Well-meaning governess Vicki is determined to befriend her charge, problem child David Collins. In today’s episode, David throws a violent tantrum. Vicki looks genuinely frightened:
Meanwhile, David’s father, problem adult Roger Collins, has decided to charm Vicki so as to reduce the likelihood that she will testify against him. Roger walks in on David’s tantrum. After scolding the boy and letting him go, he talks sweetly to Vicki. She tells him that she will do anything she can to understand David. He invites her to a lobster dinner. We see David, who has been eavesdropping on his hated father making friends with his hated governess, looking troubled.
David confronts his father about what he heard. Roger responds with the same charm he showed Vicki, acknowledging that he has been difficult to live with, taking the blame for all of it, and promising to be a new man in the future. He agrees with all of David’s baseless accusations against Vicki, and says that the reason he was being nice to her a few minutes before was to disarm her against David. David says that he wants to frame Vicki for some terrible misdeed that will prompt reclusive matriarch Liz to fire her; Roger replies that he doesn’t want to know what David does about that matter. He asks the boy to consider which he wants more- to be rid of him, or rid of Vicki.
These are outstanding scenes. As Vicki and David, Alexandra Moltke Isles and David Henesy both developed acting styles that built strongly on eye contact. Those styles mesh perfectly and produce an electric effect. As Roger, Louis Edmonds does everything well, but is peerless as a charming sophisticate. When Roger’s scene with Vicki begins, we don’t know that he has any especially sinister plans for her, so that scene plays as a pleasant interlude. We do know that Roger loathes David, so when we see him turning on the charm with his son, and especially when we see him agreeing with all sorts of statements from David that he knows to be false, the effect is alarming. By the time he is instructing David to keep him out of the loop when he acts against Vicki, Roger takes on a Satanic quality. His cold way of asking David his final question demonstrates that he knows David hates him and is unmoved by the fact. It’s heartbreaking to see David Henesy’s little face and imagine him as a child whose father shows that ultimate disregard for him, one of the bleakest endings of any episode in the entire series.
Each episode of Dark Shadows begins with a voiceover. In this phase of the show, the voiceovers are all narrated by Alexandra Moltke Isles in character as Victoria Winters, well-meaning governess, and are brief passages of almost purely decorative prose, meant only to set a mood and to vanish from the audience’s memory as soon as the action starts. Art Wallace and Francis Swann, the writers credited for the first 97 episodes, were old pros who had been turning out scripts for decades, and were good at staying out of their own way. That’s why I haven’t yet said anything about any of the opening voiceovers- when Wallace or Swann set out to write something forgettable, they succeeded. By the time I started writing, I had no recollection of them whatever.
Today’s opening voiceover is unusually substantive, so much so that it threatens to leave a trace in the audience’s mind:
My name is Victoria Winters. Once again it is quiet in Collinwood. There is no sound but the ticking of the great clock in the entrance hall. And the lonely footsteps of a woman who hasn’t left its grounds in eighteen years. A woman whose life is limited to musty corridors and the endless beat of a grandfather clock. A beat that seems to ignore the vitality of the world around it.
Vicki names herself, names the estate where she lives, talks about how quiet it is, mentions the clock, tells the audience that the lady of the house is a recluse who hasn’t left home in eighteen years, complains about the air quality in the house, brings the clock up again, and assures us that interesting things are happening everywhere except here. It leaves us wondering why Vicki is so hung up on the clock, why she doesn’t run the vacuum cleaner herself, and why, if the entire world surrounding Collinwood is chock full of vitality, they don’t turn the camera in some other direction.
That’s the sort of thing we’re going to get from Wallace and Swann’s immediate successors, Ron Sproat and Malcolm Marmorstein. In writing their opening voiceovers, Sproat and Marmorstein fell between two stools. They didn’t write brief, deliberately forgettable passages as Wallace and Swann had done; nor did they integrate the opening voiceovers into the action of the show, as would happen in later years when the story is moving very fast and the episodes start with detailed recaps of events so far. Instead, Sproat and Marmorstein saw the voiceovers as vehicles for long passages of flowery, over-developed imagery. Those are certainly no more effective at setting a mood than were Wallace and Swann’s brief remarks, but they do both try the patience of the audience and linger as distractions. That’s one of the things that prejudices viewers against the character of Vicki- since so many episodes from the Sproat/ Marmorstein era start with Vicki rambling on about the weather or making vague remarks about “one small boy” or whatever, the first impression she leaves on viewers who start watching with episodes from that period is that of a prattling fool.
