“Death is a valid reason.”
TRUE! — nervous — very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? Writing about Dark Shadows every day has sharpened my senses — not destroyed — not dulled them. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily — how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
Well, not the whole story. There’s, like, 800 more episodes; we’d be here all night. But let’s see if we can focus on the next twenty-two minutes.
That first paragraph is stolen, of course, from the opening of Edgar Allan Poe’s 1843 short story “The Tell-Tale Heart”. I figure it’s okay for me to borrow stuff from Poe, because Lord knows the Dark Shadows writers sure did.
We’ve heard faint echoes of “The Tell-Tale Heart” several times so far, starting with the pounding heartbeat sound that startled Willie Loomis when he unchained Barnabas’ coffin back in episode 210. The latest outbreak was just last Friday, when Reverend Trask was plagued by a spectral voice that only he could hear, mocking him and accusing him of persecuting the innocent.
Today, we’re doing an even more direct lift from Poe’s 1846 story, “The Cask of Amontillado”. If you don’t know the story, it’s basically a cautionary tale about hanging out with people who talk about wine all the time. I live in San Francisco, and you have no idea how helpful Poe’s warning has been for me.
The thing that’s interesting about both “Cask” and “Telltale Heart” — and the thing that makes them particularly relevant for Dark Shadows‘ appropriation — is that they’re character studies of insanity, told from the point of view of a cold-blooded, calculating murderer.
These aren’t mystery stories — you know right up front that the narrator is planning to take his revenge on the victim, although in both cases the specific motive for the crime is shadowy and unclear. The horror that the reader feels comes from the unsettling experience of sharing the maniac’s point of view, as he develops and executes his plan.
And boy, does that sound familiar; we’ve been doing ride-alongs with Barnabas for months, as he plots to destroy practically everyone he comes across. Today, it’s Reverend Trask’s turn in the role of victim.
This is somehow vaguely related to Trask’s successful conviction of governess Victoria Winters on charges of witchcraft, but it’s a tenuous connection. We’re really just doing this because torture is fun, and we didn’t have anything else to do today.
Trask tells Nathan about a dream that he had last night, where he saw the spirits of Abigail and Maude, and he was told to go to the Old House on the Collins estate to learn some terrifying secrets. Nathan’s been developing some theories about what’s been going on at the Old House, and he tries to warn Trask, leading to some extremely Dark Shadows-y dialogue.
Nathan: If I were to tell you that to go there would mean your certain destruction… would you still go?
Trask: What do you mean?
Nathan: Certainly you understand the meaning of the word “destruction”.
Trask: Are you sure you’re not the one who’s imagining things, or is there something you know that you’re not telling me?
Nathan: I just wouldn’t go there, if I were you.
Trask: But you give me no valid reason!
Nathan: Death is a valid reason.
And yeah, I guess it is at that. But obviously Trask isn’t going to follow Nathan’s advice, because this is a story, and if characters listened to sensible and cautious advice, we’d never get anything done. Warnings in horror stories are basically just a kind of sound effect that establishes atmosphere, like thunder, or dogs howling, or a Michael Giacchino score.
Over at the Old House, Barnabas is making complicated preparations for the evening’s entertainment, including writing a lengthy note about tombs and death and clocks, for Trask to read before he descends into the cellar.
The note’s a bit weird and time-wastey, but the “Cask of Amontillado” narrator goes on and on about his preparation too, so at least it’s true to the source material. Also, we’ve got 22 minutes to fill, so why not.
Trask is lured by Abigail’s ghostly voice, calling for him to come to the Old House. This is actually more Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion than Poe, but again, you have to do something.
At this point, they try a completely new kind of sound effect. Abigail’s voice is calling, “Trask… Trask…” He yells “No!” and the sound of his voice echoes, getting louder and more discordant until it suddenly cuts out. It’s not easy to describe this, because it really doesn’t sound like anything else on television. I have absolutely no reference point that I can use as an analogy.
