The Dark Shadows Daybook: NOVEMBER 28

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 908

Will a stolen radio help Paul recruit Maggie in his campaign against the Leviathans, or will Liz outwit him yet again? Paul: Dennis Patrick. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Paul is disturbed that Alexander is with David, but no one will listen to his warnings. Alexander subtly and unsubtly exerts control and coercion across the house, and Maggie finally believes Paul when she overhears the tot threaten David for a radio. It’s a gift from Roger, returned from out of town and incensed that Paul is back.

Paul Stoddard is easily the most deluded character on the show, but lovably so. He can no more escape the Leviathans than he can just kinda fly casual and drop back in at Collinwood to pick up like it’s the 1940’s. But he tries. In a show that fixates on the past, Paul Stoddard is no more guilty than many of the others. He’s one not-quite-murdered spouse above Elizabeth on that scale. Jason held her with threats. Paul doesn’t even need to do that. Perhaps of all of the DS repertory, I may feel sorriest for him. At a certain point, being financially dependent on Liz isn’t just emasculating, it’s dehumanizing. Yes, yes, I know, this is the position that almost all women were in back then, and we’re not talking Ward Cleaver money. We’re talking Jamison’s daughter money. The class differences must have been even more oppressive than the lack of autonomy. Collinwood’s been making people prisoners since Barnabas christened the tower room, and that Paul felt so desperate to hold his own that he made clearly unsavory bargains. He shows up at home despite the murder attempt he dodged last time because it’s the safest place he knows. If the safest place in the world is a bedroom across the hall from the woman who tried to bash your brains out the last time you saw her, life has not delivered a bouquet of Cuban cigars and vintage Playboys.

Before he gets to die, he becomes a WC Fields character -- mit shrewish wife, understanding daughter, and a marble-mouthed Baby Leroy of a bouncing baby Baal of a nemesis. You know, if that character were played by William Shatner’s frantic airline passenger in “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet.” It’s actually an eerie analogy. “I’m telling you, there’s a demonic kid with a thick, Bronx accent and he’s on the east wing of the mansion! You’ve gotta believe me!”

Who’s the stewardess? Maggie. Does she believe him? No. Until she does. All because the little satanic Sonny Jim wants a radio so he can rock out to some Roger Miller. And this, I can understand. But if there’s one thing he doesn’t count on, it’s the inconvenience of living on a set to a soap opera, loaded with crannies and landings and landed crannies designed for convenient eavesdropping. Let’s see if he gets his precious hamburger, now. Go back to yer stock cars, kid. Uncle Paul and your governess need a to take a meeting. He remembers Maggie from the New York Playboy Club, and he’s going to learn to do that Bunny Dip if it kills him. He’s friends with sailors like Jason McGuire, and survival is a dish best served with a Highball. At any point, Paul -- already established as a master of disguise -- may have to don the ears and tail to pass for one of the Club’s discipled, efficient, and charming servers. How many times did he evade Nicholas Blair that way? You tell me.

All seriousness aside, just like the arrival of Barnabas allowed Roger to lighten up and stop villaining around the joint, this latest turn for evil by Barnabas creates the opportunity for Roger to become the hero once again. Kind of. Paul’s flaky irresponsibility and gnawing regret make Roger seem like he deserves that “#1 Dad” mug that Liz pretended David picked out. So what if his secretary keeps thumbtacks in it? It’s not like David’s ever going to get a job at the cannery and catch him. Nevertheless, Roger is really earning it. He’s grown to love David, and that’s easier to do when your son stops trying to kill you by sabotaging your car. He brings him radios. Seems happy to see him. Roger gets mad, kind of on Liz’s behalf, that she’s letting her working class ex-husband smoke his Gauloises and wear his slippers without even the decency to sprinkle some Gold Bond in there. Of course, she’s a member of a cult, too, But even excluding those things, Roger is on a hero’s journey that would have even Joseph Campbell taking notes.