While Wallace and Swann are the only writers whose names have appeared in the credits thus far, it is very possible that others not credited contributed additional bits. I may be wrong, but my nose catches a whiff of Marmorstein in these six strange, distracting sentences. The description of the clock while we’re looking at it, the specified number of years since reclusive matriarch Liz has left the estate, the evocation of the “musty corridors,” the yearning glance at the eventful world outside, are all typical of Marmorstein’s attempts to turn the voiceovers into freestanding dramatic monologues, but without identifiable characters or plot development.
Today’s episode doesn’t shed much light on Vicki’s relationship to the clock or on the standards of cleanliness in the great house of Collinwood. Instead, it’s a kaleidoscope episode, in which each change of scene varies the combination of characters who interact on each set. The action plays out on two sets this time, the foyer/ drawing room representing the downstairs of the great house, and the Blue Whale tavern, representing the low and bustling life of the village. Because the sets typify the “musty corridors” inside the house and the “vitality of the world around it,” the episode is also a diptych of sorts- not Art Wallace’s usual diptych contrasting two pairs of people, but a diptych contrasting two places and the attitudes those places inspire in the people who spend time in them.
The five pieces tumbling about in today’s kaleidoscope are reclusive matriarch Liz, tightly-wound handyman Matthew, flighty heiress Carolyn, hardworking young fisherman Joe, and Maggie, the nicest girl in town. The regular bartender at the Blue Whale gets a fair bit of screen time as well. In the first 63 episodes, he’s answered to names including “Joe,” Andy,” “Mike,” and “Punchy.” Today, Joe the fisherman calls the bartender “Punchy,” a name he called him most recently in episode 56, the same episode where drunken artist Sam calls him “Mike.” Maybe we’re supposed to think that the young men know the bartender as “Punchy,” the older men as “Mike.” Eventually the show settles on the name “Bob” for him, perhaps because the performer’s name was Bob O’Connell. In one episode (#319,) Sam calls him “Ba-ba-roony,” giving rise to the idea that his name is Bob Rooney.
Liz appears only at Collinwood, of course; Joe and the bartender appear only in the bar. The others migrate back and forth between the two sets. We first see Carolyn with Joe in the bar, talking about what a flop their date has been and how pointless their whole relationship is. Maggie interrupts this thrilling conversation, looking for her father, Sam the drunken artist. After puzzling Carolyn and Joe with a number of cryptic remarks, Maggie gives up looking for her father and goes to Collinwood to look for high-born ne’er-do-well Roger. Roger isn’t home, so she winds up talking to Liz. This is the 63rd episode, and it’s the first time we’ve seen these two major characters together.
We first see Matthew in Collinwood, telling Liz how much he wants to help her. He then goes to the bar, where Carolyn and Joe see him. Matthew is looking for dashing action hero Burke Devlin, whom he hates. He implies to Carolyn and Joe that Burke is to blame for the death of beloved local man Bill Malloy. Joe doesn’t like Burke any more than Matthew does. The instant he hears Matthew’s idea, he is all in on it. Carolyn resists the suggestion.
Carolyn goes home to Collinwood. Maggie has explained to Liz that Burke has been saying terrible things about her father, that she can’t find her father to ask him about Burke’s allegations, and that Roger might know something about them. Liz urges Maggie to believe in her father, and to regard Burke as a dangerous, unscrupulous man capable of many dark deeds. Hearing the last part of this, Carolyn asks her mother if she believes that Burke is capable of murder. Yes, Liz says, she does believe that he is capable of that.
Well-meaning governess Vicki and troubled rich boy David Collins are having breakfast in the kitchen at Collinwood. David had heard Vicki and his cousin Carolyn screaming outside the night before, and saw them running back to the house. He keeps badgering Vicki for an explanation of these events, which Vicki refuses to give. In his frustration, he accuses Vicki of trying to replace his mother, and tells her that when she dies, he won’t even go to her funeral.
Later in the episode, after David has overheard Vicki telling hardworking young fisherman Joe that she and Carolyn thought they saw a dead man on the beach, he has another scene with Vicki, this time in his room. She’s trying to teach him about the importance of rivers in the economic development of the USA. He continues to demand information about what happened last night. He resists answering her questions about North America’s rivers, she resists answering his questions about what she saw on the beach.
