The Dark Shadows Daybook: November 15

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 367

After a seance thrusts Victoria backwards in time, she must contend with a representative of morality who tries to burn her clothing. Abigail Collins: Clarice Blackburn. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Victoria awakens to a suspicious Abigail, who wastes no time in proclaiming her to be possessed by Satan. The governess then visits an unfinished Collinwood, where she meets the dashing Jeremiah. Later, after the family debates taking her on as Sarah’s tutor, Victoria wins the job.

367 is an episode that holds a strange magic. Victoria is back in 1795, and, instead of just fainting and being carted off to her room, actually takes action exploring the world and carving a little place in it. She even challenges Abigail on the insanity of her religious fanaticism. In the space of 22 minutes, Victoria shows more gumption, drive, and nerve than she's probably displayed in the entire series and finally earns legitimate recognition as the heroine of the show. Since Barnabas will spend months as someone tantamount to a hapless victim, if not simply a hapless victim, Victoria becomes the lead we've been hoping to see for the past sixteen months.

The prior episode, which introduces Victoria to 1795, is even more magical, but it is so surreal and intoxicating that it feels like the dream for which Vicki mistakes it. In 367, we awaken from the dream, as does Victoria, and we find that it's still real. Bracingly so. From the start of 367, the show is off to the races. 366 finds Jonathan Frid trying a bit too hard to be the Blue Boy come to life, playing a wide-eyed innocence which is incompatible with his mordant, Canadian wit. An episode or two in, and Frid will be in his element. The only one in 367 who seems as ill-at-ease is Anthony George, and it never seems to take for him. Contrast this with Clarice Blackburn, who finally has a part worthy of her pointy and acerbic talent. She's like the bitter, hypocritical wives in the domestic WC Fields movies, and she will find a way to keep that shtick fresh until Barnabas does her in, months from now. Of course, Joan Bennett is finally playing to her strengths and reads like she walked right off the set of Man in the Iron Mask. In all of this, lends a touch of MGM grandeur to the proceedings. Most of all, Louis Edmonds is completely transformed as Joshua. It's the toughest role in the storyline to play. It requires him to be a stiff, unyielding representative of the double standard while still having a compassionate heart buried deep somewhere. His take on the job interview with Victoria lacks a script as funny as the one that will be perfected for the 1990 series, but the strange mixture of fairness and frugality in it makes for great TV.

Likewise, Lela Swift is composing shots and using lighting with a creativity and sense of art far beyond what we usually expect from her and hurriedly-assembled daytime soap operas. There's a unique thrill for Dark Shadows fans in seeing Collinwood still under construction, and the early morning sun with which it is lit gives an old set a brand-spanking-new aura. Back at the not-yet-Old House, in the scene where the family is considering whether or not to take on Victoria, Swift paints one meaningful screen picture after another. She lines up the characters from most skeptical to least, often balancing the screen picture with them. These are small touches, completely unnecessary for the practical job, but they have a sense of art that is clearly inspired by the unique nature of the episode. An incredibly complicated set of given circumstances is communicated with economy and panache.

1795, as a storyline, is as much about the mixed-blessing necessity of compromises as it is about anything. Barnabas compromises with Angelique. The entire family compromises with Abigail until it’s too late. But we also see Victoria compromise with Joshua and her own sense of honor as she lies her way into survival. A new skill for the usually honorable governess. She’s spent a year and a half as the measure of purity against which we judge the dirty hands of her fellow characters. Now, seeing life in a true survival mode, she’ll finally gain the skills and make the choices to ultimately understand. And figure out how to play the clavichord.

This episode was broadcast Nov. 21, 1967.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: NOVEMBER 21

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1968: Episode 636

Seeing the love of his live disintegrate on a lab table, Adam then raises eyebrows when he casually lets drop his intentions to brutally murder everyone at Collinwood. Victoria: Betsy Durkin. (Repeat, 30 min.)

