“Dark Shadows” occupied a unique place on the narrow spectrum of afternoon television programming in the late 1960s and early 1970s. A gothic daytime soap opera with paranormal elements, it gave the world the first vampire heartthrob, Barnabas Collins, played by Jonathan Frid (who died only a few weeks ago).
For a generation of housewives, Barnabas was a figure of immortal intrigue and romance long before the similarly named (and less age-appropriate) Edward Cullen or Buffy’s romances with Angel and Spike. For a generation of youngsters, too, “Dark Shadows” was a daily after-school dose of shivery thrills.
Unsurprisingly, both Tim Burton and Johnny Depp were part of this “Dark Shadows” generation. Depp says as a boy he was so obsessed with Barnabas that he wanted to be him. (One of my closest friends had the same preoccupation as a boy.)
How melancholy, then, that the Burton–Depp collaboration Dark Shadows feels less like a fond and knowing tribute than a work of indifferent, uninspired hackery. Though the gothic production design is quintessential Burton, and the blend of horror and comedy promises to harken back to Beetlejuice, the overall effect for me is closer to Burton’s Planet of the Apes than anything else, in that neither film seems to know what it wants to be when it grows up. Burton tries a little of this and a little of that, but the work never seems to coalesce.
At least Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Alice in Wonderland had a go-for-broke sense of commitment. Charlie in particular had elements that made me grin with giddy delight—which only made the film’s wrongheaded excesses all the more frustrating. As for Alice, while I strongly disliked it, I don’t deny that it cast a potent spell.
Where is the spell in Dark Shadows? Above all, where is Barnabas Collins, with his aura of mystery and charm, his dangerous reserve and knowing smile? On the small screen, Barnabas strode into “Dark Shadows” in the second season like a force of nature. Released from a 200-year imprisonment locked in a coffin in the family mausoleum, he returned to his ancestral home, the castle-like Collinwood mansion in Collinsport, Maine, sweeping the Collins women off their feet with his courtly courtesies. “Surely not Vicky,” he smiles when introduced to young Victoria Winters, who bears an uncanny resemblance to his 18th-century love, Josette. “A name like Victoria is so beautiful that I could not bear to part with a single syllable of it.”
I would love to see Depp play this character—a character he’s wanted to play since childhood. He’d be great. Naturally, he’s playing someone completely different.
Granted, they give him that great line with Victoria (Bella Heathcote, who also plays Josette). But it’s a rare moment of grace in a character who more often comes off, like Depp’s Willy Wonka, as the ultimate fish out of water—a pasty-faced weirdo barely able to cope with the formidable task of interacting with human beings.
Where the small-screen Barnabas glibly passed himself off as a descendant of the Barnabas Collins whose portrait hung in the main hall at Collinwood, Depp’s Barnabas has neither the interest in nor the capacity for such subterfuge, leaving it to family matriarch Elizabeth Collins (Michelle Pfeiffer) to cover for him. Far from charming or impressing anyone, his stiff manner, stuffy speech patterns and period ignorance make him an awkward, embarrassing presence, given to inappropriate remarks and behavior.
“Fifteen, and no husband?” he barks at Elizabeth’s sullen daughter Carolyn (Chloë Moretz). “You must put those birthing hips to good use!” Naturally, he’s bewildered by the mysteries of the 1970s, with its automobiles and McDonalds and frozen waffles. “Reveal yourself, tiny songstress!” he cries out at the sight of a Carpenters TV special before ripping the back off the giant console television set.
As that gag illustrates, the period trappings are impeccable, and probably the best thing about Dark Shadows. There are pot-smoking hippies in bell bottoms and microbuses, and the soundtrack is replete with the Moody Blues and Donovan. A movie theater marquee announces Superfly. Everything from lava lamps to Troll dolls to “Operation!” is a wonder to Barnabas.
If you are in love with the 1970s and Johnny Depp, perhaps you will enjoy this. Andrew O’Hehir says he knew he would love the film when he spotted a banana-seat Schwinn bicycle leaning against the front porch of Collinwood in an early scene. All right. But then comes a “happening” featuring Alice Cooper as himself (!), with a disco ball and cage dancers. At Collinwood. Is this really anyone’s idea of a good time?
Besides Pfeiffer, Heathcote and Moretz, the overstuffed cast includes Eva Green as Barnabas’s nemesis Angelique, Helena Bonham Carter as boozing shrink Dr. Julia Hoffman, Jackie Earle Haley as Loomis the caretaker and Jonny Lee Miller as Elizabeth’s slacker brother Roger. No one has much to do, except for Green, who vamps it up not as a vampire but as a witch whose love/hate relationship with Barnabas drives the story, from Josette’s suicide and Barnabas’s vampirism to the Collins family’s diminished circumstances and tragic history.
It’s worth noting that where the TV series had Barnabas inadvertently released from his casket by a grave robber searching for family jewels, in the movie his coffin is accidentally unearthed by a construction crew. The sense of dread linked to trespass, to desecration and sacrilege, is gone. The man who was Barnabas’s first victim in the TV series was a reprobate soul who deserved what he got. The construction crew victims were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
With graphic bloodletting and sexual content, Dark Shadows is decidedly adult fare. Regrettably, many parents heading to theaters to see the latest Johnny Depp film will have children in tow far too young for the material. Few if any of those youngsters, I imagine, will come away sharing Depp's childhood wish to be Barnabas Collins.