These scenes are full of repetitious dialogue, conversational dead-ends, and descriptions of the Mississippi-Missouri river system. They could have been quite dull. Thanks to the actors, they are engrossing. As David Collins, child actor David Henesy uses an utterly flat voice and affect, to which Alexandra Moltke Isles as Vicki responds with a nuanced slow burn. When David makes common-sense observations (e.g., “Was something chasing you?… Then why were you running?”) his flatness seems to be a sign of sober intelligence. When he says terrible things (“When you’re dead, I won’t even come to your funeral,”) the same flatness is far more disquieting than a display of anger would be. As Vicki very gradually loses patience with David, her eyes never leave his face for more than a second- we can see her searching for something she can empathize with, some opening hinting at a relatable emotion, and not finding it. The two of them are irresistible together.
Director John Sedwick deserves a lot of credit as well. We see Vicki and David in the kitchen and in David’s room, the two most intimate spaces on the show. In each of these spaces, David is sitting still while Vicki moves about. David’s stillness allows him to keep his voice perfectly level, while Vicki’s movements give her opportunities to show signs of the emotional reaction she’s trying to keep in check as she tries to be nothing but a conscientious teacher. The camera catches David’s crystal ball to emphasize the boy’s baleful preoccupations.
Reclusive matriarch Liz meets with dour handyman Matthew in the drawing room. Liz revisits the question of the dead man on the beach. She says that she doesn’t believe Matthew has ever lied to her; he vows he never will. Liz points out that Matthew chose his words carefully last night when he came back from searching the beach, and asks if there was in fact a dead body there. He admits that there was, that it was the body of missing plant manager Bill Malloy, and that he put Malloy’s body in the water and watched as the tide carried it out to sea Horrified, Liz asks what Matthew was thinking. All he will say is that he thought it was for the best. Liz calls the police.
In his scene with Liz, Matthew mentions that before he came to Collinwood to be the handyman he worked for Liz’ father on the fishing boats. I’ve seen several websites claiming this is an inconsistency, since in episode 6 Matthew had said that he was sweeping the floors in the Collins cannery when he was called up to the big house. Those could both be true, though. He might have been a fisherman who had to leave the boats for some reason and then took the job at the cannery.
Maybe the reason was Matthew’s personality. As Liz told Vicki in episode 13, Matthew is a “strange, violent man”- it’s easy to imagine him alienating the rest of the crew of a small boat to the point where they would refuse to set out with him on board. A history like that would go a long way towards explaining Matthew’s extreme gratitude to Liz for giving him a job, especially a job where he’s alone almost all the time.
In yesterday’s episode, Vicki the governess had come downstairs with a sketch of the great house of Collinwood that her charge David made. She showed the sketch to David’s father, Roger. Vicki tells Roger that she had taken the sketch from David’s room without David’s knowledge. Vicki spent the third week of the show trying to make it clear to David that by taking a letter from her room without her permission, he was stealing from her. Viewers who remember those episodes can’t help but wonder why Vicki is being so hypocritical.
Today, Vicki returns the drawing to David. He is surprised that she took the drawing, but pleased when she tells him how good she thinks it is. He’s starting to warm up to her, until she tells him she showed the drawing to Roger and that Roger liked it. At that reference to his hated father, David tears the drawing to pieces. David then brings up her lectures about his taking the letter and tells her she has one standard for children and another for grownups. She apologizes and agrees that she ought not to have touched the drawing. He refuses her apology and tells her he hates her. It goes on like that for a moment, until David’s aunt Liz walks in. At first Vicki tells Liz that what she’s hearing is an argument about the American Revolution, but she then says that David “had every right to be angry” because she took a drawing of his without his permission. David is involved with something else at that moment, but he does glance back at Vicki when she says “he had every right to be angry.”
Later in the series, Vicki will seem to lose quite a few IQ points. While it was foolish of her to take the drawing from David’s room without his permission and almost as foolish to tell him that Roger liked it, I don’t think this is quite a Dumb Vicki moment yet. Even the smartest adults do occasionally forget to respect children’s rights to privacy and to property, and it isn’t easy for anyone to really absorb the fact that a ten year old boy hates his father as intensely as David hates Roger. The most important thing about the scene is that Vicki admits to David that she’s wrong, apologizes to him, and tells Liz that David was in the right. The growth of a friendship between Vicki and David is going to be the most successful story-line of the first 42 weeks, and we can see the seeds of it right here.
Liz has come to David’s room to deliver a package. The package is a gift with a bow on it, brought by a messenger from the village and addressed to David. It’s a crystal ball, sent by David’s idol Burke Devlin. David loves it. Liz points out that Burke is the Collins family’s arch-nemesis, and says that it would be a good idea to send the present back. David pleads to be allowed to keep it, and she relents.
