My Dark Shadows Top Ten

I'm feeling particularly list-y these days, as I make my way through the 1897 storyline.  I've been quite a busy little Dark Shadows bee this summer, having buzzed right through 1795 and 1968, though, to be fair, I did a fair amount of fast-forwarding ... and I skipped the Quentin's Ghost story outright.  In my own defense, I've seen every episode in those storylines at least once or twice ... or maybe more.  Therefore,  I reserve the right to skip through the Roger Davis-related stuff, or anytime Adam lumbers across the screen.

But I've been thinking recently about my absolute favorite episodes, the ones I never grow tired of in (in most cases) their entirety.  Many of these are series milestones; many of them feature Angelique, because she's my favorite character and the one I find most interesting; some of them remind me nostalgically of my boyhood, when I was first discovering Dark Shadows. At any rate, if I were to issue my own Dark Shadows Fan Favorites DVDs, a la MPI, this is what I would include.

In the future, I think I'll construct a few more top tens -- with 1,125 episodes to choose from, it isn't like there's not a world of material.

And now, on with the show ...

10.

#155.  Elizabeth’s confrontation with Laura puts the matriarch of Collinsport in a coma.

In this, Dark Shadows' first foray into a story about the supernatural, the series proves how inventive it can be.  When have you ever seen, before or since, a story about a phoenix-creature like Laura Collins?  In this episode, Diana Millay demonstrates how formidable she can be as she comes up against Joan Bennett's equally formidable Elizabeth Collins Stoddard.  This early on in the series, before all the witches and werewolves and Leviathans begin prowling about the estate, part of the charm of an episode like this is how restrained everything is, especially when viewed in hindsight.  We don't need kinescope ghosts or fervent pleas to "the great god Ra":  Laura calmly dropping a log onto the fire, beginning to wipe her hands, pausing mid-wipe as the power begins to overtake her, then staring intently into the flames is enough to convince us that she means business.  And if that isn't enough, observe that moment when Millay icily delivers the line, "If I decide to take David, no power on earth will stop me."  There's no doubt in our minds that she means it.  As we'll see during the initial Barnabas storyline, the black and white episodes contribute mightily to the overall eerie feeling of the storyline, reminiscent of the old Universal monster movies.  Far less campy.

 9.

#1.  Victoria Winters arrives at Collinwood.  Hijinks ensue.

I include this episode on my list of favorites mostly because I'm a sucker for a good pilot.  Plus I had never seen it all the way through until I received the first set of DVDs in "The Beginning" as a Christmas gift a few years ago.  As the various versions of Dark Shadows have usually understood (including the seldom-seen 2004 unsold WB pilot and the 2012 film), there's something magical about Victoria Winters arriving in Collinsport on that train.  Even though she'll barely make it half-way through the entire series, at least for these first few hundred episodes Vicki is the eyes, ears, and conscience of the audience, and will be until the end of the 1795 storyline.  Here, in that very first shot of Vicki gazing out the train window, Alexandra Moltke shows us Vicki's curiosity, her tenacity, and, dare I say it?  her spunk, especially when confronted with the less-than-appealing, fog-replete town of Collinsport, not-as-friendly-as-she-will-eventually-deevolve-to-be hashslinger Maggie Evans, and Vicki's spooky looking host/boss, who greets the nascent governess in a low-cut velvet evening gown and sparkly costume jewelry.  Though not much actually happens in this episode, it doesn't need to.  It's all about set-up and atmosphere, and Episode 1 delivers in spades.  Again, the gothic atmosphere -- particularly in the scenes with Roger and Elizabeth -- is heightened by the black and white photography.  And black against the already blackened sky, Collinwood looks truly menacing.

 8.

 

#523.  While on a hunt for Cassandra, Nicholas Blair summons the ghost of Reverend Trask.

