opening voiceover – Page 5 – Dark Shadows Commentary

Episode 113: I’ve got another contemplation

The writers didn’t always put a lot of effort into Dark Shadows’ opening voiceovers, but today’s is exceptionally dire:

My name is Victoria Winters.

Collinwood is still living up to its name as a ghost-ridden house where deaths have gone unsolved. Except that in this case, the murderer is known. Only his whereabouts are unknown. But much like a wounded animal at bay, he has taken refuge in the one place where he thinks he will be safe. The Old House has already been searched thoroughly, so Matthew Morgan feels this is one place the police will not look again.

“Collinwood is still living up to its name”- it is still in the woods and is still occupied by people called Collins? No, “its name as a ghost-ridden house.” So, it is living up to its reputation, not to its name.

Then we get three short sentences beginning with “Except,” “But,” and “Only.” If the narrator has to issue three retractions in fifteen words, it’s difficult to be optimistic about what will happen when people start exchanging dialogue.

“But much like a wounded animal at bay, he has taken refuge in the one place where he thinks he will be safe.” How does that make him more like a wounded animal at bay than like any other creature who is aware of only “one place where he thinks he will be safe”?

“The Old House has already been searched thoroughly”- that sounds OK, until about 30 seconds into the episode, when Matthew lets himself into a secret chamber of the Old House that only he knows about. When you say a house has been searched “thoroughly,” I for one assume you mean that the searchers figured out how many rooms were in it.

This is the final script credited to Francis Swann. That sloppy, confused narration doesn’t sound like his writing. Maybe he was in such a rush to be done with Dark Shadows that he didn’t bother to take a second look at the opening voiceover once he’d pounded it out of his typewriter.

Or maybe he didn’t write it at all. Malcolm Marmorstein’s name will appear in the credits soon, and Marmorstein was eminently capable of writing something that lousy. The actors have an unusually hard time with their lines today, as if the teleplay got to them later than usual. Swann hasn’t written an episode since #106, and that one felt very much like his farewell. So it could be that Marmorstein was supposed to write this one, got stuck, and Swann came in to bail him out.

Further supporting that theory is a change of texture between the first half of the episode and the second half. After the prologue showing the fugitive Matthew hiding in the Old House, we go to the room in the Collinsport Inn occupied by dashing action hero Burke Devlin. Mrs Johnson, housekeeper at Collinwood and spy for Burke, visits him there. She recaps the last couple of episodes for him. The scene is listless and disjointed, in part because of the actors going up- at one point Clarice Blackburn actually prompts Mitch Ryan with Burke’s next line- but also because they have so little to work with when they do remember what they’re supposed to say.

After Mrs Johnson leaves Burke’s room, strange and troubled boy David Collins drops in on him. Mitch Ryan and David Henesy were always fun to watch together, and they manage to get a good deal of interest out of an opening exchange in which David tries to get Burke to admit that Mrs Johnson is his agent inside the Collins home. They then go into Burke’s kitchen, where they talk about their respective grudges against David’s father, high-born ne’er do-well Roger Collins. That’s an emotionally charged topic, and the kitchen is an intimate space. But the conversation is dull. The actors don’t look at each other very much- even when they aren’t reading off the teleprompter, they keep casting their eyes to the floor, as if they’re having trouble staying awake. You can’t blame them if they are sleepy- there’s nothing new in their lines.

The second half of the episode takes us back to Collinwood, and all of a sudden it comes to life. In the foyer, an authoritative-sounding Mrs Johnson scolds David for not hanging his coat up properly. He then puts her on the spot with his ideas about her and Burke. Once he has her good and nervous, he tells her he’s going to the Old House to talk to the ghosts. Mrs Johnson takes the supernatural very seriously, and responds to that idea with some words spoken in a deeply hushed tone. She finally dismisses him with a brusque command to be back for dinner. After the door closes behind him, she looks about for a moment, pensive. Taking Mrs Johnson through these moods, Clarice Blackburn traces a clear line of emotional development that gives the scene a healthy dose of dramatic interest.

We are then treated to a previously unseen location insert in which David is skipping along the path to the Old House. It’s a lovely little scene, dreamlike and eerie:

David skipping on his way to the Old House

David stands before the portrait of Josette Collins and asks for information about Matthew. The portrait isn’t talking, but Matthew himself appears. David tells Matthew that he doesn’t believe he is a murderer, and that the two of them can investigate and prove his innocence. When David tells Matthew he has no choice but to trust him, Matthew asks “Ain’t I?” Returning viewers remember that in the previous two episodes, well-meaning governess Vicki and reclusive matriarch Liz both asked Matthew to trust them. In response, he tried to kill Vicki, and only his fanatical devotion to Liz kept him from doing the same to her. David’s blithe self-assurance stops Matthew this time, and he agrees to stay in the Old House and let David take care of him.