The crystal ball allows David to make all sorts of cryptic pronouncements, and gives the cameramen opportunities to take some ambitious shots. This still is featured on just about every webpage anyone has ever posted about the episode:
In a couple of years, we will see similar images, some of them giving great prominence to reflections of characters who aren’t supposed to cast reflections. For now, it is so unlike any other image in the show that I think we have to regard it as a message to the viewer. Just as David was the first character to look directly into the camera- he did it twice, in episodes 17 and 23, and no other character would do so until Sam did it day before yesterday, in #46- so he is the first one to look into a glass that will present us with a distorted image of his eye. The show seems to be laboring to get us to think about David’s viewpoint, about David as an observer.
The other plot also comes back to David as observer. Joe comes to the house and tells Liz that Bill Malloy didn’t come to work and isn’t at home. That gets everyone worried about Bill. Vicki tells Liz that Bill came to the house the night before, revealing to Liz that Roger lied to her. That gets Liz upset with Roger. David ties this together when he tells Vicki that he looked into the crystal ball and saw that Bill is dead, that his death was violent, and that Roger is responsible.
David is absent from the show for long stretches- today is the first we’ve seen him since #36. So it’s easy to regard him as a secondary character. But, we followed Vicki to Collinwood, and she came there because she had been hired to be David’s governess. The name “Collins” is something everyone on the show regards as terribly important, and David is the only candidate to carry that name into the next generation. They build a lot of story points around Burke, and at times Burke seems to be David’s fantasy come to life. David’s actions precipitated the saga of the bleeder valve, which was after all the first story-line on the show to be resolved. And David will be the fulcrum on which several story arcs will turn in the years to come. So perhaps we should see him as the central figure of the whole series.
Bill Malloy’s investigation into the manslaughter case that sent Burke Devlin to prison ten years ago is coming to a head. Bill tells Burke, Sam Evans and Roger Collins to meet him to discuss the case in Roger’s office at 11 PM. When Bill leaves the Evans cottage, Sam mutters something about stopping him and looks directly into the camera.
Roger is no happier at the idea of the meeting. Louis Edmonds’ performance ever so subtly hints at Roger’s reluctance to attend:
Roger gives a speech to Vicki about how David is better off than he was at nine, since he already knows that the world is a horrible place. The speech is vague, rambling, and high-flown. That’s suitable for the occasion, since Vicki isn’t supposed to know what the hell he’s talking about, but Louis Edmonds struggles with it. In a future period such speeches will become a hallmark of the show. Malcolm Marmorstein is credited as the writer of 82 episodes in all, from 115 (broadcast 2 December 1966) to 309 (broadcast 31 August 1967,) and often as not speeches just like that crop up in them. Marmorstein’s flowery gibberish will defeat actor after actor, until Jonathan Frid joins the cast as Barnabas Collins. In Frid’s voice, the speeches sound so gorgeous you barely notice that they don’t make a lick of sense. After a while, Marmorstein stops giving them to other actors, and they become the way Barnabas talks. I wonder if Marmorstein did some uncredited work on this episode. Art Wallace, sole credited writer of episodes 1-40, is listed on screen again as the author of this teleplay, but at many points it sounds more like Marmorstein than it does like Wallace.
This one also has a key moment in one of the aspects of the show that most saddens me, the decline and fall of Vicki. In the drawing room, Roger is in a panic about Bill’s investigation. Vicki sees this and asks if the investigation has something to do with her quest to learn her origins. Roger laughs in her face. Of course it doesn’t have anything to do with that story-line- nothing happening on the show does. As long as she’s chained to that rotting corpse of a narrative element, Vicki is going to be of limited relevance.
Bill goes to the restaurant and asks Maggie a bunch of questions about Sam. As he is getting ready to leave, Vicki comes in and Maggie asks her questions about Collinwood. When Vicki leaves, Sam comes in.
Joe goes to the Blue Whale and finds Bill day-drinking. As Joe is getting ready to leave, Sam comes in and he and Bill have a conversation about what Sam told Bill when he was about to pass out drunk. Joe then goes to Collinwood and talks to Vicki about Carolyn.
