Tag: soapcraft

Episode 395: Stay on as master of the Old House

It is 1795. In the foyer of the great house of Collinwood, young gentleman Barnabas Collins stands on the staircase, his father Joshua stands on the floor. Joshua forbids Barnabas to marry lady’s maid Angelique on pain of disinheritance; when Barnabas declares he will marry her anyway, Joshua announces that they are no longer father and son.

Barnabas on the stairs, Joshua standing on the floor. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.

In 1967, Barnabas will return to Collinwood as a vampire. In that year, in episode #214, he will take well-meaning governess Vicki on a guided tour of the foyer of the old manor house, indicate the staircase there, and say that “On these stairs, a father and son hurled words at each other, words that would lead to the death of the son.” He will then begin laughing maniacally and repeat the words “The death!,” seeing the desperate irony of referring to his own death in the past tense.

By today’s episode, the Collinses have moved out of the old manor house without any shocking scenes between Barnabas and Joshua playing out on the stairs there. That isn’t so surprising- that one remark eight months ago was the only reference to the stairs as the site of a fateful quarrel between Barnabas and Joshua, and the writer responsible for that day’s script, Malcolm Marmorstein, has been gone and forgotten since August. Neither today’s screenwriter, Gordon Russell, nor his colleague, Sam Hall, was with the show when Barnabas gave that speech to Vicki, and the third member of the writing staff, Ron Sproat, has been in the background for most of the 1795 segment so far.

But they do go out of their way to put Barnabas on the stairs of the new house for his showdown with Joshua today. It seems likely that they are hoping that at least some viewers will remember Barnabas’ remark in #214 and look for a significance in the connection. They did that sort of thing all the time in the early months of the show. For example, when they were developing a murder mystery about the death of beloved local man Bill Malloy in the last four months of 1966, they would show us a clock face in one episode, then weeks later have a character lie about the time established by that clock. Sproat more or less put a stop to those kinds of wild over-estimations of the audience’s attention span when he joined the writing staff near the end of 1966, but ever since the vampire story began in April of 1967 they had acquired obsessive fans who sent letters and gathered outside the studio. So they do have a reason to try to close the loop on a very long and very slender thread. What might the significance be of this particular nod to Barnabas’ first days on the show?

The 1795 segment began when the ghost of Barnabas’ little sister Sarah took possession of Vicki at a séance in #365, announced she wanted to “tell the story from the beginning,” and hurled Vicki back to her own time as a living being. But it is not simply a flashback explaining what made Barnabas a vampire. Vicki has completely failed to adapt to her new environment, and as a result has made significant changes to the timeline. She is now in hiding, suspected of witchcraft because of her endless stream of bizarre words and actions.

In fact, there is a witch at Collinwood. It is Angelique. Presumably, the first time these events took place Angelique pinned responsibility for her crimes on Sarah’s proper governess, Phyllis Wick. We caught a glimpse of Phyllis in #365; we could tell, not only that she was indigenous to the eighteenth century, but that she was quite cautious about anything that might suggest the paranormal. It would have taken Angelique some time and effort to set Phyllis up as a patsy, while Vicki volunteered for the role without any action at all on Angelique’s part. So maybe Vicki has speeded everything up. Maybe the family was still in the Old House when Joshua disowned Barnabas in the original sequence of events, but Vicki’s blunderings have accelerated matters so that they moved out before the conflict between them came to a head.

There is another puzzle about the writers’ intentions in this episode. It is established that without his inheritance or his position in the family business, Barnabas will be in a most parlous state. In separate scenes, both Barnabas and Joshua talk about the impossibility of Barnabas finding a job in Collinsport. Barnabas tells Angelique they will have to go at least as far as Boston before they can find anyone who will risk Joshua’s displeasure by hiring him. Later, Joshua tells Naomi that Barnabas won’t even be able to reach Boston- he doesn’t have enough money and won’t be able to get enough credit to stay in an inn, and he has no friends who will so much as put him up for a night if they know he doesn’t have an inheritance coming.

Barnabas’ mother, Naomi, has a solution to his financial problems. She gives him the Old House. The Old House is supposed to be a huge mansion, which it takes a very substantial income to maintain. How a man who can’t even afford a room for the night is going to meet those expenses is not made clear.

The frustrating thing about this is that they dwell at such length about the hard realities of dollars and cents immediately before, and then again after, Naomi makes her gift. By the laws of Soap Opera Land, a character who possesses a symbol of wealth such as a mansion does not need an income. We can accept that convention, and do in the 1967 segment, when a moneyless Barnabas occupies the Old House and can pay for all sorts of expensive things. But today they keep rubbing our faces in the implausibility of it.