This episode is the first time we see the secret chamber off the parlor of the Old House. Much will happen there. Another first comes when Matthew is deciding whether to trust David or to kill him. He goes to the window of the parlor. We cut to the outside, and see him in the window thinking murderous thoughts. Many, many times next year and the year after we will see another character, one not yet introduced, in that window, vowing to kill someone or other.

The Old House isn’t the only place where today brings firsts. Up to this point the proper way for people to dispose of their coats when entering the great house of Collinwood has been to fold them and place them on a polished table in the foyer. But this time, David responds to Mrs Johnson’s reproof by taking his coat to a space next to the door where he mimes placing it on a hanger. In later years, we will actually see a set dressing there that can pass for a closet, but for now we just have to imagine one exists.

Episode 102: Come down like you do

A deluxe episode today- multiple location inserts, three sets, six credited actors, several extras, music we haven’t heard before, and a special effect. By Dark Shadows standards, that’s a spectacular.

At the end of yesterday’s episode, high-born ne’er-do-well Roger Collins had sneaked up on well-meaning governess Vicki from behind, seized her, covered her mouth with his hands, and ordered her to be silent. Since Vicki is convinced Roger is a murderer and is afraid he will murder her to protect his secrets, that was quite a cliffhanger.

As we open today, Roger makes Vicki promise she won’t scream if he lets her go. He explains that when he decided to forcibly silence her, Maggie, keeper of the Collinsport restaurant and The Nicest Girl in Town, might still have been within earshot of a scream. So he “had to do that.” Otherwise, Maggie, to whom he contemptuously refers as “that little countergirl,” might have intruded on their private conversation. Now, they are all alone in the house.

Vicki does not find Roger’s explanation of his assault on her any more satisfactory than we might expect. She moves about the room keeping her eyes on him, her weight on her toes, and a clear line between her and the exit. Roger asks if she thinks he killed beloved local man Bill Malloy. She answers “I don’t think anything.” He asks her to listen to the whole story. She hears him out, but doesn’t let her guard down for a second.

Roger admits that he did see Bill the night he died. That involves admitting that he tricked Vicki into thinking he left home later than he in fact did, and thereby into giving him a false alibi in a statement to the sheriff. Roger ignores Vicki’s shocked reaction to this, and goes on to explain that Bill was already dead when he saw him. They had arranged to meet atop Lookout Point, but when Roger arrived he saw a body face-down on the beach below. He hurried down, and saw that it was Bill. Vicki asks if he looked like he’d been dead long. Not long, Roger says; he must have fallen off the cliff, been knocked unconscious, and drowned in the two or three feet of water on the beach just moments before.

Roger says he left Bill without calling for help or reporting the accident because he was afraid people would think he murdered him. “After all, I had motive, as they say.” Roger’s motive would be that Bill was trying to prove that he, not dashing action hero Burke Devlin, was responsible for a fatal hit-and-run accident ten years before. “Even you don’t believe me, do you?” he asks Vicki. Vicki says she doesn’t know what to believe, and edges closer to the door.

Returning viewers know that Roger is Dark Shadows’ most clearly defined villain, and have seen him frantically trying to conceal or destroy evidence relating to Bill’s death. Any story the makers of the show want us to consider accepting will have to give him some share of guilt. In this story, he is admitting to leaving the scene of a fatal accident. That is the very crime Bill was trying to prove that he, not Burke, committed ten years before. Since Roger is not a doctor, he is not competent to make a determination as to whether an unresponsive person is dead. For all he knows, Bill might have been saved had he gone for help. If we’ve been paying attention to the “Revenge of Burke Devlin” story, we should be wondering whether the account Roger has given Vicki will itself be enough to send him to prison. If so, we will wonder what Roger has up his sleeve to keep her quiet.

At the long-abandoned Old House, Roger’s son, strange and troubled boy David Collins, is talking to the portrait of his ancestor Josette. He asks Josette why she won’t “come down like you usually do” and talk to him. We don’t hear an answer, but David says “Well, I suppose you know what’s best.”

David tells the portrait that his governess Vicki knows that his father murdered Bill Malloy. He asks Josette if Bill’s ghost is with her and the other ghosts. Apparently she doesn’t answer him. He says that if his father finds out what Vicki knows, he will murder her, and then probably go on to murder him as well. David hears sounds outside the Old House. He puts out his candle and hides behind a chair.

Gruff caretaker Matthew enters. He announces to the dark room that he saw a light through the window, so there’s no point hiding. David comes out from behind the chair. He tells Matthew that he is visiting his friends- the ghost of Josette, of another woman similar to her, and of a younger woman, one about Vicki’s age. Matthew dismisses the topic of ghosts. David tells him that Vicki knows who killed Bill Malloy. As he has done each time Bill’s death has been mentioned, Matthew becomes agitated.