Vicki’s scenes are, strictly speaking, filler. Alexandra Moltke Isles seems to have known that her character was stuck in a dead end. She plays Vicki very brightly, with maximum excitement, as if she doesn’t get out much and is thrilled that people are paying attention to her. When Joe leaves, she stands in the foyer staring off into space, looking hopeless:
On the one hand, that’s a sign of bad things to come for Vicki. Her great story-line, her winning David’s friendship, is still to come, but once that is complete her character will go completely to waste.
On the other hand, Mrs Isles’ performance in this episode is the first example of a resource they will draw on to introduce all sorts of alarming characters into the cast. That resource is the keen loneliness of the residents of Collinwood. Several times people will turn up whom the Collinses ought by all rights to throw out on the street immediately, most notably a certain cousin from England who will present himself at the house next spring. But they are isolated in their big dark house, battered by hostility, stung by betrayal, and desperate to find someone they can trust.
Three people expressed surprise in episode 40 that Roger Collins wasn’t at his office. He still isn’t there today, and three more people are surprised. He finally decides to go in when Liz presents him with the alternative of looking for Carolyn.
Bill Malloy isn’t at work either, hasn’t been all day. He and Roger have been taking turns inviting themselves into Sam Evans’ house. Sam is also not working, and in fact takes time out of his busy schedule of downing one glass of whiskey after another to destroy the only thing we’ve seen him make as part of a paying job, a sketch of Burke. Maggie pieces the sketch back together- she’s also at home when she’s supposed to be working.
Telephones are unusually dynamic in this episode. Typically we see only one end of a phone call on Dark Shadows. This time, we cut back and forth between both ends of three telephone conversations this time. In the teaser Roger is browbeating Sam; Sam sets the phone down and walks off. While he gets another drink, the receiver is in the foreground and we hear Roger’s voice at the same volume as we did when Sam was listening. Sam comes back, returns the receiver to its cradle, and goes to sit down while it rings.
The bit when we see the phone and hear Roger’s voice, though Sam isn’t looking at the phone and can’t hear it, establishes the telephone as a character with its own relationship to the audience, independent of anyone who may or may not be paying attention to it. It’s a neat moment:
Liz calls the office and talks to Joe. Joe tells her Bill hasn’t been in all day. The stress in his voice, the papers piled on his desk, and the tight grip he has on the telephone receiver all make it credible that he’s the only person in town who showed up for work today:
Liz mainly wants to talk to Joe about Carolyn. Joe tells her he hasn’t talked to Carolyn in some time, and that he has no idea what if anything she is thinking about their relationship. While he breaks this news to Liz, we see him continue working, then cut back to the look of distress on Liz’ face.
Maggie calls Collinwood. Vicki answers and is excited to talk to Maggie. I guess the show is telling us they’re friends now. Maggie asks to talk to Roger. Vicki says Roger is probably in the office at this time of day, Maggie somehow knows he isn’t, Vicki remarks that he isn’t in the habit of confiding in her. Roger overhears this and asks “Is there any reason why I should confide in you?” When Vicki holds the receiver out to him and says Maggie Evans is on the line, he takes it and hangs up without so much as putting the receiver to his ear. Vicki and Roger then have one of their little quarrels.
That’s the only thing Vicki does in the episode. Her character is heading into a danger zone. Through the first eight weeks, she was on all the time. She was our representative, the outsider who knew nothing about the other characters or the town they live in, and to whom everything had to be explained. Now she knows as much about the rest of the characters as they know about each other, and we know as much as we want to learn by hearing explanations.
The major characters all have their secrets, but the only two who know each other’s secret are Roger and Sam. Vicki isn’t any likelier than anyone else to uncover that one. She has no secrets of her own, and her original story-line- her quest to discover her origins- is dead in the water. What’s more, Vicki is no good at lying. Soap operas are mostly conversation, and the big events on them are lies and the exposure of lies. The only time Vicki has tried to lie to anyone- in episode 13, when she told Matthew that Liz knew she was in his cottage- she was immediately found out, with disastrous consequences. If she’s going to stay relevant to the show, something is going to have to change, and fast. It’s fun to watch Alexandra Moltke Isles bicker with Louis Edmonds, but the characters they play need something meatier to bicker about.
This is the first episode credited to writer Francis Swann, indeed the first episode credited to anyone other than Art Wallace. Swann’s teleplay finds humor in the idea that so many people have taken the day off. Each time another character remarks on a case of absenteeism it gets that much closer to raising a chuckle. And Roger’s line that looking for Carolyn would require him to “neglect my vital tasks at the office… Dear me, no” is genuinely funny, especially as Louis Edmonds delivers it. The telephone scenes are also an innovation, and promise a new source of visual activity. Those favorable omens are offset by Vicki’s scene and its suggestion that her character is about to be allowed to wither on the vine.
