Haughty overlord Joshua Collins and his long-term house-guest the Countess DuPrés have summoned good witch Bathia Mapes to lift the curse that has made Joshua’s son Barnabas a vampire. Meanwhile, Barnabas has bitten his second cousin Millicent and gone to the waterfront to find another victim. Bloggers Danny Horn, Patrick McCray, and John and Christine Scoleri have said so much so well about this episode that I have only a few points to add.
Millicent tells Joshua that it is wrong of him to have “that man who says he is Barnabas” in the house when he does such frightful things. Nancy Barrett’s performance as a woman made insane by her encounter with the undead is achingly beautiful. And her idea that Barnabas is an impostor is an intriguing one. Should Bathia succeed, Barnabas will need a story to account for the several sightings people made of him when he was cursed. That success seems unlikely- if Barnabas is freed from the curse now, what will we find when Dark Shadows stops being a costume drama set in the 1790s and returns to a contemporary setting? But it is something to file away for future use…
Bathia summons Barnabas away from the docks, where he is about to kill a prostitute, by sending the flame from a candle to him. The movement of the flame is an interesting effect, but what most held my attention was the scene between Barnabas and the woman he almost victimizes. Jonathan Frid and day player Rebecca Shaw play this scene in silence, with exaggerated movements, against a heavy musical score. The resulting balletic interlude is a striking departure from Dark Shadows’ previous form.
Barnabas disappoints his partner at the end of the ballet sequence. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.
Bathia keeps Barnabas in place by showing him a cross from which he recoils. This is the first time we have seen this reaction. Barnabas routinely comes and goes through a cemetery where many of the grave markers are in the shape of the cross, and they don’t bother him a bit.
Not only is it the first time this particular symbol has been a problem for Barnabas, it is the first time Dark Shadows has suggested there might be something to Christianity. The representatives of the faith we have seen so far in the 1790s have been Barnabas’ Aunt Abigail, a disastrously repressed spinster; the Rev’d Mr Bland, of whom the best that could be said was said by the doomed Ruby Tate when she described him to Barnabas as the preacher who looked like a duck; and the Rev’d Mr Trask, a fanatical witchfinder who inadvertently became the handiest tool wicked witch Angelique had at her disposal. The 1960s characters, aside from one fleeting mention of the word “Christmas” in 1966, have not betrayed any awareness that there is such a thing as Christianity.
Bathia commands the spirit of Angelique to speak to them through Barnabas. When Angelique was first on the show, she very conspicuously kept doing many of the weirdest things Barnabas was in the habit of doing in 1967. So Barnabas exasperated his henchmen by fixating on well-meaning governess Vicki but refusing to bite her, insisting that Vicki would eventually come to him “of her own will.” Angelique exasperates her thrall, much put-upon servant Ben, by casting spells on everyone but Barnabas when her goal is to win Barnabas’ love, insisting that Barnabas would eventually come to her “of his own will.” When in 1967 Barnabas sends his thrall Carolyn to steal an incriminating document and she asks what will happen if she is caught, he replies “See that you don’t get caught.” When Angelique sends Ben to steal a hair ribbon from Abigail and he speaks of what will happen if he is caught, she replies “See that you don’t get caught.” Moments like these suggest that the vampire Barnabas is not simply cursed by Angelique, but possessed by her. Perhaps it was Angelique, wearing Barnabas’ body as a suit, that we saw in 1967, not the son of Joshua and Naomi at all.
This fits with the general idea of the supernatural developed in the first 73 weeks of Dark Shadows. The first supernatural menace on the show was undead fire witch Laura Murdoch Collins, who was on from December 1966 to March 1967. Laura was a complex of beings, made up of at least two material bodies and an indeterminate number of spirits, some of which seemed to be unaware of the other parts of the system and pursuing goals incompatible with theirs. From June to November of 1967, the ghost of Barnabas’ little sister Sarah kept trying to contain the damage her big brother was doing to the living characters. Sarah too turned out to be a complicated sort of phenomenon, and the form in which she visited people when they were awake was unaware of and at odds with the form in which she visited them in their dreams. If we go by Laura and Sarah, we would have to assume that supernatural beings are multifarious and fissiparous. So perhaps each time Angelique casts a spell, she splits a bit off of herself and the fragment springs up as another version of her, functioning independently of the rest. In that case, the vampire Barnabas is an avatar of Angelique. When Bathia compels Angelique to speak, she is compelling one of the Angeliques to drop a mask.
The given name “Bathia” is rare; the only person with it who ranks higher in Google search than Bathia Mapes is a musicologist named Bathia Churgin. Professor Churgin was born in New York in 1928, went to Harvard, and taught in the USA until she moved to Israel in 1970. So it is possible that someone connected with Dark Shadows may have heard of Professor Churgin and named Bathia Mapes after her, either as a tribute or just because the name stuck in their mind.
The surname “Mapes” is somewhat less rare; apparently “it is borne by around one in 903,601 people.” In 1963 and 1965, Frank Herbert published two novels that were later issued together under the title Dune; there is an elderly woman with a mystical bent named The Shadout Mapes in those. I’ve never taken much interest in Dune, and owe my awareness of this to comments on Danny Horn’s blog (from Park Cooper here and from “Straker” here.) There doesn’t seem to be much doubt that Bathia’s family name is a nod to The Shadout Mapes; whether it was Sam Hall or another of the writers or someone else who worked on Dark Shadows or one of their kids who had read Dune, I cannot say.
In episode #2 of Dark Shadows, well-meaning governess Vicki first visited the precipice known as Widows’ Hill. She was standing near the edge when high-born ne’er-do-well Roger Collins crept up on her, breaking his silence with a loud voice in a deliberate attempt to startle her. He tells her that she wouldn’t be the first to jump to her death from Widows’ Hill. The precipice is thus established as a place of danger.
Roger surprises Vicki atop Widows’ Hill.
In #5, Vicki again stood atop Widows’ Hill, and again a man she had never met startled her there. He was drunken artist Sam Evans, and he told Vicki the story of Josette Collins, a grand lady of a previous century who leapt to her death from the cliff.
In the same episode, strange and troubled boy David Collins mentions the ghosts of “The Widows” to Vicki. Later, we will hear that these are the ghosts of women who jumped to their deaths from Widows’ Hill at various moments in the nineteenth century. In #12, we will learn of “The Widows’ Wail,” a peculiar sound that can be heard in the wind around Widows’ Hill on nights when the ghosts of these sad women are restless. We will hear the Widows’ Wail several times, most effectively in #344, when Vicki is trying to talk her depressing fiancé Burke out of going on an airplane journey from which he will never return, leaving her a widow before she can become a bride.
The association of Widows’ Hill with deadly danger is reinforced in #50, when Vicki and heiress Carolyn look down from it and see the corpse of beloved local man Bill Malloy on the rocks below.
Bill in the water, as seen from the precipice of Widows’ Hill. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.
In #75, we hark back to Vicki’s first meeting with Roger. Vicki finds Roger standing on the spot where she had stood when he startled her in #2. She reenacts that scene with the roles reversed. He exclaims angrily that she might have caused him to fall; she reminds him that he had done the same to her. He laughs happily and apologizes. They have a sweet little moment together after that, but his protest shows that she really was in danger then, and that she is none too safe now.
The death of Bill set off a series of events that ended with crazed handyman Matthew Morgan abducting Vicki, holding her bound and gagged in the Old House on the estate of Collinwood, and bringing an ax with the express intention of chopping her head off. At the last moment, he is stopped from decapitating Vicki by the manifested ghosts of Josette, the Widows, and Bill. When Bill appears with Josette and the Widows, it ceases to matter that he died somewhere else and only washed up below Widows’ Hill. Thereafter he is joined with them, and like their deaths, his death belongs to that place.
The Dead of Widows Hill confront Matthew. Josette manifested earlier in the episode, and is represented here by her portrait above the mantel. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.
In #266, the Widows briefly reemerged from the supernatural back-world implicit in the action into the story, this time associated with a malign intention towards the characters. Reclusive matriarch Liz heard their voices luring her to throw herself off Widows’ Hill. We haven’t heard about them since then.
Josette’s ghost was central to the action from #126 to #191, when she and Vicki together protected David from his mother, undead fire witch Laura Murdoch Collins. That Laura posed a danger to David was not clear to the characters in #139 and #140, when Laura startled David while he was at the edge of the precipice on Widows’ Hill. Vicki rescued him, then urged him to go to his mother.
In #185, Sam and Vicki visited the Old House, the seat of Josette’s power. Sam saw the portrait of Josette that hangs over the mantel. He asked if she was “the lady who went over the cliff.” Again, we join the image of Widows’ Hill with the concept of danger and the role of David’s protectress. Sam and Vicki came to the Old House to hold a séance. Josette speaks through Vicki at séances, suggesting that in sharing her role with regard to David, Vicki’s personality is coming to merge with that of Josette.
In April 1967, vampire Barnabas Collins succeeded Laura as Dark Shadows‘ resident supernatural menace. Barnabas was too dynamic an adversary for wispy presences like Josette and the Widows to oppose. In #212, he went to the Old House and told Josette’s portrait that her power there was at an end. In #223 and #240, David lamented that the family had lost its tutelary spirit.