My wife, Mrs Acilius, suggested they could have presented both themes if they’d dealt with the realistic financial problems in one episode and in a subsequent episode had gone back to the fantasy world. Maybe Joshua disinherits Barnabas on a Friday, he worries about getting a job on Monday, Tuesday we watch someone try to introduce Vicki to the concept of “lying,” Wednesday we see caddish naval officer Nathan woo feather-headed heiress Millicent, Thursday much-put-upon servant Ben Stokes tries to escape from the spell with which Angelique controls him, and then comes another Friday, when Naomi waves her magic wand and gives Barnabas the house. But as it stands, Barnabas talks to Angelique about how they have to go hundreds of miles to eke out a bare subsistence, Joshua talks to Naomi about Barnabas’ impending poverty, and then all of a sudden they remember that none of that matters, sorry sorry we shouldn’t have bothered you with it.

There were times in 1966 and 1967 when Dark Shadows only had one viable storyline, and no readily apparent means of starting others. But now they have several stories in progress, and an abundance of lively characters with whom they can make as many more as they like. There is no need for events in any one plot-line to move so quickly that incompatible themes crash into each other with such an unfortunate result.

Naomi’s gift to Barnabas was legally impossible in 1795. Until 1821, Maine was part of Massachusetts, and married women could not own property in Massachusetts until 1822. Maine did not pass its own Married Women’s Property Act until 1844. The show never brings this up, so it isn’t the same kind of problem as Barnabas’ lack of income.

Still, it does represent a missed opportunity. If Naomi’s family of origin had owned the house, they might have placed it in a trust over which she would have enough influence to deliver it to her son against her husband’s wishes. In fact, the show never makes the slightest allusion to where Naomi came from. If they’d given her relatives of her own, she would have had potential allies in a clash with Joshua and potential goals to pursue independently of him. As it stands, they have put her firmly in his shadow, so that the category of possible stories about Naomi is a subset of stories about Joshua. That’s a sad situation for a character who is capable of the dynamism she shows today, and a criminal waste of the talents of an actress as accomplished as Joan Bennett.

Episode 350: Own flesh and blood

Things have been happening fast on Dark Shadows for the last several days, and writer Ron Sproat was always aware of the need to let new viewers catch up. This is the first chance Sproat has had to write a Friday episode in some time, and since some people would watch daytime soaps only on Fridays, he goes in today for some extra heavy recapping about doings at the estate of Collinwood.

As a result, the first half of the episode is confusing to viewers who have been watching regularly. In recent days, the ghost of ten year old Sarah Collins gave a toy soldier to strange and troubled boy David to keep with him as a talisman against evil; David had a premonition that his cousin, heiress Carolyn, was in danger, and passed the toy soldier on to her; Carolyn saw Sarah, and gave the toy soldier back to David; and as we begin today, David brings the toy soldier back to Carolyn. David catches a glimpse of an extremely old man peering in through the window of the drawing room; he is gone by the time Carolyn turns to look. They talk about ghosts and visions, reenacting in one scene Carolyn’s whole progression from total rejection of David’s claims about the supernatural to total openness to them, and David’s from a desperate need to be believed to an even more desperate fear that Carolyn will be killed unless he can convince her he was lying about everything.

Carolyn tells her mother Liz that she doesn’t think David is lying, and decides to confront Liz’ aversion to the topic of ghosts and tell her that she has seen Sarah. Liz says she thinks David is mentally disturbed and must be sent away to an institution; eavesdropping, David reacts with horror. He meets Carolyn in the foyer afterward. He asks her if she thinks he is crazy. When she says she doesn’t, he says that maybe he is. He pleads with her to reject his stories as either delusions or lies.

The old man David saw looking at Carolyn is their distant cousin Barnabas, who is, unknown to them and the other residents of the great house on the estate, a vampire. Mad scientist Julia Hoffman has been trying to cure Barnabas of vampirism, but she inadvertently restarted the aging process which his condition had arrested. No longer does he look like a man in his forties- now he appears to be about ninety. He fears that if he does not start sucking people’s blood again tonight, he will soon turn into the pile of dust he would have been long ago were it not for his curse.