Barnabas returns from the demise of Nicholas Blair to find that Adam is missing. At Collinwood, Adam overhears Carolyn speaking of past love and becomes consumed with jealousy. He breaks in, and Carolyn -- between blows -- chides him on his fall from tenderness. Adam, poor incel that he is, points out that Carolyn could have rewarded him with love, but chose not to. When Carolyn tries to call the cops, Adam swats her and kidnaps Victoria. Later, after speaking with Carolyn, Julia encounters Adam in the Old House. He has no reason for hostility now that Eve and Nicholas are gone, but he remains angry, and refuses her sedative. She hears a scream from the basement and runs to it. Later, she awakens to find Barnabas explaining that Adam has Victoria in the basement, strapped to a table by Eve’s skeleton, the experiment beginning again. They confront him with a gun, via a secret passage. Adam is lost in the litany of sins others have thrust upon him. Is he using Victoria or taking out his wrath on her? Adam reminds Barnabas of their life force link -- harm for one means harm for the other. Faced with Victoria’s imminent demise, Barnabas aims the pistol at Adam and pulls the trigger.

It was when I was watching this that I realized why Frankenstein stories aren’t scary. For me, the scariest stories involve events happening to me that I’d rather, um, avoid. Those things come about by a supernatural force beyond my control or by a physical force that really has it in for me. Now, look at Frankenstein’s Monster. Benevolent. He doesn’t want to be here. He can’t talk. People keep shoving torches at him and then congratulating themselves as if they’ve discovered kryptonite. He looks a mess. It’s cold and damp. He’s gotten the death shocked out of him. What else could go wrong for this guy? He has to use coercion and blackmail just to get a friend, and then she hates him. And it’s not his fault that the kid with the flowers can’t swim. It just goes on and on. So, what’s there to fear in this guy? Little more than there is in the average angry person. He’s like a pre-white liberal guilt Incredible Hulk. But we’re a post-white liberal guilt audience. So it’s okay to view him with a rational sympathy. So... he’s going to Be Mad at People Who Do Bad Things? Well, don’t Do Bad Things. Dr. Frankenstein’s kind of an hysterical jerk, so I don’t feel very sympathetic toward him. So are the townspeople. But I’ve made a special point not to be an angry villager in my life, so if Frankenstein’s Monster killed me, I’d at least have the comfort of knowing it wasn’t personal.

I think the boon and bane of horroresque stories like Frankenstein and its derivatives is the sympathy we’re supposed to feel for the creature. It’s cool that horror can contain seemingly contradictory moments of emotional repulsion and connection. Ultimately, though, the catharsis in horror either comes from seeing evil defeated or, to Hell with it all, consume us in an endgame, thus literally getting it over with. At that point, sympathizing with a misunderstood monster just gums up the works. It’s like these modern versions of Dracula, none of which are satisfying. If it’s horror, let him be a sumbitch I’m relieved to see staked. If it’s an oozy romance, let me see a genuinely misunderstood lover escape or die trying. But don’t start with him as a baby eating monster and end with him as a beast deserving a harpoon to the heart, but leave me a gooey center of hey-he’s-not-a-bad-guy. At least, don’t tell that story if you want me to be scared.

So, we come to the end of the Adam story. I for one am ready for this thing to be over. I have seen months of a violent manchild suffer from understandable impulse control and a constant flow of misinformation. There aren’t many places this story can go. The Zapping of Nicholas Blair is hard to top. If you’re like me, you find these denouement episodes especially whacky. I see my heroes suffer for months to overcome an enemy, and it never quite ends and some new threat arrives right on time. But please, give the Collinses at least one night off, huh?

At least we have Betsy Durkin. When it comes to the Durkin, it’s a casting choice that’s workin’. Is she Alexandra? No. But like George Lazenby and Timothy Dalton, we were never given a chance to grow solidly inured to her. The mental exercise I play involves imagining Durkin in the role from day one. Too close in look and style to Carolyn? Although that may have been a good thing. Hint hint. Her Victoria has a likable spunkiness to her, as well as a clear mind. And she looks like Julia Louis-Dreyfus.

On this day in 1968, you know, um… stuff happened.  Not a huge news day, though. I’ll be honest. The big news? Adam’s loose! Run for your lives! Etc.