With that, Josette ceased to be an active presence. She lost the role of David’s protectress, and with it her link to Vicki. But Josette is still an important element of the show. Instead of a guardian who intervenes in the story, she becomes the object of Barnabas’ obsession. Instead of a companion who acts with Vicki, speaks through her, and inspires her devotion, she becomes Barnabas’ motivation to victimize women, Vicki perhaps to be among them. Vicki’s personality may yet be replaced, not by a merger with Josette’s spirit, but by Barnabas’ insane plan to find a woman he can brainwash into becoming a facsimile of his long-lost, long-dead love.
The transformation of Josette from an active presence to the object of Barnabas’ delusions revolves around Widows’ Hill. In #233, Barnabas tells Vicki and Carolyn a story about Josette’s fatal leap. He says that she threw herself off the cliff to escape a lover with whom she quarreled there. Vicki was a bright person in those days, and she figured out that the lover must have been Barnabas Collins. She believes the Barnabas in question to have been the ancestor of the one she knows, but of course it is the man himself, as he was in that previous century. When Barnabas realizes that Vicki has picked up more information than he intended to disclose, he reacts apprehensively, and seems as if he is thinking about killing her. Barnabas would revise the story of Josette’s death many times, most notably in #345, when told it while standing on Widows’ Hill with his associate, mad scientist Julia Hoffman.
At the end of #365, the visible foreground and the implicit back-world traded places when Vicki came unstuck in time and found herself in the late eighteenth century. When she first arrived in the year 1795, Barnabas and Josette were living beings, as was Barnabas’ little sister Sarah, whose ghost haunted Collinwood in 1967. Sarah is dead and gone now; Barnabas is dead, but as a vampire he is not at all gone. He’s been sucking Josette’s blood, and today he plans to kill her so that she can rise as his undead bride.
Barnabas became the star of Dark Shadows and turned it into a hit with his efforts to scam everyone into believing that he was a living man native to the twentieth century. When Vicki first found herself in 1795, we may have hoped to see her running an equally suspenseful con game. But the show hasn’t given her any such thing to do. Instead, she flailed around helplessly. Lately, she’s taken to telling everyone how and when they will die. That has led to her imprisonment on charges of witchcraft. She told Josette and her aunt, the Countess DuPrés, that Josette would throw herself to her death off Widows’ Hill. The countess has been trying desperately to keep Josette off the hill, and Barnabas doesn’t want her to go there either. But the ghost of wicked witch Angelique tricks her into going there tonight.
Barnabas realizes what has happened. He races to Widows’ Hill. He sees Josette there. Angelique causes Josette to see a gruesome image of a vampiric version of herself, and brings it home that it reflects Barnabas’ plans for her. Barnabas approaches; terrified, Josette flees, and goes over the cliff.
For a scene that we’ve been hearing about for all 85 weeks Dark Shadows has been on the air, Josette’s death is not very impressive visually. Since they are going to pan from Josette and Barnabas over to the ghoul version of Josette, they have to put the camera very close to the action. The whole sequence also has to be in a low contrast color scheme for the ghoul version to have its effect. The tight frame and the drab palette make it impossible to create an illusion of space, leaving Jonathan Frid and Kathryn Leigh Scott looking like a couple of people monkeying around in a tiny television studio. At times we see so little of the set that it is not clear what’s happening. We don’t even see the edge of the cliff, blunting the effect of the climactic fall.
The introduction of the living Josette to the ensemble during the 1795 segment reduced the character’s importance in the show’s mythology. That is not any reflection on Miss Scott’s performance, or even of the scripts she had to work with or the direction she had to follow. It is the consequence of the whole idea of supernaturalism. To accept the idea of the supernatural is to believe that what seems to be weak is in fact strong. The dead, to all outward appearances, would seem to be utterly powerless, and the living would seem to have a monopoly on the means of making things happen in the world. But phantoms and revenants and zombies and vampires and the rest are supposed to have overwhelming advantages that we can defeat only by precise application of knowledge that only the rarest sort of people have. Likewise, people who are disadvantaged by the social order of the visible world are supposed to have access to powers in the supernatural realm that leave even the most eminent people at their mercy. So servant girl Angelique brought lofty aristocrats Barnabas and Josette to the very lowest of positions.
As a living person, Josette is charming, kindly, and beautiful. But she is not at all forceful. She cannot be. If she were, her ghost could not have gained the potency it would have in the 1960s. Our acquaintance with the living Josette has been a long anticlimax to the tales of her sovereign haunting of Collinwood. Her death scene is an anticlimax to that anticlimax. Widows’ Hill itself will continue to be a place of danger and death, but Josette will no longer be its patroness in the way she was before this episode.
When Dark Shadows first aired in June 1966, it kept hinting that behind the action we saw there was a back-world of supernatural presences some of whom might eventually interact with the characters. Often these hints occurred in conversations between a character native to the village of Collinsport and newly arrived governess Vicki. The local would use the word “ghost” metaphorically to refer to unresolved conflicts around the estate of Collinwood, Vicki would shriek “You don’t mean you believe in ghosts!?,” and the other would say that he damn well did believe in ghosts and that if Vicki stuck around long enough she would, too.
The first ghost whose name we heard was Josette, mentioned in #5 as a grand lady from France who came to town to marry Jeremiah Collins, was unhappy with him, and threw herself to her death from the precipice known as Widows’ Hill. Josette manifested herself on camera in #70 and rescued Vicki from murderous groundskeeper Matthew Morgan in #126. In that climactic encounter, we saw Josette and a group of other wraiths. Joining the ghosts of women who jumped from Widows’ Hill at various points in the 19th century was the ghost of Bill Malloy, who had been a living character in the first ten weeks of the show and had shimmered into view as a ghost and sang a song in #85. This assemblage suggests that the spectres haunting Collinwood know each other and act with a common purpose at least occasionally.
The first supernatural menace to appear on the show was undead fire witch Laura Murdoch Collins, mother of strange and troubled boy David. Josette warned several characters of the threat Laura posed to David. Josette herself was unable to fight Laura directly. In #165, she manifested in the room where Laura held the sleeping David, but had to retreat when Laura ordered her to go. Thereafter it was up to Vicki, advised by Josette, to organize the opposition to Laura. If #126 showed that the benevolent spirits can act together to defeat a threat from a mortal man, #165 and its aftermath showed that they must withdraw into the back-world when the enemy is of an uncanny nature.
In April of 1967, vampire Barnabas Collins succeeded Laura as the show’s new danger from beyond the grave. In #212, Barnabas went to the Old House at Collinwood, the place where Josette is most present, and told her portrait above the mantel that her power was at an end. In #223 and #240, Josette’s friend David felt her absence from the Old House and lamented that the family had lost its tutelary spirit. With that, we bid farewell to the wispy presences we had seen in #126. A vampire is too dynamic an adversary for them. It seemed for a period that the show had simplified its ontology- there are those who live by the laws of nature we know, there is Barnabas, and that is that.
That period ended in #255. Barnabas has passed himself off as a cousin from the Collins family’s long-lost English branch and settled in to the Old House. He is keeping Maggie Evans, The Nicest Girl in Town, as a prisoner in a barred cell in the basement. Maggie looks out her window and sees a little girl in 18th century garb sitting in the corridor. The girl is holding a doll and singing “London Bridge.” She does not respond to Maggie’s attempts to get her attention.
In the next several episodes, we learn that the little girl’s name is Sarah, that she has a big brother, and that she can’t find anyone she knows. Even if the closing credits hadn’t immediately given away the fact that she is the ghost of Barnabas’ little sister, we would be able to gather that she is a supernatural being who was pulled out of the back-world when Barnabas rose from the grave. For the next 22 weeks, Sarah keeps popping up in the world of 1967. We wonder what she will do next, when she and Barnabas will confront each other, and what other paranormal beings are waiting to erupt into the visible world.
In #365, the major characters held a séance to contact Sarah and ask her what she was trying to tell them. Sarah spoke through Vicki and said that she would not appear to them again. She also said that she wanted to “tell the story from the beginning.” With that, Vicki vanished from the table and a woman in an 18th century dress appeared in her place. The woman identified herself as Phyllis Wick, governess to Sarah Collins, and demanded to know where she was. Meanwhile, Vicki found herself in the year 1795, in Phyllis’ place. At a stroke, the back-world and the foreground are interchanged.
Now it is 26 January 1796, Sarah’s eleventh birthday. She is not having a happy one. Last night she found Barnabas in the family mausoleum with blood smeared on his face. She may not know that he has become a vampire, but she knows that something has gone horribly wrong with him. She runs off and hides behind a tombstone. By the time faithful servant Ben finds her and carries her home, she is severely weakened by exposure. She cannot speak, but mouths Barnabas’ name and looks distressed. Her mother Naomi and cousin Millicent keep vigil at her bedside.
Night falls; Barnabas rises again, and Ben tells him that Sarah is gravely ill. Barnabas resolves to visit her. Unable to talk him out of this plan, Ben offers to help him get into her room unobserved.
Ben relieves Naomi and Millicent, then ushers Barnabas into the room. Barnabas tries to reassure Sarah. Eventually she warms to him. She regains the power of speech, and with her first words she asks her brother to hold her. He does. She tells him she will always love him, then dies in his arms.