In Barnabas’ home at the Old House on the estate, we see him talking with Julia. His peeping at Carolyn might suggest that he has her in mind as his victim, but he does not mention her. Instead, he says he will go out into the town of Collinsport and find a stranger. Julia is disappointed that Barnabas is not planning to bite well-meaning governess Vicki, with whom she had hoped never to have another conversation. So she offers herself as a victim instead.

This offer stuns Barnabas so deeply that, for the first time, he addresses Julia by her first name. She smiles when he does this. He seems sincerely dismayed by the thought of enslaving Julia. When he tells her that if he bites her, she will have no will of her own, she smiles even more brightly. Evidently Julia believes that would be a price well worth paying if it kept Vicki from talking to her.

Julia contemplates enslavement. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.

Barnabas declines the offer, saying that he might need to call on Julia for medical treatment at some point in the future and that as a blood thrall she wouldn’t be able to function as a doctor. Julia is hurt by Barnabas’ refusal, and asks him if the only reason he won’t enslave her is that he wants to use her professional services, and he assures her that it is.

Back in the great house, Carolyn stands in the foyer under the gaze of Barnabas’ portrait. She looks at the toy soldier and wonders about David. She decides to go to Barnabas’ house and look for evidence of the things David had claimed to see there. Oddly, she sets the toy soldier on the table and leaves without it.

Carolyn lets herself into Barnabas’ house, goes to his basement, and finds his coffin. Julia sees her there and tells her to leave immediately, “before it’s too late.” We hear Barnabas’ voice announcing “It is already too late.” Carolyn is baffled by Barnabas’ aged appearance. He moves in, bares his fangs, and bites her.

Thirsty old man. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.

Barnabas’ old man makeup is phenomenally good, as all the Dark Shadows blogs mention. The show was very lucky to land Dick Smith, one of the pre-eminent makeup artists of all time, to do it. But I would add that Jonathan Frid’s acting takes Smith’s appliances and turns them to the best possible advantage. It is utterly absorbing to watch him as a man suddenly thrust into extreme old age, trying to figure out how to move his newly enfeebled limbs. In Frid and Smith, two artists at the top of their form collaborated to create a remarkable turn.

Episode 112: A person has to trust somebody in this world

Yesterday, gruff caretaker Matthew held well-meaning governess Vicki prisoner in his cottage on the great estate of Collinwood. Having inadvertently confessed to Vicki that he killed beloved local man Bill Malloy, Matthew could see no alternative but to kill Vicki. Vicki kept trying to talk him into reassessing his options, but without success. At the end, Matthew had announced his intention to break Vicki’s neck and was choking her. Only when reclusive matriarch Liz entered the room did Matthew stop.

Today, we hear Liz take much the same approach to talking Matthew down that Vicki had tried yesterday. Matthew’s fanatical devotion to Liz keeps him from harming either woman, but his fear of prison drives him to block the exit when they try to leave. As Liz tries to reason with Matthew, we see Vicki’s terrified face between them. Not only does her expression add emotional depth to the scene, but Alexandra Moltke Isles’ resemblance to Joan Bennett drives home the similarity between what Liz is trying now and what Vicki tried in yesterday’s episode. No wonder Vicki is afraid Matthew will attack Liz next.

Eventually Matthew does raise his hands to Liz. She stands her ground. He retreats without touching her. When he menaces her, the music swells; when he backs off, it stops. Then we see Liz in closeup for a couple of seconds before the commercial. That silence makes for one of the most effective act breaks in the whole series.

Back at the great house, Liz and Vicki bring the sheriff and instantly forgettable young lawyer Frank up to date. It’s a lot of recapping, but the actors make it interesting.* Mrs Isles does a particularly good job of seeming bewildered and traumatized. Her lines are repetitive- a lot of “He tried to kill me”- but she delivers them in just the right tone of dreamlike detachment.

Liz’ brother, high-born ne’er-do-well Roger, comes home and is sarcastic to Vicki. Roger had been arrested because he was caught red-handed with some evidence he had hidden from the sheriff, and while in custody had confessed to a series of felonies. This led to him being detained for almost an entire day, an inconvenience for which he blames Vicki. Later, Roger will see Liz and the sheriff in Matthew’s cottage. He insults the sheriff, who is unimpressed. After the sheriff leaves, he demands Liz fire Vicki. Liz tells him that Vicki did nothing wrong and orders him to drop the subject.

I’m not going to bother explaining why Roger thinks Vicki is at fault for his brush with the law. Doing so would require a retelling of the saga of the fountain pen, and no one wants that. Besides, the only person who takes Roger at all seriously today is Vicki, and her attempts to apologize to him come off as a symptom of the extreme confusion she is in after her ordeal. There’s little reason to expect any plot developments to come of Roger’s hostility to Vicki, but Louis Edmonds is always hilarious to watch when he’s playing a character in a snippy mood.