It’s heartening that Roger takes to being a dad far more easily than we ever thought. It’s equally heartbreaking that Paul tries to do the same thing, far, far too late.

This episode was broadcast Dec. 18, 1967.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: NOVEMBER 28

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 908

Alex insinuates himself at Collinwood, giving new orders to Liz and keeping everyone well on task. Meanwhile, new guest, Paul Stoddard, knows he’s up to no good, and tries to recruit Maggie to help him. Roger arrives, shocked that Paul is being allowed to stay. Paul, thinking he’s chasing Alex out of his bedroom, instead encounters the breathing sound of a fully revealed Leviathan.

It’s impossible to watch this episode and not think of THE OMEN. Somewhere, Harvey Bernhard was taking notes. He just had to be. At the center is Alex, the new incarnation of the Jebspawn, played here by eight year-old, David Jay. Jay had a moderately active career as a child actor, but went on to other things as an adult. Because I remembered his performance in a troubling light, he was the chief reason I was dreading the episode. Well, either memory failed me or my tastes have changed. (And it’s a little too tempting to pick on child actors, as poor Jake Lloyd can attest.) Is his Carnegie Deli cheesecake-thick regional accent arguably unbecoming for the anti-Christ? Maybe, but when Marie Wallace is your foster mom, you’re going to pick up an accent. In retrospect, while it can be seen as absurd, it also gives him a cold-hearted toughness that a Tennessee twang couldn’t match. Maybe we were better off. Jay pulls off his main challenge, and that’s shifting from little boy to a strange, intimidating man in the space of a breath. When he gets down to the business of castigating Liz and demanding radios and portrait albums, he projects a confidence that rises above his years. Goofy-looking? Yes. Icy and disturbing? Yes. Especially in that way kids can be. I have always found young children to be disquieting and unpredictable. This episode captures the spirit of why. As a counterbalance, we see David and Roger at their warmest, and the presentation of that evolved relationship has made the past three years worthwhile and gives the heroes one more thing to fuel their fight. Another champ in this one is Kathryn Leigh Scott, who has to believe Paul even as he’s in a paranoid frenzy. She plays kindness and honest doubt with a wonderfully subtle mix that should not go unpraised.

On this day in 1969, Time Magazine unrolled an issue with an abstract statue of Raquel Welch to promote MYRA BRECKINRIDGE. I, however, have no issue with a statue of Raquel Welch.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: NOVEMBER 28

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 115

David continues to bring food and supplies to Matthew, hiding in the Old House and speaking of something that will allow him to go undiscovered. Vicki plans a trip to Bangor, but is sidetracked by fetching David from the Old House. While there, she loses her wallet. David and Liz speak of loyalty, and it’s clear to viewers that his loyalty is to the nefarious Matthew over his father. While searching for her wallet, Vicki finds herself recaptured by Matthew.

Let’s have a hand for Malcolm Marmorstein and the completion of his first script for DARK SHADOWS. Author of 82 DARK SHADOWS episodes, Marmorstein arguably has the most illustrious writing career outside of DARK SHADOWS, including a screenplay credit for Disney.

DARK SHADOWS really had a thing about people being held prisoner. Liz is a self-imposed prisoner for eighteen years. Vicki is prisoner at least four times -- twice in 1966, and twice in 1795… the second time after her return there. Maggie is a prisoner in both main time and parallel time. Carolyn is a prisoner to Adam. I think the Old House hanging chains saw more action than Mr. Wells’ Inn. I’ve no doubt I’m forgetting multiple someones. In “Fall Out,” I’m amazed that Patrick McGoohan didn’t rip off that ape mask to reveal Dan Curtis as Number One. And maybe he did…

Thayer David is so marvelously convincing as Matthew Morgan that I am glad they allowed him to play other roles. A malevolent Lenny, his true menace comes from his capacity to encourage underestimation. In that sense, he’s a perfect opponent for Vicki. He challenges her innocence and always leaves open a strange sense of vulnerability… you never know. He might just turnaround. But probably not.