This is Sharon Smyth’s last appearance on Dark Shadows. As a child, she had some rather obvious limitations as an actress, a fact Sharon Smyth Lentz cheerfully acknowledges nowadays. During her first 22 weeks, she was playing a ghost, so there were many scenes where all she had to do was seem vague and detached and she could be effective. The story moved very slowly during that period, giving the writers and directors time to figure out her strengths. Near the end of it, she excelled in two scenes with a lot of dialogue. In #348 she had a complicated, serious conversation with heiress Carolyn Collins Stoddard, and in #364 she had her confrontation with Barnabas. Supported by Nancy Barrett and Jonathan Frid, she executed those scenes very well indeed.
In 1795, Sarah is alive and the plot moves at a breakneck pace. Under those conditions, it would have taken intricate advance planning to craft scenes that would have been in Sharon Smyth’s range. But the writers of Dark Shadows rarely had time to do any advance planning. When the show was moving slowly enough, they could usually hit all the major points the audience would expect to see, but there are some glaring omissions in 1795. Young Daniel Collins will be played by David Henesy, who also plays David Collins. Since the relationship between Vicki and David had been the core of the first 39 weeks of the show and the relationship between Sarah’s ghost and David had been one of the most intriguing elements of the 22 weeks she was haunting Collinwood, it is particularly disappointing that we barely see Vicki with Sarah and never see Sarah and Daniel together at all.
I first saw Dark Shadows on the SciFi Channel, as it was then called, in the 1990s. I saw a handful of episodes on random mornings when I happened to be off work. They whetted my curiosity about the show, but I left it to chance until I saw an episode with Sarah’s ghost. Then I decided to set my VCR and watch regularly until I found an explanation for what was going on with her. The whole idea of supernaturalism is that there are phenomena which defy explanation, so of course I never reached that point. Naturally, I got hooked on the show within a couple of weeks.
On his Dark Shadows Every Day, Danny Horn rather unfairly, albeit hilariously, griped that “Sharon stopped acting after Dark Shadows, or possibly during.” When she looks back on her days as a child actress, Mrs Lentz talks about how excited her mother was to meet show biz celebrities, and says that her main gratification was in pleasing her. But she has fond memories of many castmates, and says that her favorite person to run lines with was Jonathan Frid. So there is something sweet about her ending her time on the show in his arms.
In a moment of anger, wicked witch Angelique cursed her husband Barnabas Collins. In the first stage of the curse, a bat bit Barnabas on the neck. Barnabas lost a great deal of blood, and now has a high fever. If he dies, he will rise as a vampire. Angelique regrets placing the curse and is trying to undo it.
At the top of today’s episode, Angelique is fussing over a large bloodstain on the floor of the front parlor. With a word, she can turn Barnabas into a vampire. Earlier, she turned his father Joshua into a cat one day and back into a human another day. She made Barnabas’ true love, the gracious Josette, conceive a mad passion for his uncle, Jeremiah, made Jeremiah reciprocate it, and drove the two of them to elope. She enthralled Barnabas’ devoted friend, much put-upon servant Ben Stokes, and forced him to assist her in her evil plans. She could sicken Barnabas’ little sister Sarah and kill her or heal her as she chose. She made bewildered time traveler Vicki suffer hallucinations that led her to incriminate herself as the witch. Yet for all her powers over humans, she is utterly stumped by the stain on the floor. She stares at it and talks to herself for a minute or two, helplessly rubs it with a dry cloth, then stands up, defeated. Considering that she was a lady’s maid until she married Barnabas, you might think that the first thing she would have learned when she took up black magic would be spells to help with the house-cleaning, but evidently not.
Unlike the blood on Lady MacBeth’s hands, the stain on the floor is visible to everyone. Barnabas’ mother Naomi sees it when she has come to the house and asked to see her son. Angelique denies that he is there. We cut back and forth between the women in the front parlor and Barnabas in his sick room. When Naomi notices the bloodstain on the floor, Angelique claims that it is a wine stain. Naomi is a serious alcoholic, so she probably knows the difference between a wine stain and a bloodstain. The ailing Barnabas makes noises that Naomi hears, and Angelique claims that they are just the sounds of the house. Naomi lived in the house until she gave it to Barnabas a couple of weeks before, so she probably knows the house’s noises well enough that this won’t fool her either. Even after Angelique has resorted to these two very ill-chosen lies, Naomi gives up and goes away. It is fun to watch Angelique struggle to find a way out of an awkward situation with her mother-in-law, and touching to see that Naomi is so determined to believe the best about Barnabas and his new wife that she decides to accept Angelique’s explanations.
Angelique goes upstairs and gives Barnabas a potion meant to cure him of her curse. She is terribly upset when it doesn’t work. We’ve seen Angelique regret her spells before, and in #377 we heard her thinking about the fact that she can’t control their effects once she has cast them. But this is the first time we have seen her go so far in an effort to undo her evil deeds. When she offers to bring Josette to Barnabas, there is enough desperation on her face that it seems plausible that she sincerely intends to let her rival try to help him.
In the great house, Naomi and Joshua quarrel about Barnabas and Angelique. Joshua claims that he has not the slightest concern about Barnabas; as soon as Naomi leaves the room to answer the door, we see a haunted look on his face that shows this to be a lie. It’s a wonderful touch, and sets up an expectation that Joshua will soon relent in his hostility to Barnabas.
Naomi opens the door to find Josette and her aunt, the Countess DuPrés. When the bat attacked Barnabas, Josette and the countess were many miles away from Collinwood, yet Josette not only sensed that something terrible was happening, streams of blood appeared on her neck at the same spots where they appeared on Barnabas’ neck. After this experience, they hastened back to Collinwood.
While Josette and the countess were in the inn far away, a bat appeared outside their window. Though Angelique has been dispatching bats to do her bidding, she did not then know and still does not know where Josette and the countess were at that time. Regular viewers of Dark Shadows should be ready for this. The show’s first supernatural menace, undead fire witch Laura Murdoch Collins, was introduced in December 1966 as an assortment of related but autonomous phenomena, and we saw in 1967 that the ghost of Sarah was also made up of several parts, not all of which were aware of each other or working towards the same goals. So the bat that spies on Barnabas, the bat that bites Barnabas, and the bat that hangs around Josette and the countess may all be parts of the complex known as “Angelique,” but that need not mean that they are all under the control of the woman we know by that name or that she is even aware of them.
Josette is determined to help Barnabas and says that she and her aunt will be going to the Old House to ask Angelique where he is. Naomi is sure Angelique does not know, but Josette and the countess insist on going to the Old House anyway.
When Naomi came to visit, Angelique had to be pleasant. Naomi is Barnabas’ mother, and she is the only ally Angelique can hope to have in the family. But she doesn’t have any need to be nice to Josette or the countess. She keeps telling them to get out of her house, and they keep refusing. Finally they are on their way to the door when they hear Barnabas’ voice crying out “Josette!” At that, there’s no stopping Josette from rushing up the staircase to his room. The countess holds Angelique back, and Josette finds Barnabas bleeding and delirious. He keeps calling her name, unable to recognize that she is with him. He staggers past her. His back to her, he leans out into the hallway and calls “Josette! Josette!” It’s a poignant image of a man who has never fully appreciated anything he had, and who has now lost everything.
Gallant gentleman Barnabas Collins discovered that his wife, Angelique, was a wicked witch and a deadly threat to his true love, the gracious Josette. He did not tell anyone what he knew about Angelique, but did persuade Josette to flee. Today, Angelique discovers that Josette is beyond the range of her powers.
In her rage, Angelique takes a doll belonging to Barnabas’ little sister Sarah. She sticks pins in it; Barnabas has learned that this causes Sarah to become ill. Angelique is about to stick a pin into the doll’s heart when Barnabas takes a dueling pistol and shoots Angelique.
Angelique drops the doll; Barnabas takes the pins from it. Angelique presses her hand to her shoulder while delivering a long, bombastic speech. Barnabas has plenty of time to reload the pistol and shoot her again, but chooses just to stand there and listen to her. This turns out to be a bad decision when she ends the speech by placing a curse on him. He will spend all eternity unable to rest, and everyone who loves him will die. Having completed her death scene, she ostentatiously collapses.
We hear a window smashing. A bat appears. It approaches Barnabas. He yells at it, flails his arms, and walks backward. This is an echo of #330, which ended with strange and troubled boy David Collins reacting the same way when the same puppet appeared in his bedroom. David was a neurotic and isolated pre-teen who had been through a lot of trauma, so that was an effective scene. Barnabas is a grown man who has been trying to function as an action hero. Seeing him as the equivalent of a cartoon lady standing on a chair screaming because she saw a mouse rather undercuts this. Anyway, the bat bites Barnabas on the neck, so now he’s going to be a vampire.
The bite. Not Barnabas’ cloak in the background, playing the role of The Grim Reaper. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.
In #330, it was Barnabas who sent the bat against David. This is one of many indications that the vampire Barnabas we knew from April to November of 1967 was not only under Angelique’s curse, but that he was in some sense a manifestation of Angelique. Maybe when she casts a spell, she breaks off a chunk of herself and that chunk goes about the world pursuing its own objectives. The image of a supernatural being as a complex of vaguely related but independent phenomena has been standard in Dark Shadows since undead fire witch Laura Murdoch Collins first appeared on the show in December of 1966, so regular viewers are prepared to learn that the vampiric Barnabas is a subcategory of the syndrome known as “Angelique.”
This episode explains how a couple of the more important props got to be in the places we are used to seeing them. Early in the episode, Barnabas gives Josette a music box. This music box figured heavily in the story from May to August 1967 as a symbol of Josette and as a vehicle for some kind of magic spell that was supposed to turn other people into her. A bit later, we see that Barnabas has hung the portrait of Josette over the mantle in the front parlor of the Old House. It was there when we first saw the Old House in #70, and was the focus of all supernatural phenomena on the show from then until Barnabas reclaimed the Old House in #212.