They do the same sound effect later on — Trask cries out when he understands the fate in store for him, and you get the weird, loud reverberating echo effect. I don’t remember if they ever do this particular effect again; this may have been an experiment that didn’t quite work, so they dropped it. It’s definitely weird and distinctive, but it draws attention to itself as an artificial sound effect construction.
Trask makes his way to the cellar, where he finds Barnabas’ coffin, and they do the pounding heartbeat again, for bonus double Poe points. Can I get a Nevermore?
Barnabas finally appears, and gives Trask one of those lifetime performance reviews that he’s been offering his victims lately, as a kind of pre-death exit interview.
This is actually a departure from the “Cask” model. In Poe’s story, the victim doesn’t know that he’s walking towards his gruesome death. In fact, a great deal of the murderer’s pleasure comes from tricking his prey into participating in his own destruction without realizing it.
But let’s get to the main event, which is securing Trask to a brass ring in an alcove, and then building a brick wall to trap him inside.
This is the big visual set piece, and actually there’s not a lot else to Poe’s story. Once the last brick is in place, there’s only two more sentences, and one of them is in Latin. Really, the point of the story is over once the murder plan is complete.
So it turns out that throwing an Edgar Allan Poe tale into Dark Shadows creates a memorable moment with a fun visual hook, but it isn’t really very story-productive. There’s no second act to “The Cask of Amontillado”, no police investigation or stealthy cover-up. The killer is triumphant, Fortunato is punished, and that’s all.
Other literary influences on the show — Jane Eyre, Dracula, Frankenstein, even Varney the Vampire — are complete, full-length narratives, offering lots of room for surprise twists and ongoing story development. But it turns out that Poe’s stories are too limited in scope to offer more than a day’s worth of story.
It’s worth doing, because it gives the show a satisfying way to destroy Trask, and Dark Shadows will return to both “The Tell-Tale Heart” and “The Cask of Amontillado” later in the series. We’ll also see ideas borrowed from “The Pit and the Pendulum”, and “The Premature Burial”. Poe has definitely left some fingerprints on the show, but it’s not the perfect fit that you might expect.
Tomorrow: Fan Club.
Dark Shadows bloopers to watch out for:
In the Trask/Nathan scene, there’s a moment when both actors lose their place in the script. It happens while Trask is sitting on his bed, right after he says “Lure me?” It’s hard to tell which one of them slips first, but there’s a long moment when it’s clear that neither one knows who’s supposed to talk next. They sweat through it, and get back on track.
When Barnabas appears in the cellar, Trask gasps, “Barnabas Collins! But — you’re dead!” How does Trask know that? The cover story was supposed to be that everyone thought Barnabas went to England. It appears to be the worst-kept secret in Collinsport, but a lot of Nathan’s current story depends on him thinking that Barnabas is alive, and hiding in the Old House.
Tomorrow: Fan Club.
— Danny Horn
Dark Shadows Every Day 
This really was a horrible thing for Barnabas to do to Trask, this would be a really horrible and slow way to die. But I enjoy it because Trask so had it coming. He’s probably the one character (well his descendent Gregory and his son Lamar also) I most love to hate. I enjoy the walling up of Trask both now and in 1897 when Judith and Tim do it, and feel Lamar got off way too easy, since he walled up Barnabas, I sort of feel cheated that Lamar didn’t die the same way.
Godzil-er-Barnabas Strikes Again!
Wow, I thought this was a Friday episode for some reason. This is what the show is giving the audience on Tuesday now! Though the actual Friday cliffhanger, it seems, is even better.
Barnabas’s thirst for blood (literal and metaphorical) often sabotages any positive goals he might have. A prosecutor signing a rambling, incoherent confession before vanishing into thin air tends to arouse suspicions rather than freeing the defendant. Keeping him alive and under his control (supernaturally or just under fear of death) would be far more effective but efficiency is not Barnabas’s strong point.