The sheriff has told everyone that Matthew’s old station wagon was seen barreling down the highway toward his brother’s hometown, Coldwater, Maine.** That brings a great relief to Vicki and Liz, but the closing shot of the episode shows us Matthew entering the Old House on the grounds of Collinwood.

This is a fast-paced, well-acted, exciting episode. There is also some good soapcraft in it. The Old House and the caretaker’s cottage have by this point been established as permanent parts of the setting of the series. Matthew’s flight from the caretaker’s cottage leads us to expect that sooner or later a new character will take up residence there, and that there will be a new storyline centering on that character.

Our glimpses of the Old House so far have been tantalizing. We’ve seen the ghost of Josette Collins emerge from her portrait there twice. So we know that it is a place where very strange things are going to start happening one of these days. When we see Matthew go into the Old House, we may well expect that the day will soon be upon us.

*Well, the actors who play Vicki, Liz, and the sheriff do- as Frank, it isn’t Conard Fowkes’ job to be interesting.

**Coldwater, Maine is a fictional place, mentioned only in this episode. It’s a testament to the influence Dark Shadows has had in American popular culture that 56 years after a single reference to it in one of the series’ least-seen segments a significant number of people have heard of Coldwater and are interested in moving there.

Episode 61: A sandwich for a lonely man

My wife, Mrs Acilius, pointed out that my post about episode 60 was unfair. She objected to the sentence “The Friday cliffhanger is Burke asking if he may join the Evanses and Vicki for dinner.” As she explained, that moment actually is an effective cliffhanger. I hadn’t mentioned that the sheriff had called drunken artist Sam Evans to warn him that dashing action hero Burke Devlin might be coming to his house, that he urged Sam to call back if Burke did come, and that actor David Ford played Sam’s reaction to this call with a convincing display of terror.

Sam on the phone
Sam trying to conceal his fear from the women behind him and the man on the other end of the call

I also failed to mention the shot when Burke enters the room. Before Sam can get the words out to tell his daughter Maggie not to open the door, Burke has burst in. The scenes in the Evans cottage have been dimly lit, with all three figures moving before dark backgrounds. When the light colored door swings open, its relative brightness feels for a second like a flash, and when he stands in front of it Burke cuts a stark figure. We see him in contrast with Maggie, who stands against a dark background, wearing a dark top and a stunned expression:

Burke enters
Burke enters the Evans cottage

Throughout the episode, Sam had failed repeatedly to exercise any measure of control even in a social situation in his own home where the only other people are his daughter Maggie and well-meaning governess Vicki, the two kindliest characters on the show. The irruption of Burke into that setting is indeed a formidable moment for Sam.

So yes, that was a more plausible Friday cliffhanger than I allowed. Perhaps I was prejudiced against it because I remembered this episode. The purpose of a cliffhanger is to bring the audience back for the next installment. Typically, the next installment will begin by resolving the cliffhanger as quickly and unceremoniously as possible. But today, Burke’s intrusion into the Evans cottage drags on and on. In the process, it does serious harm to Burke’s character.

After rushing into the Evans cottage, Burke defies Sam and Maggie to say that he isn’t welcome. Maggie, unaware of the sheriff’s call urging Sam to let him know if Burke shows up, breaks down and says that of course Burke is welcome. Burke then tries to order Vicki and Maggie into the kitchen so that he can be alone with Sam. Neither woman is at all meek, however, and they stand up to Burke’s browbeating admirably.

Not so Sam. He takes the first opportunity to run away. We know that Sam has his guilty secrets, but he is a likable character, and it is hurts to imagine the pain that will await him the rest of his life whenever he remembers the night he left his daughter and her sweet young friend to face an angry man alone in his house. Sam doesn’t even call the sheriff. Instead, in his panic he goes to the hotel to try to retrieve a sealed envelope he had Maggie leave in the safe there. That gives us a scene with Conrad Bain as hotel manager Mr Wells. Bain is always a delight, and his little business about the envelope is certainly the most pleasant part of the episode. At the end of the episode, Sam will meet Burke at the hotel and ask to talk with him alone in his room, leaving us with the image of him trying to redeem himself in his own eyes.