Well-meaning governess Vicki is wrongly suspected of witchcraft and needs a place to hide. Young gentleman Barnabas takes her into his house. In her gratitude, Vicki tells Barnabas the truth about herself. She is a time-traveler, yanked back to this year 1795 from her native 1967 by forces she does not understand. Indentured servant Ben enters the room and Vicki leaves. Mystified by her story, Barnabas asks Ben if he thinks Vicki might be a witch after all.
It is exciting when Vicki starts confiding in Barnabas. She has utterly failed to adapt to her new environment, and has none of the abilities she would need to scam her way into a secure place there. She has ended up as an obstacle to story development and an irritating screen presence. If Vicki isn’t going to lie competently, she may as well tell the truth. But that turns out to be a dead end as well- there is no use for Barnabas to make of the information she has given him.
Barnabas doesn’t repeat Vicki’s story to Ben- he just reports that she said something utterly bizarre. What Barnabas does not know, but Ben does, is that there really is a witch in the house- it is Barnabas’ bride-to-be Angelique. Angelique has enslaved Ben, so if he found out Vicki’s secret she would as well, and would be able to use it against her as she frames Vicki for all of her own crimes. Ben proclaims to Barnabas his absolute certainty that Vicki is not a witch, but since he can’t tell anyone about Angelique, this only puzzles Barnabas. Barnabas is further baffled when Ben says he hopes that Barnabas’ marriage to Angelique brings an end to his troubles.
The other day, Angelique tried to solve a problem of her own by raising a corpse from its grave. This was the late Jeremiah Collins, uncle of Barnabas and his best friend until, under the influence of Angelique’s spell, he and Barnabas’ fiancée Josette eloped together. Barnabas responded to that by challenging Jeremiah to a duel. Conscience-stricken, Jeremiah decided to let Barnabas kill him and told Josette that she would be free to marry Barnabas once he was dead.
Angelique had ordered Jeremiah to plague Josette and Barnabas with angry demands that they stay apart. We could interpret that simply as puppetry on Angelique’s part. But today, Jeremiah is harassing Angelique and refusing her repeated commands to go back to his grave. He says he was at peace in the earth until Angelique disturbed him. He was content with his decision to forfeit his life, but now he has become something he didn’t bargain for. Maybe it’s the indignity of that change that accounts for his change of personality, or maybe he’s just cranky because he can’t get back to sleep.
Regular viewers will think of a third possibility. In the segments of Dark Shadows set in 1966 and 1967, we saw other supernatural beings, such as undead fire witch Laura Murdoch Collins and the ghosts of Josette and of Barnabas’ little sister Sarah. These beings looked at first glance like humans, but the more we learned about them the clearer it became that each was in fact a complex of multiple entities, some of which operated independently of and occasionally at cross-purposes with others. As a witch, Angelique might also be a composite being. Perhaps each time she casts a spell, she breaks off a little piece of herself and deposits it within the person she is trying to control. If so, the creature she is trying to send away is not simply Jeremiah, but the body of Jeremiah animated by a chunk of the spirit of Angelique. That would explain why the actions of the risen Jeremiah are characterized by three traits that were alien to the living man, but that Angelique has in abundance- single-mindedness, vengefulness, and ineffectiveness.
Barnabas, Ben, and a clergyman are in the front parlor, ready for the wedding. Angelique takes a long time to come downstairs. Barnabas goes up to her room to see what is keeping her. He finds her terribly upset, insisting that they have the ceremony somewhere else. Barnabas looks in her suitcase, which had a moment before held the clothes she removed to put on her bridal gown. Those clothes have vanished, and in their place Barnabas finds a doll belonging to his little sister Sarah and some pins. Had Barnabas ever seen a horror movie, he would know to interpret this as a clue from Jeremiah that Angelique had caused a recent illness of Sarah’s by sticking pins in her doll, but people didn’t get to the cinema in 1795, so it’s another dead end.
Angelique composes herself and says she will be right down for the wedding. Barnabas leaves the room. The door closes itself, and Angelique cannot open it. Jeremiah enters and tells Angelique she must be punished for disturbing the dead. He takes her to his grave, which is open. Angelique raised Jeremiah some days ago- if the grave has been open this whole time, you’d think someone would have noticed and people would be talking about it. Anyway, he puts her in the grave, and from her point of view we see him throwing dirt into it.
Jeremiah dropping dirt onto Angelique, from her point of view. Screenshot by
This is the first live burial we’ve seen on Dark Shadows. It’s true that the POV shot from inside the grave echoes a moment in #248 when Barnabas, who is in 1967 a vampire, shuts his prisoner Maggie Evans in a coffin and we see him through her eyes, but that coffin wasn’t in the ground.
Harking back as it does to that shocking moment from Barnabas’ early days on the show, the image of the reanimated Jeremiah dropping dirt in the grave invites us to make a comparison between Jeremiah and Barnabas. In life Jeremiah was a mild-mannered, good-hearted fellow, as is the living Barnabas. The destructive behavior he has exhibited since Angelique raised him from the dead is not only typical of her, but also of what we saw from the vampire Barnabas in 1967. Again, we wonder if the fate that awaits Barnabas is not only something Angelique will do to him, but if everything we saw of him in the months between April and November was what Angelique was doing disguised as him.
Closing Miscellany
Angelique’s repeated commands to Jeremiah today to “Go back to your grave!” find an echo in one of the great moments in the history of Dark Shadows conventions, when Lara Parker used that line to explain the Dark Shadows house style of acting:
“Go back to your grave!!!!!”
When Vicki tells Barnabas the truth about herself, the camerawork makes Alexandra Moltke Isles’ strabismus impossible to miss. Previously they had taken great care to photograph her from angles that would obscure this condition, but we’re going to get another clear look at it on Thursday. Combined with the lousy lines the scripts have given Vicki since the beginning of the 1795 segment, it is hard not to suspect that there was some kind of deliberate effort behind the scenes to push Mrs Isles aside.
This was the first episode of Dark Shadows broadcast in 1968. The copyright date printed on the screen at the end still says 1967. They were several months late before they stopped putting “1966” there, so I guess we shouldn’t be surprised they didn’t update it for an episode shown on New Year’s Day.
The ghost of Jeremiah Collins has gone to the newly built great house of Collinwood and made a terrible mess in the bedroom that was to be occupied by a house-guest of the Collins family, the Countess DuPrés. Among those who discover the mess is Angelique, who was the countess’ maid before she became the fiancée of Jeremiah’s nephew, Barnabas. Not everyone in the house knows of the change in Angelique’s station, so it is unclear whether she ought to stick with her former role and clean the room herself or start functioning as a member of the family by calling for a servant to do it. Since Angelique is also the wicked witch who raised Jeremiah from the grave, putting her in this awkward position would seem to be a passive-aggressive way for him to get back at her.
Repressed spinster Abigail Collins, sister of the master of the house, comes into the room. She insults Angelique’s former master, the countess’ brother André, prompting him to leave the room in a huff. Angelique begins to follow André, but Abigail orders her to to stay.
Angelique has taken no care to cover her tracks, and it is obvious to all that something very unusual has been happening around the estate of Collinwood since she arrived. Most of those who have witnessed the strange goings-on are rational, modern people who are reluctant to believe in the supernatural, and the rest have settled on the idea that eccentric governess Victoria Winters is the witch. But Abigail has learned of Angelique’s engagement to Barnabas, has realized that every bizarre occurrence has contributed to making it possible, and has concluded that Angelique is in league with Vicki and the devil.
Up to this point, Abigail has been a figure who did ridiculous things but whom we came to respect as we saw that a person of her time and place might well have interpreted the information available to her as she does. In this scene, she isn’t ridiculous at all. She is mistaken about Vicki, who is a well-meaning innocent. But she has figured Angelique out long before anyone else has even begun to suspect her. Abigail emerges as a character who is smart enough to turn the story in fresh and surprising directions.
Once Abigail has left the room, Angelique summons Jeremiah and tells him she has something for him to do before she will let him return to his grave. Jeremiah has already gone beyond the instructions she gave him, not only in befouling the countess’ room but also in repeatedly showing himself to Naomi Collins, the lady of the house. But I suppose Angelique has such a limited staff she can’t afford to let someone go for overenthusiasm.
We see Barnabas in his new room in the great house. His friend Nathan comes and asks him about the report that he is going to marry Angelique. Barnabas confirms that it is true, and assures Nathan that Angelique is not pregnant.
As written, the scene is a bit of a throwaway, but the actors flirt with each other pretty blatantly throughout the scene. As the screenshot above shows, it begins with Nathan thrusting his crotch into Barnabas’ face while Barnabas smiles appreciatively, and it continues along that line. Considering that Nathan is puzzled that Barnabas wants to marry a woman, even a beautiful one, and that viewers know that Barnabas intends it to be a sham marriage, the flirty tone makes it hard not to recognize a comment on a familiar closet situation. Jonathan Frid and Joel Crothers were both gay, but they had many scenes together and never seemed to be flirting at any other time, so perhaps this comment was intentional on their part and that of director John Sedwick.