Good old Humbert Allen Astredo.  He absolutely enlivens every episode in which he appears; indeed, when I'm at my most annoyed with the 1968 storyline, particularly with anything related to Adam and his mate, an appearance by Nicholas Blair usually pauses my finger just above the fast-forward button. During his initial few episodes, Nicholas' quest to restore "my Cassandra" to life proves to be an interesting twist to the storyline that was just beginning to falter.  It has the added bonus of offsetting Angelique as the story's main villain (having herself offset Barnabas as bad guy deluxe after Vicki's return from the past) by providing her a wickedly appealing antagonist to humanize her.  In this episode, Nicholas raises the Reverend Trask (1795 vintage) from the dead, hoping to gain information about how and where he exorcised Angelique.  Astredo relishes each devilish line, from the amusing -- "You were a blind, overzealous fanatic, a bigot and a fraud, intolerant, cruel and unjust.  A man after my own heart" -- to the satanic:  "I will sentence you to walk the earth in an agony of loneliness for the rest of time!"  This episode also continues to promote the intriguing idea that witches and warlocks are as susceptible as vampires to the power of a wielded crucifix:  when Trask shoves a cross in his face, Nicholas is unable to look at it; indeed, he is forced to shield his eyes with his hands, cowering in terror and disgust (Cassandra reacted in a similar fashion a few episodes earlier).  Perhaps if Barnabas had been made aware of his nemesis' phobia of Christian artifacts, he could have witchproofed the house and saved himself a lot of trouble.

 7.

#944.  Chris-the-werewolf tries (and fails) to eat a de-werewolfifying magic flower.  Angelique harangues Barnabas.

 There isn't anything particularly special or earthshattering about this episode -- the plot doesn't move forward significantly, the relationships of the central characters don't suffer any lasting changes -- and, in fact, it exists smack dab in the middle of one of Dark Shadows' most reviled and divisive storylines (and one of my personal favorites, incidentally).  I always enjoy this episode in particular, however, because of how sublimely ridiculous it is, and how it showcases that same sublimity now inherent in Dark Shadows which has, at this point, become a silly Monster Mash.  Glorious, I say.  This episode alone features the leader of the Leviathans cowering in fear from the howls of a werewolf, unable to eat the "moon poppy" that would have saved him a few shirts and pants every month, while a former vampire is browbeaten by a former witch, as local crazy lady Sabrina Stuart, replete with shaggy white fright wig, weeps hysterically when she isn't trying to seduce her lycanthropic former fiance.  Good gothic stuff.  The moon poppy is hilarious, Lisa Richards chews the scenery with ghastly abandon, and Angelique looks pretty classy in her 20th century black duds and chic blonde braid hanging down the middle of her back. 

6.

#461.  Vicki returns to the present from her gallivanting about the 18^th century.

All good things must come to an end, and so it is with the 1795 storyline, my favorite of them all.  Every loose end in the story is wrapped up satisfactorily (and sensibly), an element that will be hard to come by in the future.  Part of what makes this episode jarring in the most delicious way is how suddenly we see our favorite 20th century characters back at that seance table just as we left them (more or less) after five months in 1795:  Julia with her dreadful wig, Carolyn's gravity-defying flip, Elizabeth's dayglo yellow, hoop-necked robe, and Barnabas, menacing bad guy once again, plastered bangs and guyliner intact.  (And interesting fun fact:  Phyllis Wicke, besides being played by another actress than the last time we saw her, is also wearing Angelique's infamous "heart of fire, heart of ice" orange dress; although technically we saw Phyllis wearing it first.)  It is rather disappointing that Vicki doesn't remember much about her sojourn to the 18th century, and even harder to swallow that she never puts the pieces together to figure out that there might be something not quite right about dear Cousin Barnabas.  

 5.

#350.  Carolyn unwittingly offers Old Barnabas a cure for his skin condition.

The "Aging of Barnabas" sequence resonates with audiences so much that it has been recreated two times following its initial appearance in the original series.  Both the 1970 feature film, House of Dark Shadows, and the 1991 NBC revival series showcased Barnabas' aging into a "two hundred year old man" and his attack on a young ingenue (in the original, curious cousin Carolyn; in HODS, Maggie Evans; and in the revival, Carolyn again, but this time seemingly more horny, less curious) in order to restore his youth.  The theatrical nature of the original series has always been its primary appeal for me; every episode feels like a play filmed live, which is why it's easy for me to brush off the series' celebrated flubs.  The original "Aging of Barnabas" sequence is Dark Shadows at its most theatrical, featuring phenomenal, incredibly realistic old age makeup for Jonathan Frid by Dick Smith (who would recreate the look for HODS and Little Big Man with Dustin Hoffman).  It is a testament to the actors and technicians of Dark Shadows, which was never offered much in the way of a budget, that these four or five episodes work as well as they do.  It's also unnerving to see pretty Nancy Barrett chomped on by Barnabas, here at his most threatening.  (I defy anyone to label DS as "camp" following the denouement of this episode, where Frid growls, "I would never do anything to hurt my own flesh and blood!" amidst Nancy Barrett's drilling screams of terror just before he plunges his fangs into her throat.)  Following his kidnapping of Maggie Evans, Barnabas hadn't fanged anyone on camera, and certainly not a series regular, a core member of the Collins family like Carolyn.  How shocking it must have been for audiences at the time to see Carolyn fall under the fang, as it were; even the voiceover two episodes later would mark Carolyn as no longer being "one of us."  Was Carolyn doomed to become a vampire eventually?  Audiences would just have to tune in again to find out, same bat time, same bat channel!  Oh, wait ... different show ...