Before that end comes, however, we have much, much more of Burke trying to bully the young women in the cottage. He won’t let them eat dinner. He harangues them about his manslaughter conviction. In the course of that harangue, it becomes clear that he isn’t thinking at all clearly. “I was drunk and don’t remember too much about that night, but I do remember Roger Collins taking over the wheel.” That’s just delicious- he was hopelessly drunk, blacked out in fact, but he’s pretty sure he remembers giving the keys to someone else before the fatal collision. The fact that his substitute driver was just as drunk as he was doesn’t seem to occur to him as a flaw in his “defense,” nor does the fact that this one convenient piece of information is the only thing to surface from his alcoholic stupor. That sort of thinking runs at such an oblique angle to reality that there would be nothing to say to Burke even if he were willing to listen to you. He goes on to suggest to Maggie that her father may have killed their old friend Bill Malloy, and refuses to leave the house when Maggie tells him to do so.

Burke’s abuse of Sam, Maggie, and Vicki makes it hard for us to like Burke as much as the show needs us to like him. We’re supposed to perk up when he’s on screen, not only because we don’t know what he might do next, but also because we don’t know whether we will approve of whatever surprising thing he makes happen. Even when he is trying to destroy the family to which our point of view character, Vicki, owes her loyalty, we’re supposed to want to see more of him. But when we see him treat Vicki and Maggie the way he does here, the image of him as a grinning thug sticks in the mind, and it is hard to want more of that.

All the more so, perhaps, because of his ineffectiveness as a thug. Our first concern with the show is that it should tell an interesting story, and Burke earns our attention by providing exciting story points. We can like even a very evil character who makes exciting things happen, but someone who simply shows up at your house when you’re about to eat, keeps you from your dinner, rambles on with a lot of nonsense, insults your father, and refuses to leave is just testing your patience for bad conduct.

We can compare Burke as the villain of this episode to another, more interesting villain. Throughout 1966, Mitch Ryan was not only playing Burke on Dark Shadows, but was also on Broadway in Wait Until Dark. In that play, he was one of the con men who, under the control of a mysterious figure calling himself Harry Roat, junior (and senior, but that’s another matter,) talk their way into a blind woman’s apartment and try, at first by trickery and then by threats of murder, to get her to hand over something valuable that she hadn’t realized she had in her possession. Like Maggie and Vicki, the heroine of the play stands up to Ryan’s character and the other villains. She ultimately triumphs over them. Unlike Burke, who is simply indulging on rage for its own sake and boring everyone as he does so, Roat has devised a brilliantly clever scheme to trick his victim, a scheme which fails only because she is his equal in brilliance and his superior in other ways. Wait Until Dark was a major hit in that original Broadway run, as was the movie version the next year and as many revivals of it have been in the years since. If Roat’s activities were as pointless in the play as Burke’s are in this episode, I very much doubt it would have been produced at all.

Episode 60: Double, double

Soap operas are supposed to have a weekly rhythm. Fridays bring a whirlwind of flashy, unexpected events, building up to a big cliffhanger. On Monday, the cliffhanger is resolved and the flashy, unexpected stuff is sorted out so that new viewers can find their way into the show. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, you experiment with new storylines that may or may not go anywhere, and on Thursdays you set up for another boffo Friday.

At no point in its run did Dark Shadows adhere to this pattern. This week, for example, has had four relatively fast-paced episodes on Monday through Thursday, then slows down for a Friday episode consisting of a couple of leisurely conversations. Conversations in which the audience is presented with a lot of basic exposition, but still, a big shift down in dramatic intensity from the four days leading up to it. A bit later, after writer Art Wallace leaves the show, there will be weeks with no apparent structure at all, certainly no boffo whirlwind Fridays. After the show becomes a hit and Sam Hall takes the lead among the writing staff, every day will be a whirlwind, and every commercial break a cliffhanger.

One of today’s conversations takes place in the home Maggie Evans, the nicest girl in town, shares with her father, drunken artist Sam. The other takes place in the sheriff’s office.

Maggie has brought well-meaning governess Vicki home for dinner. They talk about Vicki’s quest to learn the secret of her origins and about the manslaughter case that sent dashing action hero Burke Devlin to prison ten years ago. Meanwhile, Burke has barged into the sheriff’s office and is demanding information about the ongoing investigation into the mysterious death of plant manager Bill Malloy. The sheriff gives Burke more answers than it would be proper for an investigator to give a member of the public in real life, but nonetheless frustrates his need to dash into heroic action. Burke leaves the sheriff’s office, and barges into the Evans cottage as dinner is served. The Friday cliffhanger is Burke asking if he may join the Evanses and Vicki for dinner.