After Nathan leaves, Jeremiah appears in Barnabas’ room. He denounces Barnabas for killing him in a duel over the gracious Josette and vows to haunt Barnabas and Josette forever if they marry.
This does not at all reflect the attitude Jeremiah had in life. Jeremiah and Josette married under the influence of a spell Angelique cast on them, and they deeply regretted the pain their elopement brought Barnabas. In his last conversation with Josette before the duel, Jeremiah made it clear that he was going to let Barnabas kill him and that it was all right with him if Josette and Barnabas went on to marry. Jeremiah’s rantings to Barnabas today are Angelique’s words, not his own. This leads us to wonder if she is simply manipulating him as a puppet, or if some fragment of her personality took up residence in Jeremiah when she raised him from the dead. We’ve seen several times that supernatural beings on Dark Shadows are complex phenomena made of parts that work independently and often at cross-purposes with each other, so perhaps when Angelique casts a spell she is dividing herself into parts that will thwart each other’s goals.
Regular viewers know that the segment of the show set in 1795 will show us Barnabas becoming a vampire. We assume that Angelique will be responsible for this transformation. Since the Barnabas we knew in 1967 showed many of the personality traits that Angelique has shown in 1795, seeing her at least use Jeremiah’s reanimated corpse as a mouthpiece for her words and perhaps turn it into a part of herself makes us speculate if the vampiric Barnabas we thought we knew was really Angelique all along.
After Jeremiah leaves Barnabas’ room, Angelique comes in. She tells Barnabas that Abigail is making trouble for them, he tells her about Jeremiah’s apparition, and they decide to marry at once. This three-part sequence in Barnabas’ room- his scenes with Nathan, with Jeremiah, and then with Angelique- mirrors a sequence in Josette’s room in yesterday’s episode, in which she is visited by Jeremiah, then by the countess, then by Angelique. That sequence ended with Angelique telling Josette that she and Barnabas were to be married and thus represented a step towards the wedding. The echo of its structure at the end of today’s installment gives us a sense that the wedding is approaching with irresistible momentum.
Like every other episode of Dark Shadows, this one opens with a voiceover delivered by a member of the cast. The voiceovers in the segment of the series set in the year 1795 usually begin thus:
A séance has been held in the great house of Collinwood, a séance which has suspended time and space and sent one girl on an uncertain and frightening journey into the past, back to the year 1795. There, each of the Collins ancestors resembles a present-day member of the Collins family. But the names and relationships have changed, and Victoria Winters finds herself a stranger in a sea of familiar faces.
The “sea of familiar faces” results from the same actors appearing in the parts of the show set in different periods. The emphasis the show places on this, both by the repeated use of “sea of familiar faces” in one opening voiceover after another and by the hapless Vicki’s (Alexandra Moltke Isles) exasperating habit of telling the characters that they are being played by actors who previously took other parts, gives the audience a reading instruction. Evidently we are meant to compare and contrast each actor’s twentieth century and eighteenth century roles.
The first face we see today is the only unfamiliar one that has bobbed to the surface of the 1795 sea. It belongs to wicked witch/ lady’s maid Angelique, played by Lara Parker. Angelique had a brief fling with young gentleman Barnabas Collins (Jonathan Frid) some time ago. They met when he first went to the island of Martinique and met her employers, the wealthy DuPrés family.
Barnabas had fallen in love with the gracious young Josette DuPrés (Kathryn Leigh Scott,) but was convinced Josette could never love him. Barnabas consoled himself in Angelique’s arms until he realized Josette did love him. Barnabas and Josette agreed to marry. Josette came to Collinwood for the wedding, accompanied by her father André (David Ford) and her aunt, the Countess DuPrés (Grayson Hall.) Angelique is the countess’ maid, but also attends Josette.
Angelique used her powers of black magic to make Josette and Jeremiah Collins (Anthony George,) Barnabas’ uncle, conceive a mad passion for each other. Josette and Jeremiah eloped, breaking Barnabas’ heart. Barnabas and Jeremiah fought a duel; consumed with remorse, Jeremiah let his nephew kill him. Even after all that, Barnabas realized he would always love Josette, a fact of which he apprised Angelique. Frustrated to find that she could never have Barnabas, Angelique yesterday announced in a soliloquy that she would punish him by forcing him to watch his beloved little sister Sarah (Sharon Smyth) suffer. At the top of the episode, Angelique is in her room in the servants’ quarters of Collinwood’s manor house with Sarah’s doll and some pins.
We cut to the front parlor, where Sarah is looking up adoringly at her mother Naomi Collins (Joan Bennett,) who is reciting a story. We cut back to Angelique, who drives a pin into Sarah’s doll. In the front parlor, Sarah clutches her chest and cries out in pain. Angelique sticks more pins into the doll, and Sarah cries out again.
In the parts of Dark Shadows set in the 1960s, Joan Bennett plays matriarch Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, owner of the great estate of Collinwood, of the Collins family enterprises, and of any other piece of property that they decide to tell a story about. In Liz’ time, the Collins family is much decayed from its eminence in 1795, but she is still the foremost figure in the town of Collinsport, and would have the authority to make just about anything happen. In fact, Liz can rarely bring herself to do very much that pertains to the plot, but when she does speak up we can see that she has great depths.
Naomi, by contrast, is utterly powerless, shut out by her husband, haughty overlord Joshua (Louis Edmonds) even from the management of the house. In today’s pre-title teaser, we see Sarah sitting on the floor of the front parlor, looking up adoringly while Naomi recites a story to her. That Naomi is reciting to Sarah rather than reading to her reminds us of what we learned when first we saw her in #366, that unlike most women in eighteenth century New England Naomi is altogether illiterate. Naomi occasionally bewails her inability to spend her time productively, and often drinks.
Sharon Smyth plays Sarah in 1795. In 1967, she was Sarah’s ghost, a frequent visitor to Collinwood and its environs. Sarah’s ghost was quite a different character than is the living Sarah. The little girl in the white bonnet who showed up in the oddest places and made the oddest remarks was only one aspect of a vast and mighty dislocation in time and space. It was Sarah’s ghost that started Vicki’s “uncertain and frightening journey into the past.”
Miss Smyth* nowadays describes her acting style when she was nine and ten saying “the first word that comes to mind is ‘clueless,'” but that works out surprisingly well for a ghost. It isn’t clear to us how the visible part of the Sarah phenomenon relates to the rest, much less how the whole thing works, and it can’t be clear- if a phenomenon stops being mysterious, it isn’t supernatural anymore. So it is gripping to see that the visible Sarah is herself in the dark about what she represents. That doesn’t work so well for living characters. When Miss Smyth can’t take her eyes off the teleprompter while delivering lines like “Help me, mother! It hurts!,” we can perhaps see one reason why the unfathomably mighty Sarah of 1967 was reduced to such a subordinate role in 1795.
But Miss Smyth’s limitations as a performer were not the only reason this development was inevitable. The whole idea of the supernatural is that something which appears to be very weak is in fact very strong. So children usually have fewer resources at their disposal than do adults, females are less likely to be found in positions of authority than are males, and the dead cannot rival the dynamism of the living. So the ghost of a little girl will of course be an immense force. The Sarah we see in 1795 is not yet a supernatural being, and so it would ruin the irony if even before her death she were already great and powerful.
In the part of the show set in 1967, Liz was one of the few major characters who never saw the ghost of Sarah. Liz was pretty firmly in denial about all reports of paranormal phenomena, and in #348 Sarah would declare that she could appear only to people who were prepared to believe in ghosts. So it is a bit startling for regular viewers to see these two actors together for the first time. Naomi is the same calm, indulgent presence to Sarah that Liz is to the children in her life, suggesting that though “the names and relationships have changed,” Liz and Naomi are two versions of the same person.
If the viewer’s main activity in watching the 1795 segment is contrasting the characters with those played by the same actors in the first 73 weeks, Angelique’s prominence is a puzzle. She is the only one who doesn’t fit into that scheme, yet she has driven all of the action so far. By the end of today’s episode, I think we can see a 1967 character with whom Angelique stands in juxtaposition. That character is Barnabas.
From April to November of 1967, Dark Shadows was largely the story of vampire Barnabas Collins (Jonathan Frid) and his attempt to impersonate a living man native to the twentieth century. It was so much fun to watch Barnabas scramble to keep this game going that the audience found it easy to put to one side the horrible evil he did and to look for reasons to think of him as good. But if we ever succeeded in doing that, Dark Shadows would be ruined. A deep-dyed villain allows a drama to be less serious overall than it might otherwise be, so that a thoroughly bad Barnabas lightens the tone. Make him relatable, or even forgivable, and everything gets terribly serious again. Yet a nonthreatening vampire is a purely comic character, like Count von Count on Sesame Street. So until they can establish another Big Bad, Barnabas has to be beyond redemption. If he is a lovable guy who just needs help dealing with his neck-biting problem, he has no place on the show, and it has no story left to tell. So they spent the fall systematically kicking away every possible mitigating factor and forcing us to behold Barnabas’ unrelieved evil.
The last hope of redemption for Barnabas in 1967 was his attachment to the late Sarah. Sarah had died when she was about ten, and her ghost started haunting the estate of Collinwood back in June, when Barnabas was holding Maggie Evans, The Nicest Girl in Town (Kathryn Leigh Scott,) prisoner in his basement. By November, many people had seen and talked with Sarah, but she had shunned Barnabas, even though he was desperately eager to reconnect with his baby sister. In his speeches about his longing for Sarah and in two moments when a suggestion he might see Sarah distracted him from a murder he was in the middle of committing, we saw the possibility that when Barnabas was finally reunited with her, he would change his ways.
