Dave Woodard, MD, has learned that Barnabas Collins is a vampire and mad scientist Julia Hoffman is his co-conspirator. We see Barnabas at home, pressuring Julia into helping him murder Woodard before he can go to the authorities. After a great show of reluctance, Julia prepares a hypodermic of some potion or other that will induce cardiac arrest. When Barnabas insists she administer the lethal injection herself, Julia resumes her attempt to find a way out. Barnabas finally allows her to go to Woodard and tell him that his only options are to cooperate with them and make a great contribution to medical science, or to go out into the night and suffer an unimaginably horrible death when Barnabas catches him.
Julia does go to Woodard’s office, and does deliver this message. Woodard replies that he doesn’t have to go anywhere to tell the sheriff about Barnabas and Julia. He picks up his telephone and starts dialing. High-pitched sounds play, and Woodard sees the shadow of a bat at his window. Yesterday we heard that Julia considered Woodard the most brilliant student in their medical school class, and we can see why- even though this was decades before Covid-19 or Nipah or other bat-borne viruses were in the news, he is transfixed by the outline of the squeaky little guy.
Perhaps Woodard is less prescient about bats as vectors for disease than he is mindful of the experiences of his young friend, strange and troubled boy David Collins. In #330, Barnabas sent a large bat to frighten David in his bedroom. Today, Barnabas materializes inside Woodard’s office after the bat has done its thing outside. This is the first indication we have had that Barnabas has the power to transport himself through walls.
Unfortunately, the National Association of Broadcast Engineers and Technicians were on strike during principal photography for this episode. No doubt the process shot of Barnabas’ materialization was added after they came back to work, but they could do only so much with the footage that the network executives and other amateurs had left them. The Barnabas who appears in Woodard’s office today is about three feet tall and is missing a chunk of his head.
Mini-Bar may be the funniest consequence of this attempt at strikebreaking, but there is another that isn’t amusing at all. Woodard is played by some stooge who took over the part when Robert Gerringer, who has been struggling valiantly since May to find something interesting to highlight in a character who usually doesn’t know anything and isn’t allowed to advance the plot, honored the NABET picket line. The scab annoys the audience every time he opens his mouth today, breathing directly onto his microphone, getting tangled up in trivial lines, and veering between a barking tone and a whine as high-pitched as the sounds the bat makes.
The result of his incompetence is that a conflict the audience is supposed to be experiencing as suspense does not come off. We’re supposed to be torn as Julia is torn, wanting Woodard’s threat to the continuation of the story to be removed, but feeling horror at the thought that he will be killed. Gerringer could have made us feel those incompatible desires, but this alleged actor makes us want nothing but that he be removed from our television screens as soon as possible and by any means necessary. So we find ourselves cheerfully rooting for the vampire and the mad scientist to get on with murder.
Dark Shadows Commentary 