Comments
Post a Comment
“Though the gothic production design is quintessential Burton…” That phrase alone will probably be enough for me to see it and mostly enjoy it, especially since I thought Alice in Wonderland was missing that quintessential Burton aura. However, I was really hoping this would be a big improvement from Alice, the only Burton film I have seen and not cared for. Usually, Burton’s production design and Danny Elfman’s scoring along with a semi-decent script and performances are enough for me to enjoy one of his films. On the other hand, if this is really uneven, maybe I’ll just see The Avengers again.
When you think about it, isn’t Depp’s Barnabas exactly what you would expect from a guy who’s just woken up after two hundred years? Wouldn’t he be the ultimate fish out of water? Granted, it might not be the Barnabas Collins of the original show (160 episodes are available streaming from Netflix, by the by), but perhaps that was the idea Burton was going for.
Evan: You may enjoy it more than I did. Some critics really dug it. It does have some nice bits. If you see it, let me know. (FWIW, this weekend I’ll be going back for a third helping of Avengers, this time with my lady.)
Rob B: I don’t think being a FOW requires a dearth of charm, restraint, humor and self-awareness. We could suppose that Barnabas was such a man to start with, or that vampirism—or being locked in a coffin for 200 years—made him so, but the bottom line is that Burton and/or Depp wanted such a character.
On a more basic level, what is plausible is one question, and what is enjoyable and entertaining is another. Johnny Depp can project all the eccentric charm and charisma in the world when he wants to, per Don Juan DeMarco and Pirates of the Caribbean. He is also capable of shutting it off like a faucet, per The Tourist and Charlie & the Chocolate Factory.
I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but I like to spend time with Depp the charmer, and I don’t like to spend time with Depp the wet blanket. A character is more intriguing to the audience when they’re capable of intriguing other characters.
Mr. Greydanus,
Thank you for taking the time to respond to me! I agree that Johnny Depp is infinitely more watchable as Captain Jack Sparrow than as Willy Wonka. However, there is something in me that is just plain sick of the “suave, debonair vampire” (which is how we got Twilight, where the vampires aren’t even vampires). I guess I’d just like to see vampires like Max Shreck’s Count Orlok once in a while…
All of the previews for this have been absolutely soul-deadening. Do we really need, in the 2010s, a cultural satire on the 1970s? This is like watching a movie made in the 1980s where they go after “Fibber McGee and Molly” for being goofy (Steve Guttenberg’s character: “What is UP with that closet?” Cue: laugh track).
“Is this really anyone’s idea of a good time?”
Yes. This is Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s idea of a good time. Only that movie has already been made, and it was made better, in the actual 1970s.
I was never much of a fan of the original, but both of my sisters and my wife are. In making Barnabas Collins into a figure of fun, easily mocked as a fish out of water—face it, a dork—Burton and Depp are almost certain to have alienated the core audience one would expect the film to have—fans of the original show. My wife is certainly among the alienated.
Rob B: While I also would love to see some more Vampires like Count Orlock (especially the version of Orlock in Shadow of a Vampire, Dark Shadows is not the venue for a FOW Vampire. Besides, all vampires are by definition fishes out of water, and this means that unless the vampire is only recently undead (or insane like Orlock in Shadow), he has already learned how to deal with it. Otherwise he would have a stake through his heart.
Unfortunately, the sympathetic debonair vampire in literature is as old as Varney himself, and is not likely to go away any time soon. This is what was so unnerving about Coppola’s Dracula, which was so close and yet so far from the novel for this very reason.
I am fan of the show, and every preview/trailer reinforces the idea that Hollywood has truly run out of stories. Another look at the 70s..(yawn). What’s most atrocious is that this show was remarkbly good. The acting is fantastically over-the-top. The storylines are wonderfully gothic. They take all the classics of gothic literature and squeeze them for all the melo-drama they are worth.
Also, (for those who care) Victoria Winters was not the double for Josette Dupres—that honor belonged to Maggie Evans, the waitress at the Blue Whale. Victoria was transported to the past to witness all the events that led up to Barnabas being transformed into a vampire. Ah well…
@SDG: I did see the film today, and I enjoyed it. It was certainly not Burton’s best work, but it was a marked improvement over Alice in Wonderland. The art direction was terrific, and I thought all the performances were solid, and Elfman did a great job scoring the music to reflect the two time periods. On the other hand, I do think the style of the film is an acquired taste and would probably only appeal to Burton admirers. (I know that no one in my family would enjoy it.) Whereas Alice had a dearth of Burton quirkiness, Dark Shadows may have had an excess that led to some unevenness. However, once in a while, I really enjoy excessive Burtonesque quirkiness.
(FWIW, using the Decent Films rating system, I’d probably give it ***, B-, -2)
Ernesto:
Yeah, *Shadow of the Vampire* was indeed good, especially the scene where the vampire talks about how depressing Bram Stoker’s novel was. And you make a fine point about Coppola’s *Dracula*, which remains one of my favorite versions of the film (though mainly because of Hopkins’ Van Helsing).
Haven’t seen the movie.
Loved the TV show. Raced home each aftenoon to watch it. I’ve got it on Home video. That old BW Video tape that its recorded on is great! You can’t replace the Theremin for the sound effects.
Maybe we should leave some things alone.
Matt: Re. “Maybe we should leave some things alone”:
I’m reminded of Victoria Winter’s opening monologue in the episode of Dark Shadows setting up the introduction of Barnabas Collins:
I can see where “Dark Shadows” fans might feel those words apply tolerably well to Messrs Burton and Depp.
SDG,
I remember that monologue, too. Get out of Maine, woman! All of you!
I suppose we’ll always face some rework.
Post a Comment
By submitting this form, you give The National Catholic Register permission to publish this comment. Comments will be published at our discretion, and may be edited for clarity and length. For best formatting, please limit your response to one paragraph and don't hit "enter" to force line breaks.