I suppose you could call this one of Art Wallace’s diptychs. Both conversations feature insistent questioners and reluctant responders. Burke improperly demands information from the sheriff. The sheriff parries his demands, observing Burke’s reactions as he sizes him up as a suspect in the case. The sheriff remains very much in control of the situation. As in previous episodes, we see that the sheriff alone exercises power in the sheriff’s office. By contrast, Sam loses control entirely in the face of his two questioners. Again as in previous episodes, we see that Sam has no power to resolve a conflict, whether at home or anywhere else.

That’s the dramatic content of the episode. The expository content is much more involved. Vicki looks through Sam’s paintings, and finds a portrait that strongly resembles her. When Sam tells her that the painting is 25 years old and that the model was a Collinsport girl, Vicki is excited, thinking she may have found a relative. Sam tells her he doesn’t believe that’s possible. He had heard that the model, whose name was Betty Hanscombe, had died a few months after he painted her portrait, years before Vicki was born, and that she had no living relatives.

Vicki and Maggie hold the portrait of Betty Hanscombe
Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die

Note that Sam had only heard that Betty died. She had left town before then, and had no close connections to anyone with whom Sam was in touch. He could easily have heard wrong. So experienced soap opera watchers will brace themselves for the possibility that Betty Hanscombe will make a surprise entrance at some point and reveal herself to be Vicki’s mother and someone else’s secret half-sister.

When Maggie and Vicki ask Sam about the manslaughter case, he becomes agitated. Trapped into telling the story, he takes a drink and looks away from the young women. He tells essentially the same story high-born ne’er-do-well Roger had told his sister, reclusive matriarch Liz, in episode 32, but with some details added.

Burke and Roger were extremely close in those days, ten years ago. For a moment, Sam seems to be having trouble finding the words to express just how close. Along with Burke’s girlfriend Laura, they went drinking one night at a bar on the road between Collinsport and Bangor. Witnesses at the bar testified that Burke was so drunk they had to carry him to his car, and that he insisted on driving. Roger and Laura were his passengers. Burke himself admitted that he blacked out and couldn’t remember the drive. At some point, the car hit and killed a man named Hansen and kept going. At the trial, Roger and Laura testified that Burke was driving when his car hit Hansen. Burke thought that he might have got out of the driver’s seat and handed the keys to Roger before the accident. Burke was convicted, and publicly swore that he would avenge himself on Roger. A week after he was sentenced, Roger and Laura were married.

So that’s the basis for “The Revenge of Burke Devlin” storyline. I’m not a criminal lawyer, but I wonder if Burke wouldn’t have been guilty of manslaughter no matter who was behind the wheel at the moment of the collision. By all accounts, Burke drove drunk, and was drunk in his car when it killed someone. If at some point he stopped driving and handed the keys to someone else whom he knew also to be drunk, that would indeed add to that person’s culpability, but I don’t see how it would clear Burke’s name. To do that, Burke would have to change the events themselves.

To make sense of the storyline, perhaps we can revisit the tale of the night of the accident. Two lovers and their friend were in a car involved in a hit and run. Afterward, one lover turned against the other, and took up with the friend. Everyone thought the lovers before that night were Burke and Laura, and that the friend was Roger. But if the men were lovers and Laura were the friend tagging along on their date, Burke’s frantic campaign to alter the past and Roger’s grim determination to hide it take on a new significance.

The cast of the show and its writing staff were largely drawn from Broadway, where in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s many playwrights had hits with dramas in which some people try to rewrite history and others try to conceal it in desperate attempts to erase unconventional sexual relationships. Indeed, when Sam stumbles in his attempt to find words to describe the bygone intimacy Roger and Burke shared, we can’t help but remember that Sam is played by David Ford, fresh off a long engagement as Big Daddy in a production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. It is by no means fanciful to wonder if that stumble hints at the suspicion of a relationship Tennessee Williams would have found interesting.

Miscellaneous:

At the end of his post about this episode on Dark Shadows from the Beginning, Marc Masse goes on at length about other things you might have seen on television in mid-September 1966. This is not my favorite feature of his blog, but this time it includes a couple of irresistible bits from commercials featuring Dark Shadows cast members. Here’s a still from a spot in which David Henesy sells cereal (with a side of racism, but it’s hard to imagine that was his fault):

Screenshot by Dark Shadows from the Beginning

The same post features an audio clip of Thayer David selling NyQuil. Here’s the commercial: