately, after an understandable background in the betrayal department, Barnabas is going to test and punish and punish and test Willie until he’s satisfied with the results, and then he’s going to do it some more. Back in the good old days, you’d just send Riggs out back to horsewhip Ben Stokes like banging a jar lid on the counter to loosen it. But, you know, you can’t do that now because “progress.” And because the cops are after you, so you don’t need extra attention. Why? Because you got your house back. And because you may get your fiance back. And because, along with it, some people are going to make their exits a little prematurely. Um, sorry. Yes, it’s a shame. It’s not like he doesn’t jump at the chance for a cure. Between here and there, it would be nice if Willie just, you know, put the seat down every once and awhile and stopped with the betrayal business. He is letting off some much needed steam here, and if he lets Willie dangle in uncertainty, it’s probably a fraction of the paranoia Barnabas suffers as he lies trapped in a wooden shell from the lethal rays of the sun while humans do Diabolos-knows-what in full view of the kids. I’m amazed that Roger is the alkie.

The real star of the episode is Robert Gerringer as Dave Woodard. It’s a human performance, both urban and urbane. The type of grownup we don’t see anymore. This was a generation of writers and actors who cut their teeth on Eugene O’Neill and have no compunction about mixing their poetry with their realism. It’s almost as if he and Barnabas get into a Flowery Introspection Duel, like a Profundity Slam as they talk about blood and the entity responsible for all of it. They share a bizarre duality of loathing and admiration. Woodard marvels at the unnatural progress of the biochemical rite. Barnabas all but confesses to the crimes. Woodard speaks with bizarre admiration that, “It’s the peculiar magnificence of the human spirit that’s required to provide the potential for such corruption.”

Barnabas adds that he must be, “at one and the same time, more than a man and less than a man.”

Woodard asks if he feels sorry for him, and Barnabas answers that he actually loathes him “very, very deeply.”

At the Blue Whale, Vicki’s take on life is at its most apocalyptically realistic. Woodard visits and rounds out the episode with a strangely aroused disgust at the unholy union going on in Maggie’s veins, and how her blood hastily accepts the corruption offered.

The metaphors run rampant, but at the core of it, there is the distinct feeling that Woodard is describing naughty sexy time, and he can’t bring himself to say it’s bad.

Mind games. Sexual metaphors. Probably homosexual metaphors. There is a bounty to unpack, all with a sense of inevitable doom for the entire town and maybe all of existence. Barnabas at this time is like a lingering rot, eating away at the pretenses of decency, and he is doing so openly compared to what the series has offered thus far. He is somewhere between a Ken Russell movie and a Prince album in his relative frankess, and although he would endear himself with a demand for mothering later on, at this point, Jonathan Frid is playing Barnabas Collins as pure sex in a world where only a Hefner would be such a thing. That openness is one world ending and another world beginning. Woodard admires it a little too much, but can’t take part.

Barnabas can. And right now, he knows it. 

This episode hit the airwaves June 2, 1967.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: May 16

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 760

Angelique hoodwinks Laura into thinking her dead by creating a doppelgänger. Thwarted at every turn, Laura takes ill, strategically denied fire by Barnabas. Edward, who doesn't believe in supernatural, takes it upon himself to light the fireplace, giving Laura the last power she needs to attempt to claim the children with a wall of flame. Barnabas persuades Angelique to try one, last gamble. The sorceress casts a spell on Laura that removes her illusion of youth, and the children refuse to go to her. She is immolated in the fire she worships. 

In Diana Millay’s last appearance on the show, Edward Collins comes of age and Angelique makes herself the Selina Kyle of DARK SHADOWS by officially switching sides -- kind of -- in episode 760. Between 759 and 760, she and Barnabas pull off not one, but rather two schemes to thwart Laura. Barnabas is at the top of his game here, and the fact that he finds himself in that position with the help of Angelique demonstrates that, yes, they belong together. Many viewers find his confession of love at the end of the 1840s to be a non sequitur. Episodes like this one provide ample evidence to the contrary. In the prior installment, when Barnabas confronts Laura with the news that he has destroyed her letter and eliminated her henchman, he smiles for the first time since Nicholas Blair went back to Hell. As much as he thinks he loves Josette, she never elicited a smile like that. Not that I saw, anyway. Seeing Barnabas and Angelique across these two episodes (and the one to follow) brings to mind Steed and Peel, forever the Ultimate Avengers around these parts.

I think this was a strategic choice on the part of the writers. This was their second summer with Barnabas, and the first since the commercialization of the show was beginning to saturate retail stores. With such a heavy, youth demographic, it was important to orient the program toward more of a prime time, escapist sensibility. Turning Barnabas into a ruthless, charming cock of the walk hero, finally a step ahead of the villain, was vital to that. Similarly, a vaguely reformed Angelique provided a surrogate heroine for young female viewers. Not that it became a kiddie show, but broadening the appeal and considering all aspects of the viewership didn't hurt. One of the head writers, Sam Hall, had a son who was smack dab in the middle of the younger demographic. If he wanted to consult a focus group, all he had to do was stroll into the living room and ask Matthew to take a break from his 12” GI Joes. In the same era that Batman was duking it out with King Tut and James Bond teamed up with ninjas to prevent rockets from stealing other rockets, there is nothing surprising about the antics of our protagonists in this arc. And Laura makes a suitably outlandish villain — again, aimed at the kids. In the course of three episodes, Barnabas eliminates Dirk Wilkins in a way to ensure maximum terror for Laura, Angelique creates a doppelgänger to hoodwink Laura into a botched assassination, then casts an aging spell on Laura to thwart her attempt to burn the kids alive, while Barnabas rescues Jamison and Nora by casually teleporting through walls and fire. When he's discovered by Edward inside a room that's impossible to access (in the next episode), he's practically buffing his nails on his lapel in a display of self-satisfied nonchalance.

Where was Dos Equis’ ad department when the most interesting man in the world was coming out of the coffin on ABC, five days a week?

Why would the show radically change directions yet again? The production timeline is helpful. In September, just in time for the kids to go back to school, Jonathan Frid takes a well deserved break. Quentin becomes your full-time protagonist, now with invulnerability that would do a Kryptonian proud. In planning the initial Leviathan storyline, it seems clear that Quentin would continue as hero, Barnabas could return to villainy and shore up brand recognition for a possible movie, and Jeb would provide an outsider for Quentin to fight without ruining the ratings by staking Barnabas.

It didn't work out that way for a number of reasons. Barnabas was a perfectly good hero and Quentin could only be threatened with mind control and live entombment so many times. The only real threat for him was existential, and Kafka can wait.

This episode hit the airwaves May 23, 1969.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: May 23

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 245

At the Old House, Woodard takes Willie’s sample as Barnabas plies him with liquor and rhapsodizes about the romance of sacrificing blood. Willie tries to explain what the true Barnabas asks to see the slide and swaps it out with a fake as they speak of the beauty of blood. Barnabas learns that Woodard is seeking every connection possible between Willie and Maggie. Barnabas warns him that the man who broke into his office is of dangerous strength. Woodard says it’s both a beast and a man. Barnabas mournfully describes the villain as more than a man and less than a man, and someone he loathes very deeply. Later, Barnabas reveals to Willie that he switched the slides. At the Blue Whale, Woodard reveals that Willie’s blood is normal, but Maggie’s was terrifying. There was a substance that should have been rejected. Instead, he saw and unholy union in her veins. It was as if Maggie were accepting into her blood something inhuman. The wolf continues to howl in the distance.

Today marks the first solo piece for writer Joe Caldwell. Joe had teamed up on prior scripts, but this was his solo debut. It shows, in the best way. The language is poetic and evocative. Barnabas has moments of self-loathing and ambiguity that are gorgeously, hauntingly phrased, and the same can be said for Woodard’s exploration of science and mystery. Caldwell, also a novelist, professor at Columbia University, and Rome Prize for literature winner, considered vampirism to be a metaphor for compulsive sex. “Stop me or I’ll suck more,” he said was a way of phrasing it. In an interview with Open Road Media, he said that the secret to Barnabas was to write him very straight with very real emotional challenges. In that sense, he’s picking up a cue used to great effect by writers like Shakespeare and Stan Lee when dealing with humanizing characters of tremendous abilities.

On this day in 1967, the painfully unfunny Neil Simon had a hit with the inexplicably popular film of his witless and predictable play, BAREFOOT IN THE PARK. Now considered a shorthand for the nadir of “classy” romantic comedy of the era, it remains terrible because I have still not been cast in a regional production of it.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: MAY 23

By PATRICK McCRAY

May 23, 1967
Taped on this day: Episode 245

Barnabas is allowing Woodard to take a sample of Willie’s blood, but Willie is resistant and fearful. With Burke, Woodard voices his hope that Willie suffers from the same disease as Maggie, and that could lead to the perpetrator. Burke wonders if if could have been a rabid dog or wolf. But who stole a slide? Willie? Woodard doubts it. At the Old House, Woodard takes Willie’s sample as Barnabas plies him with liquor and rhapsodizes about the romance of sacrificing blood. Willie tries to explain what the true stakes are but is sent away. Barnabas asks to see the slide and swaps it out with a fake as they speak of the beauty of blood. Barnabas learns that Woodard is seeking every connection possible between Willie and Maggie. Barnabas warns him that the man who broke into his office is of dangerous strength. Woodard says it’s both a beast and a man. Barnabas mournfully describes the villain as more than a man and less than a man, and someone he loathes very deeply. At the Blue Whale, Vicky and Burke dance, but she grows uneasy as a wolf howls. At the Old House, Barnabas reveals to Willie that he switched the slides. At the Blue Whale, Woodard reveals that Willie’s blood is normal, but Maggie’s was terrifying. There was a substance that should have been rejected. Instead, he saw and unholy union in her veins. It was as if Maggie were accepting into her blood something inhuman. The wolf continues to howl in the distance.