That reunion finally took place in #364. Sarah walks in as Barnabas is strangling his only friend and sometime co-conspirator, mad scientist Julia Hoffman (Grayson Hall.) Barnabas does let Julia go, and has a heartfelt conversation with Sarah. Sarah says that she will not come back until Barnabas learns to be good. We can see just how long that is likely to be when, less than two minutes after Sarah has vanished, Barnabas tells Julia that, while he may not kill her tonight, her existence means no more to him than does that of a moth.
When even a direct encounter with Sarah cannot move Barnabas to find value in human life, we see that what Barnabas wanted when he was yearning for her to come near him was not to renew a relationship in which anything would be expected of him, but was something more like nostalgia. He has moved into the house where he spent his time when he was alive, and has restored it to its appearance in those days. He once persuaded his distant relatives, Liz and the other living members of the Collins family, to attend a party in that house dressed in clothing that belonged to their ancestors of his period and answering to their names. And he cherishes a fantasy that a young woman will discard her personality and replace it with that of Josette, then come to him and live out the life he had once believed he would have, long ago. His wishes for Sarah are of a piece with these attempts to recreate a past world. He wants to reenact the time he had with her, not to face the present alongside her. Barnabas is a damned soul, unable to love, unable to grow, unable to do anything for the first time.
Today, the show pushes Angelique into the same “Irredeemable” category where his reaction to Sarah’s visit had landed Barnabas. Again, it is an interaction with Sarah that represents the last straw. Josette and Barnabas made a sweet couple, but we knew before we ever saw them together that they were not fated to end up together. Jeremiah was likable enough, but we knew that he, too, had a sharply limited future. But Sarah is a child, a particularly adorable one, and is someone we have come to feel we know through her months as a ghost. When Angelique treats her so cruelly, we cannot imagine ever forgiving her.
And yet, there were times we felt that way about Barnabas, too. Angelique’s insane fixations are remarkably close to those vampire Barnabas exhibited in 1967, so much so that we keep wondering if whatever she does that turns Barnabas into a vampire will also put her personality into his body. We have come to be attached to the vampire; perhaps we will eventually discover it is Angelique we were watching until Vicki came to the past.
That isn’t to deny that the human Barnabas we have seen so far has points of contact with the ghoul from 1967. He was selfish enough to take advantage of a servant girl in Martinique when he didn’t think he could win the love of the grand lady he wanted and to discard her when he learned he could. He is cowardly enough that it never occurred to him to tell Josette that he had a past with Angelique at a time when doing so could have prevented Angelique casting the fatal spells on her and Jeremiah.
Real as these vices are, they are endemic to soap opera characters. Few daytime serials would have any stories to tell if they were about people who had a gift for monogamy, and we are supposed to find ourselves yelling at the screen “Just tell her!” and “Just tell him!” at regular intervals. Even the power differential between Barnabas the scion of the wealthy Collins family and Angelique the servant girl, problematic** as it would be in real life, is less troubling in the soaps, which take place in worlds where heirs and heiresses marry servants and their relatives all the time. Of course, most viewers know that Barnabas is destined to become a vampire, a metaphor for selfishness, and will be inclined to see in his use of Angelique the seeds of his subsequent damnation. And Angelique has enough lines about Barnabas’ selfishness that even viewers who joined the show during the 1795 segment can’t let him off the hook altogether.
Still, there is a great deal of good in the living Barnabas. We see him at Sarah’s bedside, consumed with worry for his beloved little sister. The doctor has been to see Sarah, and he has nothing to offer. Sarah asks to see her governess Vicki, who is in hiding because a visiting witch-hunter named Trask has blamed her for a series of inexplicable misfortunes that have befallen the house since she showed up in #366. It was Vicki’s own odd behavior that first made her a suspect, and Angelique has taken advantage of Trask’s foolishness to fabricate evidence against Vicki. She has gone into hiding, and Barnabas is helping her.
When Sarah keeps asking to see Vicki, Barnabas promises to bring her. Naomi is surprised to learn that Barnabas knows where Vicki is, and is not at all sure Trask isn’t right about her. But when she sees her daughter with Vicki, she is sure that she is innocent.
Vicki was the audience’s main point-of-view character throughout 1966 and well into 1967. Major story developments took place after Vicki found out what was going on. Vicki was the chief protagonist in the most important story of that period, the crisis represented by undead fire witch Laura Murdoch Collins. Vicki took charge of the household, organized a group to fight Laura, and rescued strange and troubled boy David from the flames when Laura tried to burn him alive. That intelligent, forceful character has been fading ever further into memory in recent months, and we haven’t seen a trace of her in the 1795 storyline. Sarah is happy to see Vicki and says she likes the stories she tells, but she is a passive witness to today’s events. She serves chiefly as a prop, used to demonstrate that the human Barnabas, whatever his faults, is capable of heroic action.
Barnabas’ compassion for Sarah and his valiant defense of Vicki do not negate his vices. As the heir to Collinwood, Barnabas can express his self-regard both by gratifying his urge to treat some women badly and by earning admiration for treating other women well. In her low station, the same trait leads Angelique directly to the “Dark Triad” of Narcissism, Manipulativeness, and Psychopathy. As a vampire, Barnabas will exhibit the same three qualities in abundance, but for now, we still have license to hope for better from him.
As it was so much fun to watch Barnabas trying to pass as a modern man that we wanted to like him even after he had been terribly cruel to Maggie, a character we like very much, it was so much fun to watch Angelique twist Trask around her finger that we wanted to like her. Besides, her desire to remake Barnabas as her lover is understandable for those who have been watching the show and wanting him to be something other than a heartless murder machine. So, perhaps we will wind up liking Angelique after all.
Angelique has bewitched indentured servant Ben Stokes (Thayer David) and forced him to act as her assistant. Ben is devoted to Barnabas and miserable that he has been the instrument of so much evil done to him, but has been powerless to resist Angelique’s commands. When he realizes that Angelique is causing Sarah to sicken and perhaps die, he goes to her room and demands that she stop. He threatens to kill her if she does not relent. In response, Angelique causes him to have a heart attack. She lets his heart start pumping again when he promises to be quiet.
This is the second heart attack a character of David’s has had on screen. The first also prevented a servant in this same house from killing a young woman. That came in #126, when crazed handyman Matthew Morgan had been holding Vicki prisoner here and was about to decapitate her. The ghost of Josette led several other supernatural presences who scared Matthew to death before he could complete his fell purpose. Matthew and Ben are both devoted to the Collinses, and both are led astray so that they become parties to terrible crimes. As the benevolent spirit of Josette put a stop to Matthew’s crimes, so the malign Angelique prevents Ben from putting a stop to her own.
Barnabas drops by Angelique’s room to ask if she has seen Sarah’s doll, which she calls Samantha. He tells her that Sarah is very ill and has asked for the doll. It occurs to Angelique that she has some leverage over Barnabas. She says that she can brew a special kind of tea that might cure Sarah’s symptoms. He asks her to do so. She makes him promise to marry her if she does.
Several times, we have seen that Angelique is flying by the seat of her pants. She had no idea of using Sarah’s illness to gain a hold over Barnabas until he chanced to come into her room. Nor is she thinking ahead- as it stands, the witch-hunters have fastened on Vicki as their suspect, and are not thinking of her. If word gets out that she had the power to cure Sarah’s mysterious ailment and exercised it only after extorting Barnabas’ promise of marriage, that would seem to be proof positive that she is a witch.
In her own bedroom, Sarah sips the tea. At the same moment, Angelique, in the servants’ quarters, pulls the pins from the doll. How exactly Angelique got the timing just right isn’t exactly clear, but she must have had a way- she is perfectly confident when she tells the doll that it has served her well.
*Mrs Lentz now, but it’s strange to say “Mrs” when you’re talking about a ten year old.
**I know people don’t really say “problematic” anymore, but it seems to be the right word here.
We open on a new set, the bedroom of heiress Carolyn Collins Stoddard in the great house of Collinwood. Dark Shadows has been in color since #295 in August. Though directors Lela Swift and John Sedwick were both ambitious visual artists, they haven’t been able to do much with color so far. With Carolyn’s bedroom, Swift and the staging team have accomplished one of their first real essays in color. It is composed mostly of shades of yellow, pink, and orange.
The color schemes of the other interiors we’ve seen up to this point run the gamut from sedate to subdued to drab to dank, so we already know we are in a unique space. The only other room in Collinwood that might have matched this one for brightness was the kitchen, but we haven’t seen that since #208.
Carolyn’s young cousin, strange and troubled boy David, lets himself into her room. He touches her, and she awakes with a scream. He explains that he just dropped in to make sure she wasn’t dead. When she turns on the light, the screen is so bright that I reflexively squinted, a reaction I’d never before had to an image on Dark Shadows.
Bright room.
David can’t quite explain why he was afraid Carolyn might be dead, but he does insist that she take an antique toy soldier, saying that she will be safe if she keeps it with her. Carolyn’s mother, matriarch Liz, comes into the room to investigate Carolyn’s scream. Liz wonders what David is doing there. Carolyn hastens to say that he was just making sure she was all right.