This time, Matthew’s agitation takes the form of a solicitous curiosity. David declares that his father is the murderer. “Did Miss Winters say that?” Matthew asks. No, David allows, but that’s what she meant. He asks Matthew to help him protect Vicki from Roger. Matthew mutters that he wouldn’t want any harm to come to Vicki.

Matthew’s agitation redirects our attention to the opening voiceover. Each episode starts with a brief monologue. For the first 55 weeks, all of these are delivered by Alexandra Moltke Isles in character as Vicki. Usually, they are not very informative. They are more about setting a vaguely anxious mood than about giving us specific facts about what’s going on in the story. Usually, whatever factual claims they do make are true. The only clear exception we’ve seen to that pattern so far came in #15, when Vicki says in the opening voiceover that she has made friends with David, a claim utterly belied by all the events that follow. Today, Vicki says in the opening that Roger is “the one person I have reason to fear.” That may also be false. Early on, reclusive matriarch Liz warned her that Matthew is a “strange and violent man,” and his unease about the death of Bill suggests that she might do well to keep an eye on him.

After David and Matthew have left the house, we see a replay of a bit of video from episode 70. The portrait of Josette glows, and her transparent figure walks down invisible stairs from the mantelpiece to the floor, then turns and looks back at the portrait. When David asked Josette to “come down like you usually do,” evidently he was referring to this manifestation.

Josette’s apparition has a different resonance for viewers today than it would have had for most viewers in 1966. The devices on which we see the show now have bigger screens and far clearer pictures than almost anyone would have had in those days. So it is easy for us to recognize a fact of which almost no members of the original audience would have been aware- the ghost of Josette is played by Kathryn Leigh Scott, the same actress who plays the Maggie whom Roger disdained as “that little countergirl.” Social class is a major concern of the show in the first 42 weeks, and the contrast between high-status and low-status characters is especially vivid today. That a character whose station is so lowly Roger cannot even bring himself to mention her name is played by the same person who plays a personage so lofty that she has a mansion to herself more than a century after her death gives a special punch to that contrast.

Meanwhile, flighty heiress Carolyn is on a date with Burke in the local tavern, The Blue Whale. Carolyn and Burke are well-dressed, as are the several extras at the other tables. They have china plates in front of them, and there is a more upscale type of background music playing than we usually hear at The Blue Whale. The show is at pains to establish that the tavern is a place for a nice date, rather than the waterfront dive it often appears to be. If that isn’t enough to set up an expectation that Burke and Carolyn’s date will be an important one, he says he plans to take her to another, even nicer, place later on for dancing and drinks.

Carolyn tells Burke she thinks that Vicki and Roger are becoming a couple. He is surprised. As she is explaining what has led her to this theory, she mentions that she told Roger something which Burke knows will reveal that Vicki suspects him of killing Bill. Burke excuses himself, saying that he is supposed to telephone his lawyer. He calls Vicki, and tells her he’s sending a taxi to take her away from Roger. She agrees to meet it.

Back at the table, Burke abruptly terminates the date. He explains to Carolyn that he has an urgent business meeting in ten minutes. She takes the news with uncharacteristically good humor.

Vicki slips out the back door of the house. The episode closes with a new location insert, a shot of her outdoors in the dark.

This may sound like a lot of talk, much of it recapping, but when you watch it the whole thing feels like it’s packed with high-stakes action. The actors are all in good form today, and, as usual, Francis Swann’s script gives them the opportunity to show what they can do. It is strong from beginning to end, well worth the extra expenditures they devoted to it.

Episode 63: The world around it

Each episode of Dark Shadows begins with a voiceover. In this phase of the show, the voiceovers are all narrated by Alexandra Moltke Isles in character as Victoria Winters, well-meaning governess, and are brief passages of almost purely decorative prose, meant only to set a mood and to vanish from the audience’s memory as soon as the action starts. Art Wallace and Francis Swann, the writers credited for the first 97 episodes, were old pros who had been turning out scripts for decades, and were good at staying out of their own way. That’s why I haven’t yet said anything about any of the opening voiceovers- when Wallace or Swann set out to write something forgettable, they succeeded. By the time I started writing, I had no recollection of them whatever.

Today’s opening voiceover is unusually substantive, so much so that it threatens to leave a trace in the audience’s mind:

My name is Victoria Winters. Once again it is quiet in Collinwood. There is no sound but the ticking of the great clock in the entrance hall. And the lonely footsteps of a woman who hasn’t left its grounds in eighteen years. A woman whose life is limited to musty corridors and the endless beat of a grandfather clock. A beat that seems to ignore the vitality of the world around it.