A couple of the blogs I read when I prepare my comments made remarks about this episode with which I disagree. John Scoleri of Dark Shadows Before I Die says this of the quarrel between Sam and Maggie:
I know Sam gets frustrated with Maggie, but I’m beginning to wonder about their relationship. If he’s that close to hitting Maggie when he gets drunk, there’s no way I’m believing he hasn’t done that before.
It doesn’t look to me like Sam has hit Maggie. She’s inches from his face when he is at his angriest, yet she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t slump down, doesn’t show any sign of withdrawal or fear or anger or panic or sullenness or bewilderment or any other possible response to physical abuse.
There hasn’t been much happening on DARK SHADOWS in the last few weeks, but that doesn’t mean the show hasn’t been moving forward. There’s been a growing sense of doom throughout the show, and it’s obvious that someone is going to die. In this episode Sam rips up his portrait sketch of Burke Devlin, he and Roger lob threats at each other, Liz begins to draw Joe’s attention to his girlfriend’s romantic intentions on the family rival, and Victoria has been pushed around by just about everyone in the cast. In theory, any one of them is eligible for a ride in the bone wagon, but the show has been implying that Devlin is headed for a fall. It’s interesting that the show decides to go in another direction: I don’t know when Bill Malloy checks in at Eagle Hill Cemetery, but it’s probably sooner rather than later.
While it is true that “in theory, any one of them is eligible for a ride in the bone wagon,” I do think there’s a clear front-runner to be the first Dark Shadows character to be killed. It’s Sam who is obsessed with the fear of death, Sam whom Roger has threatened, Sam who left a mysterious sealed envelope to be opened in the event “something happens.” And, from an out-of-universe perspective, it’s Sam who has a daughter played by an appealing actress who needs a story-line. Maggie seeking revenge for the killing of her father would be just the plot to elevate Kathryn Leigh Scott from the bottom of the second string to the starting lineup where she so obviously belongs.
No other character has anyone so well-positioned to play avenger if they’re killed. The only keen attachment Bill Malloy has shown is his devotion to Liz, and in her scene with Matthew in episode 38 Liz demonstrated that she sees devotion from people outside the family as a tool to use when time comes to protect the good name of those inside it. So if she suspects Roger killed Bill, she won’t become Bill’s avenger- if she could order Matthew to throw away his own good name to cover up the truth about David, we can hardly expect her to expose Roger to redress Bill’s grievance against him. Indeed, when Bill is murdered, they will introduce an entirely new character to seek revenge for him.
Vicki is an orphan, who tells us in today’s opening narration that before she arrived at Collinwood she had never known a home. No one is likely to avenge her, and besides, she still does the opening narration for every episode- she’s supposed to be important, even if the writers can’t quite figure out what to do with her. Burke is supposed to be rich and powerful. Presumably he has friends, but we haven’t seen any of them. Joe is Mr Nice Guy and he’s mentioned a friend or two, but again, we haven’t seen them. The series story bible calls for Roger to die when Burke finally gets his revenge, but every time Louis Edmonds’ performance is the most interesting thing in an episode it becomes so much the less likely that they will ever get around to playing that scene. So the smart money, at this point, would be on Sam to be the victim in the first Dark Shadows murder. So much so, indeed, that it might not be surprising enough if it does happen- they may think they have to kill someone else to keep the audience engaged.
David Ford joins the cast as Sam Evans, replacing the woeful Mark Allen. Ford was always one of my favorites. He was one of the reasons I started watching the show when it was on the Sci-Fi channel in the 90s- I remembered him from one of my favorite movies, the musical 1776, where he plays John Hancock.
Marc Masse made a point in his Dark Shadows from the Beginning that I hadn’t thought of before. I’d always thought of Thayer David as the founder of the Dark Shadows house style of acting (“Go back to your grave!”) That isn’t wrong, as we will see when Thayer David joins the cast next week. But David Ford made a much bigger contribution than I realized. Several members of the cast, especially Louis Edmonds and Nancy Barrett,* tend to play their roles in a big, stagy manner, but Ford represents a step beyond them.
Masse writes:
To this point Dark Shadows has been written, directed, and acted solely as a vehicle for television.
Here in episode 35, the style of acting on Dark Shadows takes a theatrical turn with the debut of David Ford, who, with one grand and sweeping wave of the arm and eloquent turn of phrase, will single-handedly transform the acting approach from that of a standard television show to that of a teleplay:
“A façade, my dear boy!”