David goes, and Carolyn tells Liz she doesn’t think anything can be done for him at home. Liz is reluctant to send him away. Regular viewers will not be surprised by this. We know that Liz took David and his father, her ne’er-do-well brother Roger, into Collinwood at the beginning of the summer of 1966 and summoned her unacknowledged daughter, well-meaning governess Vicki, to come look after David starting with #1 on 27 June 1966, so that her conviction that the family ought to look after him got the whole show started. Nonetheless, Liz is so disturbed by David’s unusual statements and depressive affect that she agrees that he needs residential care.
We cut to the Old House on the estate. Vampire Barnabas Collins is sitting in a basement room where mad scientist Julia Hoffman maintains a laboratory. The room is full of electrical equipment, a bit odd since the Old House has no electricity; the laboratory itself is lit by flaming torches. But if we’ve ever seen a Universal Studios production from the 1930s, we know that where you find a mad scientist, you will find electrical currents, so naturally things start buzzing when Julia flips a switch.
Barnabas confined
Julia is trying to implement a medical cure for Barnabas’ vampirism. In the first shot of this scene, we see a visual metaphor for that project. Barnabas, an uncanny being, is confined to a small space in the middle of an elaborate collection of technology. If Julia succeeds, the supernatural will be vanquished altogether and scientific rationality will fill the whole world. The color scheme emphasizes the contrast between Julia’s optimistic goal and the terrain on which she operates. The walls and floor are dominated by the grays and browns of the basement, but the frames and tubing of her equipment are a bright metallic hue, light plays on the glass components, and the intense greens, reds, and blues of the potions are distributed in a slightly unbalanced, lively pattern. The irregular shapes of the frames and tubing emphasize this pattern, and contrast with the solid gray of the floor and the even grid of the brickwork on the walls.
This image not only represents Julia’s plans, but also one of the major themes the show is exploring at this period. Too many characters have encountered too much evidence of supernatural forces and beings for anyone to simply deny that such things exist. But even those who have been most heavily exposed to them keep reverting to a naturalistic frame of reference. Sure, Julia spends all her time hanging around with a vampire and has encountered a couple of ghosts, but she’s determined to ring all of those phenomena around with scientific explanations and technological interventions until they yield to rational control.
Julia’s project has hit its first major setback, as the latest treatment led Barnabas’ hands to age dramatically. He expresses the fear that time will catch up with him, and his apparent age will soon catch up with his actual age, something like 200 years. Julia’s hope that her experiment will not only free Barnabas of his curse, but found a new kind of medicine that will free everyone else of aging and death, will thus be defeated.
Barnabas gives a remarkable little speech about the situation he finds himself in:
I’ve been granted privileges given to few other men… For most men, time moves slowly, so very slowly. They don’t even realize it. But time has revealed itself to me in a very special way. Time is a rushing, howling wind raging past me, withering me in one relentless blast and then continues on. I have been sitting here passively, submissive to its rage, watching its work. Listen. Time, howling, withering.
Writer Joe Caldwell has a fine sense of what actors can do, and this odd little bit of purple prose is right in Jonathan Frid’s wheelhouse. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but the sound of his voice delivering it is so gorgeous it may as well be Shakespeare. Well, maybe not Shakespeare, but Ben Jonson at least.
It is possible to read this speech as a programmatic statement. Daytime soap operas of the 1960s were famously slow-paced; the old joke was that a viewer saw an episode that ended with a character hearing a telephone ring, missed four months of the show, and tuned back in to see the episode that started with the same character saying “Hello.” Even by the standards of the period, the first months of Dark Shadows were notoriously leisurely, with action often as not playing out in real time. When we are watching the 21 episodes centering on Roger’s attempts to find a fountain pen he misplaced, it is indeed the case that “time moves slowly, so very slowly.” But those days are behind us. The show is whipping through plot points at a pace that many prime time series contemporary with it would have had a hard time matching.
If the speech is programmatic, it is also autobiographical on the part of the screenwriter. A fast pace promises excitement for the viewers, but makes life hard for a writing staff that never numbered more than three. Indeed, this is the last episode Joe Caldwell will write for two and a half years. Perhaps he felt the demands of the new pace as “a relentless blast” withering his talents, and had to bow out.
We return to Carolyn’s room. She is in front of her mirror, contemplating the toy soldier. She hears the strains of “London Bridge” playing on a wooden flute, which she has learned is a sign that the ghost of ten year old Sarah Collins is present. Carolyn grew up in this haunted house, so it may not be entirely surprising that her response is to lean back and enjoy the music. But she sits up when Sarah manifests herself in visible form.
Ghost in the mirror
Sarah speaks, and Carolyn sees her reflected in her mirror. The following scene is so extraordinary I’m going to transcribe all of the dialogue:
Sarah: David must have given you that.
Carolyn: Sarah!
Sarah: He told you my name.
Carolyn: Sarah, how did you get in here?
Sarah: Didn’t David tell you?
Carolyn: Tell me what?
Sarah: All about me.
Carolyn: I’m not sure I understand.
Sarah: I think I’m a ghost. Matter of fact, I’m sure I am.
Giving the facts
This is the first time Sarah has described herself in any terms, certainly the first time she has called herself a ghost. Her coyness about herself had left David confused about what she was; it was not until #325 that he finally concluded that she was a ghost. After that, she became more forthright with him. When he wasn’t sure what she was, she would wait until she was out of his line of sight to appear and disappear. But in #327, she fades away while he’s looking right at her.
Coming out to David not only allowed Sarah to relax around him, but has led her to discard her coyness altogether. She is startlingly blunt with Carolyn as this conversation goes on:
Carolyn: B-but- I don’t believe in-
Sarah: Yes you do. Or I wouldn’t have been able to come here. You’re not afraid of me, are you?
Carolyn: No…
Sarah: If you are, I understand.
This is the first confirmation that Sarah can appear only to those who are prepared to believe in her. It’s true that most of the people who have seen and heard her- David; Maggie Evans, The Nicest Girl in Town; Maggie’s father Sam; Vicki; Barnabas; Julia; Barnabas’ sometime blood thrall Willie; and local physician Dave Woodard- have either had extensive contact with the supernatural or had reasoned their way to the conclusion that she existed. But she also showed herself to Maggie’s nurse at the mental hospital Julia runs, and we don’t know anything about her background or beliefs. And local man Burke Devlin heard Sarah when she and David were talking in #327. While Burke has had plenty of contact with supernatural beings and in the early days of Dark Shadows, when he was fun, was willing to believe in them, he was at that point tearing around bellowing that there were no such things as ghosts. So this is new and unexpected information.
Carolyn’s denial that Sarah frightens her is given in a trembling voice that shows it to be a lie. Still, she isn’t as frightened as she might be. The other day, in #344, Carolyn was in David’s room when Sarah manifested there, not in the visible form of a little girl, but as the sound of “London Bridge” and as information appearing in David’s mind about Burke’s imminent death. Carolyn was terrified of Sarah when she came that way.
Carolyn: Well, what do you want?
Sarah: Don’t send David away.
Carolyn: How do you know about that?
Sarah: I don’t know, I just do.
At this point, we see Carolyn’s fear fading. She is starting to react to Sarah as if she really were a ten year old girl.
Carolyn urging Sarah to be reasonable.
Carolyn: But Sarah, we have to send David away. It’s the only way we can help him.
Sarah: But if you send David away, I won’t have anyone to play with.
Carolyn: Well, maybe it isn’t good for David to play with you.
Sarah: Why do you say that?
Carolyn: Because it leads him into believing all sorts of things that aren’t true.
Sarah: How do you know they’re not true?
Carolyn: Well, they’re just not, they couldn’t be.
Sarah: He wasn’t lying about me, was he?
Carolyn: No.
Sarah: Well.. then maybe David is acting the way he is because no one will believe him.
Carolyn: But… it isn’t possible.
Sarah: People say I’m not possible, but I am. Why doesn’t that make the rest possible?
Carolyn: Sarah, maybe you don’t know the stories David’s been telling!
Sarah: Why do you think that?
Carolyn: Because they’re too fantastic! And besides, they’ve all been proved false.
Sarah: How do you know they’ve been proved false?
Carolyn: Sarah, are you trying to tell me that Barnabas actually slee-
This exchange is the ultimate example of a character accepting the existence of a particular supernatural being and then snapping back into a frame of reference that does not allow for supernatural beings. Carolyn knows that Sarah is a ghost, and starts arguing with her about how fantastic the world is permitted to be.
There comes a knock at the door. Carolyn turns away from Sarah to look at the door, and when she looks back, Sarah has vanished. Regular viewers know that Sarah was Barnabas’ little sister, that she wants to keep him from doing horrible things to people she likes, but that she will not say anything against him. So when Carolyn says Barnabas’ name, we know that Sarah is about to vanish.
Sarah’s part is an outstanding example of writing to an actor’s abilities, even more so than was Barnabas’ speech. Caldwell knew that Jonathan Frid had a flair for making flowery gibberish appealing, because that is what he has been doing the whole time he’s been on Dark Shadows. What Sharon Smyth has been doing well as Sarah is being a cutie pie and creating a vague and mysterious impression. When she has more than a few lines to deliver, things tend to get very wobbly. Today, she has to maintain a commanding tone and an adult demeanor throughout an extended patch of rapid-fire dialogue. Absolutely nothing we have seen on screen would suggest that she could handle that. But she pulls it off, more than competently. There are a few glances at the teleprompter, but at no point does she break out of the patient and authoritative manner she has to adopt. It is an impressive job of acting by any standard.