In the midst of the contemporaneous hubbub in several of our other parallel years -- 1970, I’m looking at you -- even I will admit that it’s nice to see the characters slow and converse revealingly about feelings, aspirations, and values. It’s a good day for Joan Bennett. She engages with both Alexandra Moltke and David Henesy, discussing self-discovery with one and the intricacies of loyalty with the other, and does so with honesty, but never a leaden hand. There’s a purity to those scenes that I really love because I believe them.

And that brings me to last week. I want to mention last Wednesday’s episode in 1970. It was 1160, and I am compelled to mention it since illness and the holidays prevented it on schedule. Do yourself a favor. Go back and watch it. Furious that Daniel is changing the will again, Gabriel shows his hand by rising from his wheelchair and killing his father. He has feigned being immobile for most of his life. As Daniel is in his death throes, his embittered son explains that it was the only way that he could ensure his father’s love and attention. Christopher Pennock knocks it so far out of the park that the ball could take out the Hollywood sign. No exaggeration. It is a monologue that is equally vivid, lurid, vulnerable, and sincere. I’m not sure any other actor on the show enjoyed such a dynamic and challenging slab of writing in a single episode… not since Barnabas recalled Josette on the night of the blackout. I got to interview Mr. Pennock several years ago, and I can’t help but allow two things he said to color my reading of his performance in the scene. I’m not saying that there is a 1:1 relationship with anything, however, I can see that certain personal elements could have provided fuel for inspiration. A distant father is involved. Feeling a sense of collegial competition with David Selby, for whom success and opportunity came seemingly as naturally as his height, likability, and integrity. Now, was Mr. Pennock joking? He always is a bit, but he’s always seems deadly sincere within it. Again, I’m not drawing direct parallels. At the most, I’m just noting… serendipity.

“Who’s the best actor?” is a strange question once a certain mastery is reached, and Selby and Pennock were equally honed performers. What does ‘best’ even mean? It’s not like an athlete, for whom objective, quantifiable abilities have objective, quantifiable measures. It’s all subjective. Only… maybe… with the double-blind of seeing both performers play the same roles against the same co-stars… only then, do I get an idea of ‘best.’ Even then, it’s an ooky question. So, Selby or Pennock? I can only cite the individual strengths I see. Ones that don’t seem to come as easily to the other. Selby characters excel at conveying a very sincere, gentle sense of humor. The Pennock wit is sharper and more political. One has a more open heart, one has a more open set of eyes. Pennock’s real ace is in his vulnerability. Not only are his characters open to visible, in-the-moment change, but we can always see how unexpected that is. Showing change can be tough enough for a performer, but to have a character aware enough of change’s ironies to comment on them? That requires a very unique understanding of life and its intricacies, often hard won.

Back to November 28, 1966. It was the birthday of John Hallow (b. 1924), a Broadway actor and assistant stage manager who stepped in for the role of the train station manager encountered by Quentin and Amanda as they attempt to escape to Manhattan in episode 850. He had a fascinating career, working on classics such as DON’T DRINK THE WATER, BEN FRANKLIN IN PARIS (with an added song by Jerry Herman that happens to be one of his best), DAD POOR DAD, and Gore Vidal’s all-too-timely A VISIT TO A SMALL PLANET. Elsewhere in 1966, America was in the throes of Brian Wilson’s “Good Vibrations.” I find it ironic. This period of the show looks and feels so archaic that it amazes me they were going home listening to “Good Vibrations” -- a song that still feels like it’s from the future -- on their car radios. If you don’t know anything about the song beyond the basic sound of it, do yourself a favor and look it up. It’s one of music’s great accomplishments, created by a genius who excels at mining joy from pain. The song was the most expensive pop piece ever produced at that time, and it’s unthinkable that something so inventive would be tried by someone so widely- beloved, today. It was created during the assembly of PET SOUNDS, and in many ways, encapsulates so much of that landmark album.

1966, a helluva year to be alive, was rounding out with this?

Helluva year.