Vicki names herself, names the estate where she lives, talks about how quiet it is, mentions the clock, tells the audience that the lady of the house is a recluse who hasn’t left home in eighteen years, complains about the air quality in the house, brings the clock up again, and assures us that interesting things are happening everywhere except here. It leaves us wondering why Vicki is so hung up on the clock, why she doesn’t run the vacuum cleaner herself, and why, if the entire world surrounding Collinwood is chock full of vitality, they don’t turn the camera in some other direction.

That’s the sort of thing we’re going to get from Wallace and Swann’s immediate successors, Ron Sproat and Malcolm Marmorstein. In writing their opening voiceovers, Sproat and Marmorstein fell between two stools. They didn’t write brief, deliberately forgettable passages as Wallace and Swann had done; nor did they integrate the opening voiceovers into the action of the show, as would happen in later years when the story is moving very fast and the episodes start with detailed recaps of events so far. Instead, Sproat and Marmorstein saw the voiceovers as vehicles for long passages of flowery, over-developed imagery. Those are certainly no more effective at setting a mood than were Wallace and Swann’s brief remarks, but they do both try the patience of the audience and linger as distractions. That’s one of the things that prejudices viewers against the character of Vicki- since so many episodes from the Sproat/ Marmorstein era start with Vicki rambling on about the weather or making vague remarks about “one small boy” or whatever, the first impression she leaves on viewers who start watching with episodes from that period is that of a prattling fool.

While Wallace and Swann are the only writers whose names have appeared in the credits thus far, it is very possible that others not credited contributed additional bits. I may be wrong, but my nose catches a whiff of Marmorstein in these six strange, distracting sentences. The description of the clock while we’re looking at it, the specified number of years since reclusive matriarch Liz has left the estate, the evocation of the “musty corridors,” the yearning glance at the eventful world outside, are all typical of Marmorstein’s attempts to turn the voiceovers into freestanding dramatic monologues, but without identifiable characters or plot development.

Today’s episode doesn’t shed much light on Vicki’s relationship to the clock or on the standards of cleanliness in the great house of Collinwood. Instead, it’s a kaleidoscope episode, in which each change of scene varies the combination of characters who interact on each set. The action plays out on two sets this time, the foyer/ drawing room representing the downstairs of the great house, and the Blue Whale tavern, representing the low and bustling life of the village. Because the sets typify the “musty corridors” inside the house and the “vitality of the world around it,” the episode is also a diptych of sorts- not Art Wallace’s usual diptych contrasting two pairs of people, but a diptych contrasting two places and the attitudes those places inspire in the people who spend time in them.

The five pieces tumbling about in today’s kaleidoscope are reclusive matriarch Liz, tightly-wound handyman Matthew, flighty heiress Carolyn, hardworking young fisherman Joe, and Maggie, the nicest girl in town. The regular bartender at the Blue Whale gets a fair bit of screen time as well. In the first 63 episodes, he’s answered to names including “Joe,” Andy,” “Mike,” and “Punchy.” Today, Joe the fisherman calls the bartender “Punchy,” a name he called him most recently in episode 56, the same episode where drunken artist Sam calls him “Mike.” Maybe we’re supposed to think that the young men know the bartender as “Punchy,” the older men as “Mike.” Eventually the show settles on the name “Bob” for him, perhaps because the performer’s name was Bob O’Connell. In one episode (#319,) Sam calls him “Ba-ba-roony,” giving rise to the idea that his name is Bob Rooney.

Liz appears only at Collinwood, of course; Joe and the bartender appear only in the bar. The others migrate back and forth between the two sets. We first see Carolyn with Joe in the bar, talking about what a flop their date has been and how pointless their whole relationship is. Maggie interrupts this thrilling conversation, looking for her father, Sam the drunken artist. After puzzling Carolyn and Joe with a number of cryptic remarks, Maggie gives up looking for her father and goes to Collinwood to look for high-born ne’er-do-well Roger. Roger isn’t home, so she winds up talking to Liz. This is the 63rd episode, and it’s the first time we’ve seen these two major characters together.

We first see Matthew in Collinwood, telling Liz how much he wants to help her. He then goes to the bar, where Carolyn and Joe see him. Matthew is looking for dashing action hero Burke Devlin, whom he hates. He implies to Carolyn and Joe that Burke is to blame for the death of beloved local man Bill Malloy. Joe doesn’t like Burke any more than Matthew does. The instant he hears Matthew’s idea, he is all in on it. Carolyn resists the suggestion.

Carolyn goes home to Collinwood. Maggie has explained to Liz that Burke has been saying terrible things about her father, that she can’t find her father to ask him about Burke’s allegations, and that Roger might know something about them. Liz urges Maggie to believe in her father, and to regard Burke as a dangerous, unscrupulous man capable of many dark deeds. Hearing the last part of this, Carolyn asks her mother if she believes that Burke is capable of murder. Yes, Liz says, she does believe that he is capable of that.