The person at Carolyn’s door is Liz. Liz is Dark Shadows‘ queen of denial. Viewers who have been with the show from the beginning have seen a few cracks in her facade of disbelief in the supernatural. In #10, she dozed off in the drawing room and started talking in her sleep about ghosts. When Vicki insisted to her in #127 that she had seen a ghost, Liz said she believed her. And in #280 and #281, Liz reluctantly agreed to participate in a séance, and afterward agreed that Vicki had been possessed by a spirit. But even in those moments Liz was fighting to keep the topic of ghosts at bay, and the rest of the time she has presented a blank wall to any attempt to face facts about the strange goings-on. So it is not surprising that Carolyn tells her mother she was talking to herself while tidying up her room.
Having talked Liz into sending David away, she now has to talk her back out of it. She manages to get her to agree to wait a few days. “London Bridge” plays. Carolyn reacts to it, Liz does not.
In his room, a distraught David is looking at a mobile. Its whimsical black and white markings suggest a puzzle and make a stark contrast with the vivid colors around them.*
Puzzling shapes.Back to the wall.
Carolyn comes in. She brings the toy soldier and tells David she doesn’t think she will need it. He insists that she will, but she explains that Sarah visited her and now she believes him and knows how to help him. David is horrified by this. He says that Sarah visited Dr Woodard, that Woodard believed him, and that led to his death. He begs Carolyn not to believe him and claims to have been lying. He sobs and clutches her.
Anguished embrace.
Back in the Old House, Julia prepares to give Barnabas another treatment. He snaps at her. She tells him that whatever happens, she wants him to know that she always wished him well. That prompts him to unload a further stream of sour remarks about her competence and intentions. Julia carries out the treatments, only to find that the aged appearance of Barnabas’ hands has spread to his head.
In his post about this episode on Dark Shadows Every Day, Danny Horn puts it well when he says that “This is just good soap opera construction. People that we care about, facing terrible danger, and desperate to help each other.” He’s referring specifically to the scenes between David and Carolyn and Liz, but it applies to everyone. We care not only about the good people in the great house (well, they’ve been relatively good, lately,) but also about Barnabas and Julia, evil people who are the terrible danger David and Carolyn and Liz are facing, but who make the show fun to watch. We care about Sarah too, and she’s desperately trying to accomplish exactly the result we most want to see, an outcome in which David, Barnabas, and everyone else we enjoy watching stays on the show.
*Evidently this mobile was a commercially produced item. One of the commenters on Danny Horn’s Dark Shadows Every Dayreports having had one like it as a child.
Strange and troubled boy David Collins is sitting on his bed. The ghost of his cousin Sarah is with him, playing “London Bridge” on her flute. She has told him that local physician Dave Woodard is dead, and he is depressed. She explains that she thought she had to tell him.
Sarah says she thinks that Woodard’s death was a terrible one and that it shouldn’t have happened. She denies knowing any more than that, and when David presses her for further information she becomes uncomfortable and vanishes.
David’s aunt, matriarch Liz, comes into his room to break the news to him about Woodard. She is startled to find that he already knows. She is distressed at his attitude of complete resignation. Woodard was the only adult who believed all of the facts about the supernatural menace looming over the great estate of Collinwood and the town of Collinsport that David and Sarah have shared with each other, and when David last saw him Woodard was trying to do something about that menace. David takes Woodard’s death as the end of all hope.
Downstairs, Liz meets her daughter Carolyn and well-meaning governess Vicki. She tells them how sad David is, and Carolyn goes up to see him. She starts talking about imaginary friends, and David asks if she means Sarah. Carolyn says that she doesn’t think Sarah is imaginary, and David replies “You don’t have to pretend. I don’t care.” He isn’t the least bit angry with her- he means exactly what he says when he tells her he doesn’t care how she feels about him.
Viewers who have been with the show from the beginning could see that reaction coming. For the first 24 weeks or so, Carolyn was a flighty heiress, a self-centered young woman who took no interest at all in her little cousin. Since then they have discarded that theme and Carolyn has become a mature and caring person. She and David have had some moments where she has seemed like a big sister. Still, she is still far less involved with him than is Vicki, and David doesn’t have any hopes that even Vicki will listen to him when he tells the truth about the strange goings-on. So when David says “I don’t care,” Carolyn is hit by a freight train that we’ve seen coming for a long time.
This new Carolyn won’t give up on David. She confides that when she was nine years old, she had a friend named Randy, a little boy who always wore a red sweater and who may or may not have existed. Carolyn admits that Randy may have been a ghost, and there is a moment when, as Danny Horn puts it on his Dark Shadows Every Day, “David stands up, and he looks at her, as if they’re really seeing each other for the first time in a long while.” The first time ever, I’d say- David and his father Roger only moved into the house a month or so before the show started, and by that time Carolyn was the character we first saw.
This isn’t the first time the audience has seen this side of Carolyn. In the opening weeks of Dark Shadows, she was one of several characters who had brief conversations with Vicki about the legendary ghosts of Collinwood, and she was the most persistent about laughing those legends off. But before the show had been on the air for five weeks, Carolyn admitted to Vicki that the legends were all true, and that she had tried to downplay them only because she liked Vicki and wanted her to stay.
That development is recapitulated in this scene. Where Vicki had reacted with confusion, telling herself that she ought to be concerned about Carolyn’s mental health but unable to quash a sickly feeling that she might be right, David reacts with wonderment. He is beyond trying to do anything about the horrors that he knows are in progress, let alone appealing to anyone to join him in fighting them, but we can see him absorbing the information that Carolyn is not at all the person she had led him to believe she was.
Once Carolyn stops pretending she does not believe in ghosts, we see why she and the other adults in the family are so insistent about keeping the door shut on the supernatural back-world behind the main action. “London Bridge” starts playing on the soundtrack; Carolyn and David can both hear it. As it goes on, David declares that something terrible is about to happen. It will be an accident- no one will cause it, no one wants it to happen. But it can’t be stopped. Carolyn asks how he knows, and he says he just does.
The little girl we saw in the opening is Sarah, but in this moment we realize she is not the whole of Sarah. The girl is only one manifestation of an unfathomably vast complex of phenomena. The world in which the action appears to be taking place is a tiny, fragile thing by comparison with forces like Sarah. If the characters stray from their little paths of denial and evasion the whole thing may at any moment dissolve altogether, thrusting the back-world into the foreground and leaving them adrift. After a few minutes of David’s soothsaying, Carolyn protests that “None of this is real, it can’t be!” But it’s too late- she knows that it is all too real, and the world of love affairs and hotels and motorcycles and dress shops and restaurants in which she has spent the last 69 weeks trying to find a place is a dream from which she is already starting to awaken.
Meanwhile, Vicki and her depressing fiancé Burke have declined Liz’ offer to live in the west wing of Collinwood when they are married. Liz had hoped to keep Vicki around so that she could help with David. When Burke asks if he should talk to David, Liz tells him not to bother. Carolyn already talked to him, Liz explains, and so far from calming David down she got herself upset too.
That response would suggest that Liz wants to tranquilize David, not to communicate with him. On the heels of the scene between David and Carolyn, it tells us more. Liz has lived in Collinwood longer than anyone, and she has struggled harder than anyone to keep the non-supernatural fore-world in operation. After Carolyn’s experiment in facing facts comes so close to sweeping the “logical explanations” away once and for all, we can see what Liz is trying to protect by keeping David quiet.
Burke is leaving the house, about to go on a business trip to South America, when David emerges from his room and says goodbye. David’s tone makes it clear that it is a final farewell. Burke keeps telling David that he will come back, but David is certain that Burke will die. Burke is shocked by David’s attitude, and says that perhaps they should live in the west wing after all. Vicki is thrilled by the idea.
Burke and Vicki go to a terrace outside the house. There, they hear the wind whistling through the rocks along the shore. On Vicki’s first night in the house, she heard from Liz’ brother Roger the legend of “The Widows’ Wail,” according to which this sound is a warning from the spirits of the widows who haunt the area. In those days, Vicki had little patience for ghost stories, and the “Widows’ Wail” seemed to be the easiest of all the legends to dismiss. But the wind blows every night, and she’s only heard it make that sound on a handful of occasions, usually right before something terrible happens. She’s also seen multiple ghosts, done battle with a humanoid Phoenix, and encountered what anyone with access to old movies would recognize as evidence that a vampire is operating in the vicinity. So she hears the Widows’ Wail the same way regular viewers of the show do, as the sound of the supernatural back-world blasting through and knocking everything else down.
When Vicki pleads with Burke not to go to South America, he replies “Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe all that stuff!” For months now, Burke has been gaslighting Vicki, pretending that she is crazy for believing in supernatural phenomena, including phenomena he himself witnessed and previously acknowledged. But hearing the Widows’ Wail, which was a prominent topic in the early days, and seeing the black and white imagery of the kinescope, we can remember a more appealing version of Burke. Back then, Burke was one of several longtime residents of Collinsport who used the word “ghost” figuratively in conversation with Vicki, each time prompting her to exclaim “Surely you don’t believe in ghosts!?,” to which he would reply that it was entirely possible that there were literal ghosts at Collinwood. For a moment, we see that Burke, and forget the gaslighting abuser. That moment lasts just long enough that we can share David’s sorrow and Vicki’s terror at Burke’s imminent death.
Acilius on Dark Shadows 