 4.

#516.  Cassandra tortures Elizabeth but ends up sparking the ghost of Trask.  Or he sparks her.

Ah, Cassandra -- my very favorite of all of Angelique's incarnations.  There's just something about blonde actresses playing naughty magical characters in a dark wig that tickles me, I guess.  And true, Cassandra takes a bit to evolve, stylistically speaking, but even as the size of her hair fluctuates from episode to episode and she is forced to wear ridiculous butterfly-decorated peignoirs, Lara Parker's performance as Cassandra Blair Collins, wife to dullard Roger, routinely sparkles with evil little gems. This episode is my favorite of all the Cassandra episodes, mostly because it allows Lara Parker to showcase how unremittingly evil Angelique can be.  Parker has spoken repeatedly about how much she wanted Angelique to be "the heroine," and how Frid urged her to be "the heavy," to "think vicious."  This is around the time in the series when she begins to trust his advice, which is why this episode still packs quite a wallop.  In reality, Joan Bennett was gearing up for her semi-annual holiday from the series, and, as they did during the Laura storyline, and would again when Bennett played Judith Collins Trask in the 1897 sequence, the writers found a nifty way to write her out for several periods of time.  Parker takes such obvious enjoyment in Cassandra's torture of the Mistress of Collinwood that it's almost a shame to see her good time dampened when the Ghost of Trask appears in the shadows of the Collins mausoleum, brandishing his trusty torch.  I said "almost" a shame, because it's also always fun to watch Angelique struggle against oppressive forces, the Trasks and the Nicholas Blairs and the Petofis of the DS Universe, since we know she will (eventually) emerge triumphant.  And there's just something silly about the lighter held up in front of the camera at episode's end, signalling Cassandra's imminent immolation, that makes me love the campier elements of this show as well as the more unsettling.  God love those special effect technicians working on a shoestring!

3.

#757.  Angelique versus Laura for all the cookies.

Dark Shadows featured its share of divas (RIP, Amanda Harris, 1895-1970), but none of the various confrontations between them spark within me the anticipation of this, the smackdown to end all smackdowns:  Angelique Bouchard Collins Collins DuVal DuBois versus Laura Murdoch Collins Stockbridge Collins Collins!  It isn't entirely fair to Diana Millay to describe Laura-the-phoenix as an Angelique prototype, as I've read in interviews with Dark Shadows scribes, though it is and understandable comparison to make.  Laura is a rather one-trick pony, and her ability to cause fires is only one component of Angelique's rather sizable arsenal.  However, when Laura returns in 1897 (and among those viewers watching during the original run, I have to wonder how many of them even saw the initial Laura storyline during early 1967; for those who jumped aboard the crazy train anytime after Barnabas' introduction, Laura would have been just another monster in a growing menagerie during the 1897 story), Ms. Millay proves how interesting Laura is and, as Angelique learns, "I am not without power."  Since Angelique is afraid of fire, despite her ability to create them, as Lara Parker has written, with nonchalance, and since Laura has it out for Barnabas (in an interesting bit of retconning, it turns out they knew each other pre-1795), it's perfectly natural that these two supernatural divas would eventually have to square off.  And in this episode they do it -- from the moment Angelique's hand comes snaking out of the darkness to prevent Laura from dropping the hammer atop the stake that would halve Barnabas' heart, you know it's ON, girl!  I love this episode for many reasons -- the witty dialogue that Parker and Millay exchange during their initial scene together just crackles -- but also because it includes the first appearance of what I've come to term "the dragon dress," one of two frocks that comprises the majority of 1897 Angelique's wardrobe.  And since I've discussed at some length a) the theatrical nature of Dark Shadows, and b) its perpetual lack of budget, I have to admit that I love the special effect I've included as the capture for this episode:  the "melting Laura" shot that consists of Diana Millay facing the camera in extreme close-up as oil runs slowly, oozingly down the lens, effectively causing it to look as if Laura's flesh is melting off her bones due to Angelique and Quentin's invocation to the Egyptian gods of death.  Props, Dark Shadows.  Props.