You have to wonder if that line was an ad lib; it fit in perfectly with the gesture, and thus far Art Wallace has never written with such a fanciful flourish.
Masse also gives some very interesting information about what Ford was doing when he landed the role of Sam Evans, information that points towards an approach to casting that will become a marked feature of the show in the years ahead:
In the year preceding Dark Shadows, Ford was performing on the Hartford Stage in a successful production of the Tennessee Williams play Cat on a Hot Tin Roof in the role of Big Daddy. That’s why when he first appears on Dark Shadows he has that half a beard type style, having fashioned his performance of Big Daddy after the one made famous in the 1958 motion picture adaptation, especially the way he scrunches up his eyes for the effect of dramatic intensity, giving it his best Burl Ives.
There is indeed a good deal of Burl Ives in today’s iteration of Sam, enough that we can assume that Ford was hired in part as a Burl Ives imitator. In future years, we’ll see Jonathan Frid, who looks like Bela Lugosi and walks and talks like Boris Karloff, playing a character who is a mashup of Lugosi’s Dracula and Karloff’s Imhotep.** And Jerry Lacy, who was most famous for his Humphrey Bogart imitation, and whose first role on the show was as a Bogart-inflected lawyer. And David Selby, who, if you listen to him with your eyes closed, you’d swear was Joseph Cotten. And Roger Davis, who Joan Bennett famously described as show business’ answer to the question “What would Henry Fonda be like if he had had no talent?” Ford is the first of that company of mimics, and among the best.
This is also the first episode where Carolyn and David have a scene together, rather odd considering we’ve had 34 episodes mostly set in the house where they are two of the five residents. Carolyn can’t stand the boy to start with, and in this one she’s just found out he tried to murder his father, her beloved uncle Roger. Besides, she’s in a bad mood because Joe called her up and told her he found Vicki in Burke’s hotel room. So they have a shoving match, she tells him he’s a monster, etc. Nancy Barrett and David Henesy ham these scenes up so grandly that it’s hard to imagine why they haven’t been on camera together before, it’s tremendous fun.
This is a bad episode for Alexandra Moltke Isles. Carolyn is nasty to Vicki about Burke, then apologizes and gets mad at herself, all while Vicki stands perfectly still with a smile plastered on her face. Vicki’s own lines are patronizing and inappropriate, starting with “Carolyn, you idiot” and going downhill from there. When Carolyn makes the painful admission that she has a tendency to grab for everything, Vicki delivers a smugly sanctimonious “That’s a good way to end up with nothing.” At the end of the episode, Vicki has a brief confrontation with David, which Mrs Isles plays well enough, but there isn’t much to it.
I think Mrs Isles’ technique was to start with the emotions the character was supposed to be feeling and to project those through whatever dialogue she is given. That’s served her well so far. Dark Shadows was her first professional acting job, and she fits right in with old pros like Joan Bennett and Broadway up-and-comers like Mitch Ryan. But she’s just awful in these scenes. My guess is that she couldn’t figure out what Vicki was feeling or thinking, since no one would do or say the things she does or says in today’s show, and so she just tried to stay out of Nancy Barrett’s way. Or maybe she read the script, thought Vicki was being an ass, and decided to play the character in the most asinine way possible. Either way, I winced to see it.
*Both natives of Louisiana. I doubt that means anything, but as the series goes on and gradually loses all interest in creating an illusion of being Down East someplace near Bar Harbor, I get more and more interested in the geographical origins of the actors. I’ll try to confine that topic to footnotes for the next three years, but when we hear David Selby’s voice we’re going to talk about the idea of a New England Brahmin with a West Virginia accent.
**Imhotep is the title character from The Mummy. Originally I was going to say that Frid moves and sounds “like Boris Karloff’s Mummy,” but that rather overstates the feminine side of his role.
Everyone who is going to know that David tried to kill his father now knows it, and Liz has decreed that the incident will have no consequences. So we’re back to the basic story elements laid out in week one, as modified in subsequent episodes to make sure everyone had plenty of people to talk to.
Vicki is at the Blue Whale. Harvey Keitel is gone, but Burke is still there, so she sits with him. He asks her why she joined him. She looks off into space and says “Inches, feet, miles.” He tells her she reminds him of a drink that fizzes and foams, but he isn’t sure what kind. He asks what she’d like to have for dinner. She replies “I’d rather go to your hotel room.” He flashes the same dopey grin any fellow would in this situation, and says “You amaze me, Miss Winters.”