Today marks the first solo piece for writer Joe Caldwell.  Joe had teamed up on prior scripts, but this was his solo debut. It shows, in the best way. The language is poetic and evocative. Barnabas has moments of self-loathing and ambiguity that are gorgeously, hauntingly phrased, and the same can be said for Woodard’s exploration of science and mystery. Caldwell, also a novelist, professor at Columbia University, and Rome Prize for literature winner, considered vampirism to be a metaphor for compulsive sex. “Stop me or I’ll suck more,” he said was a way of phrasing it.  In an interview with Open Road Media, he said that the secret to barnabas was to write him very straight with very real emotional challenges. In that sense, he’s picking up a cue used to great effect by writers like Shakespeare and Stan Lee when dealing with humanizing characters of tremendous abilities.

(Episode 237 airs on this date.)

May 23, 1968
Taped on this day: Episode 503

Willie, haunted by the dream, is awakened by Julia, who knows exactly what he feels like. He recounts the dream to her. Willie is compelled to find Carolyn to tell her the dream, but Julia explains that it will harm Barnabas. Julia hypnotizes him to forget, but instead it taps into a psychic connection he has with Carolyn. He sees her “under the ground,” which is exactly where Adam has taken her… an old root cellar. She’s frightened and confused, and despite himself, Adam uses excessive force to keep here there. Eventually, the hypnodisk works as expected, It erases his memory of the dream. Or so Julia believes. But it doesn’t work. The only clue is that she’s underground. Slowly, Carolyn realizes that he may not mean harm. She teaches him to say, “friend.” In the excitement, he accidentally knocks her unconscious and leaves the cellar, sealing her inside for safety. The police arrive at the Old House, looking for the maniac they once saw near the house. And he wants to know why the maniac can say, “Barnabas.” The officer suddenly sees Adam peering in the window. He chases him out, discharging his gun. Adam isn’t fatally wounded, but with the help of twenty men, the sheriff captured him. After the sheriff leaves, both Willie and Julia are seized by fear.

Hidden in this episode is an interesting twist to the role of hypnosis in the Collinsverse. Through the dream curse, Willie now has a bizarre connection to Carolyn. If the DS writers committed any sin, it was forgetting or ignoring these powers. But then again, they were in the odd position of spicing up events with cool abilities, but not having them be so ubiquitous that stories took ten minutes to solve.

With Dana Elcar gone, we now have another Sheriff Patterson, Vince O’Brien. O’Brien was a successful character actor, appearing in films like ANNIE HALL and QUIZ SHOW. O’Brien would leave DARK SHADOWS in several months to act on Broadway in Burt Bachrach’s musicalization of Billy Wilder’s THE APARTMENT: PROMISES, PROMISES.

Meanwhile, Jonathan Frid’s tour of the USA continued in Flint, Michigan. Photographed with the great clown, Bozo, it’s uncertain if he met with Flint’s other great clown, Michael Moore. I kid, I kid. There were 5,000 people at the airport to greet Mr. Frid and 12,000 at a supermarket in Fort Wayne, Indiana.  Fort Wayne is also the birthplace of test pilot and ANSA legend, Col. George Taylor, lost in the mid-1970’s along with Stewart, Brent, and Landon on the ill-fated Liberty I mission.  It’s unclear if Mr. Frid and Col. Taylor ever met up.  

(Episode 499 airs on this date.)

May 23, 1969
Taped on this day: Episode 765

1897. Quentin prowls as the wolf. Barnabas phases into Beth’s room, asking about her order of the pentagram. Barnabas bites her for both sustenance and control. He asks her who the werewolf is. Beth explains about Magda’s curse on Quentin and all descendants. This includes a baby boy. It all adds up. Barnabas must protect him and his secret. Barnabas intuits that she loves Quentin. He knows how it will end but not when. Meanwhile, Magda stands outside Collinwood, loading a gun with silver bullets. She tells Judith she’s there for Beth, and will wake her. Judith sends her away, but Magda sneaks in, anyway. She overhears Beth and Barnabas, and is angry that he knows all. Her only way to end the curse is to shoot him. Magda also finds that Beth has been bitten. Disgusted, Magda leaves and continues loading the gun. Quentin approaches Collinwood as the wolf. Beth finds her room a shambles. Judith leaves the drawing room to find the werewolf leaping down from the upper railing. Beth enters and frightens it out with her pentagram. Outside, Barnabas hunts and Magda observes him, gun in hand.  On the phone, Beth asks the sheriff to send men to guard the house. Recovering, Judith wants to know how Beth got the wolf to run. What does she know? This was no ordinary animal. Outside, the beast prepares to leap onto Magda, but she shoots him and he collapses.  

A fine episode… and a pivotal one. Barnabas learns that Quentin was a father, suggesting the Chris Jennings connection (by extension, making Joe Haskell a Collins, too). Magda also becomes the NRA as Alex Stevens does a spectacular stunt, leaping down from the second level of the great hall only to be shot by her.

(Episode 760 airs on this date.)