 2.

#405.  Barnabas damns himself with one gunshot blast to his former paramour. 

If you're going to select an episode of Dark Shadows to show a newbie exactly what all the hubbub is about, this may be the one.  For one thing, it contains an essential moment that is thematically linked, at the very least, to every episode that follows it; that is, of course, Angelique's curse on Barnabas:  the curse of the vampire.  By the time episode #405 came around, Vicki Winters had been vacationing in the past for a good month or so, and I'm assuming that original viewers were wondering exactly how long Barnabas was slated to remain a human.  As well they might:  Angelique's machinations seemed to have maneuvered Barnabas into her corner, if not her bed ... so what could be next?  Since Angelique was a witch, they might have suspected that she had her spellcasting nose stuck where it could do the most harm.  This episode proved them right.    Lara Parker especially is terrific in this episode, helped by wardrobe, whose choice of that delicate blue nightgown allows those oh-so-expressive eyes of hers to pop, especially during her closeups as she delivers the words that damn Barnabas to a life of the undead.  Frid isn't quite so fantastic (he muffs a line or two) but in this episode particularly his chemistry with co-star Parker is never more evident.  The entire outing would be darned near perfect if it weren't for the bat, that terrible puppet (pictured above) that just goes to show exactly why Jonathan Frid should be given mad credit for demonstrating his ability,, while acting against it, to express anything even remotely resembling fear.

 1.

#955.  Angelique re-dons her witch hat and broom and puts the whammy on Quentin and Maggie.

In an imperfect storyline, this episode, especially for those Lara Parker/Angelique fans out there, is darned near perfect.  It is a testament to Ms. Parker that, after all the nasty tricks Angelique has played on some of our most beloved characters over the past three years or so, she can elicit any audience sympathy at all.  For the past few months, Angelique has been playing Samantha Stephens with business magnate and Leviathan lackey Sky Rumson.  In this episode, the real Angelique comes roaring back to life:  throttling Sky into unconsciousness using one of his own ties and the statue he so thoughtfully picked out for her; taunting Quentin before switching gears so she can reminisce with him about the good old days; flying into Barnabas' arms and subsequently reigniting her own feelings for him, suppressed since mid-way through the 1897 story; then zapping Maggie and Quentin so they fall in love with each other and, thus, removing Maggie as a potential threat in her bid for Barnabas' heart.  If one ignores the ridiculous revelations about Angelique's "true story" in the upcoming1840 storyline, her character arc is incredibly consistent, compelling, and, above all things, tragic.  Seemingly doomed to remain as loveless as Barnabas, Angelique -- who spends this episode looking ultra-chic in her leopard print jacket and flowing blonde hair -- proves that for some people, no matter how far they've come or how much they seem to have changed, they are eternally compelled to revert to their baser selves, even if it costs them the happiness they crave.  The moment when Angelique regains her powers is both liberating and tragic:  liberating, since it's been difficult at best to watch Our Favorite Witch deny the witchcraft that helps make her an interesting and integral component of the Dark Shadows universe; and tragic, since we also know that regaining those powers means that she is resigning herself to a life without love.  Those very powers, according to Barnabas, prevent her from accessing the humanity that we know is really inside her, underneath the vengeance and the devices ("I was," as she tells Quentin with a certain ruefulness, "very good at devices.  Always have been.").  Therefore, as Parker has written before, Angelique will always be lonely.  Again, it is a credit to Lara Parker's strong acting ability that within one episode she can perfectly demonstrate for us an Angelique who is, at turns through this episode's twenty-two minutes, tearful, brooding, apoplectic, betrayed, and powerful.  The spooky green light that illuminates Angelique's features as she calls upon the powers of darkness once again shows us that the witch is back, for better or for worse.  And heaven help those that get in her way.