Vicki is supposed to be a street kid from NYC, so we can assume she knows how to go about finding inches when she wants them, and that she’s no stranger to feet, either. Miles may be in short supply in the city, but she’s willing to learn. It turns out that all she wants from Burke is a look at the report his private investigator prepared about her. In the hotel room, she tells him what the audience knows about her origins and about Liz’s refusal to give a straight answer to the question of why she hired her. She looks through the report, and says it doesn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. He orders two steak dinners from the hotel restaurant.
A knock comes on the door. It isn’t room service; it’s Joe, come to repay Burke for settling his bar tab. Joe is about to tell Burke he still doesn’t like him, when Vicki comes out of the bathroom. Joe excuses himself, startled to see her. Vicki goes a moment later, leaving Burke alone, waiting for two steak dinners.
I summed up my reaction to this episode in a comment on John and Christine Scoleri’s Dark Shadows Before I Die:
“Miss Winters, you amaze me.” Me too! Any woman as young and attractive as Vicki in a town as small and gossipy as Collinsport would be the scandal of the month if she went unchaperoned to a bachelor’s hotel room. When the woman lives with and works for the richest family in town and the bachelor is their sworn enemy, “indiscreet” isn’t any fraction of the word needed to describe her boldness.
Burke has time and again talked about how gossipy Collinsport is. For example, in episode 27, he seemed almost unhinged as he told his associate Bronson about how deeply secretive his investigations of the Collins family holdings would have to be, since anything that happens in or near the town of Collinsport is immediately known to everyone there. So we have to assume that he plans to get everyone talking about his evening with Vicki.
At this point in the show, we usually have to guess what Burke’s plans are, and even when they are revealed we can’t decide whether they are good or evil. In the case of his attempt to get rumors going about himself and Vicki, I think it’s a little more straightforward. He keeps telling her she should get away from the Collinses and leave town. If the Collinses think she’s involved with Burke, Vicki is very likely to find herself on a train back to New York. Maybe not to the Hammond Foundling Home- Burke might have a little apartment in the East Village where Vicki can stay until she finds something…
At Collinwood, Liz tells Carolyn that David won’t be going away just because he tried to murder his father. “Things will go on just as before.” On the other hand, Carolyn should marry Joe and leave the house, because “You’re the only one of us who can have a sane, happy life.” I suppose we’ve all seen that in real life, someone swinging wildly between deep denial and exaggerated despair. Two forms of learned helplessness, I guess.
At the Blue Whale, Joe is getting well and truly sloshed. Burke joins him at his table, interrupting a conversation between Joe and his whiskey glass. Joe tells Burke that he doesn’t like him, expresses his frustration with Carolyn’s refusal to get married, then goes to Collinwood, roaring drunk, and tells Carolyn, Liz, and Vicki what he thinks of them.
One thing Joe thinks is that Carolyn is doomed to be a spinster. Considering that she’s supposed to be about seventeen, that does call to mind Barnabas’ line to Carolyn in the 2012 Dark Shadows movie, “Fifteen? And no husband?”
Marc Masse brings this point out well on his Dark Shadows from the Beginning, and argues that the depiction of Carolyn may be one of the things that sunk the show with young viewers between the end of the first month and the introduction of the vampire:
You have to wonder what kind of impression the character of Carolyn Stoddard would have made to young viewers in 1966. Here she is having grown up in a mansion with forty rooms and her only option in life is to be married off before her eighteenth birthday to a local fisherman, or else face a life of lonely spinsterhood. In that respect, Dark Shadows seems to belong to the sensibilities of previous decades.
This paragraph is part of an in-depth discussion of Dark Shadows’ place on ABC’s schedule, its ratings, the show that preceded it in its time-slot, and Art Wallace’s rather antiquated view of the world. It’s all very informative, highly recommended.
When Joe passes out on the couch, Vicki goes to town. She goes to the Blue Whale, where Burke asks if she’s looking for someone. “I just found him,” she replies. Obviously, she’s talking about Harvey Keitel, who is dancing a few feet away from her.
That Harvey Keitel was once an extra on Dark Shadows is pretty interesting. If he took that job, clearly he would have taken a speaking part. I gave some thought to parts I wish he had taken in comments on Danny Horn’s Dark Shadows Every Day four times: here (on episode 470,)here (on episode 769,) here (on episode 1057,) and here (on episode 1137.)
Dark Shadows Commentary 