What I like about Lamar Trask in 1840 is that he’s sort of the Hamlet of his own story. He’s out to destroy the man who killed his father and (in his own blundering way) killed the woman he loved (Roxanne would have arguably lived a full life if she had never met Barnabas Collins). Barnabas later murders him for killing Angelique and the audience is meant to sympathize with that act but Angelique was directly responsible for Roxanne’s death.
Yes. I still got to write the fanfic where the ghost of Roxanne eggs on Lamar to kill Angelique…
Couldn’t Nathan MAYBE mention to Trask that his ‘sister’/wife died under mysterious circumstances at the Old House or did Trask possibly know this already. Also one of the most spine chilling scenes I remember is just before Willie went to open Barnabas’ tomb the heartbeat was also accompanied by the ‘glowing eyes’ on Barnabas’portrait at Collinwood – very unsettling..
I think Nathan is keeping Suki’s murder close to his chest, so to speak, to use it as leverage against Joshua. At least that’s how I interpreted it.
I think Nathan doesn’t care a whit that Suki’s dead, was probably thinking of strangling her himself, & although momentarily horrified at the sight of her dead body, has actually been quite relieved over the whole thing. In addition, it kept his own hands clean. If he can use the death later, he will keep that under consideration, but I’m pretty sure I felt his palpable relief once she was gone.
The heart beat sound affect is still quite unsettling, even in 2021. When Willie followed it, there was no music under it, just the heartbeat. And so too with Trask.
Sometimes, the music reminds us we are watching tv, so when there is no music at all, the tension doesn’t have anywhere to go except straight into our own muscles! And, me, white knuckled behind a pillow!
So I missed out somehow, did this Trask have a wife and children he abandoned in Salem to come here? Did he ever talk about them in 1795?
No, we don’t know anything about Trask’s past except that he was a witch hunter in Salem. We know that there are other Trasks in the world in 1840 and 1897, but I forget if they say that they’re direct descendants or not.
Lamar mentions that Rev Trask was his father. Gregory states he was his great-grandfather (or great-great, can’t recall off the top of my head).
However, Rev Trask also said “physical pleasures” were “unknown” to him, so…LOL
Maybe he and his wife just looked on sex as a grim duty for procreation.
Sorry just had a funny thought as soon as I hit post. Were the witches of salem running out due to over fishing and he had to find a new pool?
It’s hard to say, but Abigale did send for Trask. It’s possible that she wrote to Salem telling them there was a witch in Collinwood and the witch hunters in Salem simply decided who would be the best to send. Trask drew the short straw, as it were.
The way the chandeliers rang like bells reminded me of “A Cask of Amontillado” too, even though in the story the bells are on the character’s outfit. The jingling of bells is such a huge and memorable part of the story, though; I wonder if consciously or unconsciously it prompted the writer to write in this unusual sound effect.
Barnabas doesn’t mention it, so I’m not sure it actually occurs to him, but he does kind of have a legitimate beef against Trask. As a witch hunter, it kind of would have been Trask’s duty to stop Angelique, who was responsible for Barnabas’s condition.
This final scene in the basement with Trask stayed with me all those years.
Since becoming a vampire Barnabas has taken on a kind of Charles Bronson in federalist breeches quality. He’s now a revenge-fueled avenging angel, unless you’re a lady of the night going for a turn about the docks. Then he’s just Jack the Ripper who scares you to death (which absolves Barnabas from being a literal murderer of prostitutes). He’s taken out Abagail and now Trask. And since they are pious bores, the audience is none too concerned.
But Trask hasn’t done anything wrong, really. Yes, he is falsely trying Victoria, but he’s not a hypocrite and he has no ulterior motives. And if a woman came to you with a book from the future and everyone kept dying around her, you might think it’s not the craziest leap to make. If protecting Vicki was his only aim, Barnabas could surely have used his ever growing magical/vampire powers to reveal Angelique as the true witch. In fact, Trask is MORE grounded in reality than those characters who don’t believe in any witchcraft. They’re the real idiots: Collinsport is hips-deep in witchery.
So why does Trask deserve such a gruesome ending? Is his piety really so vile?
Trask blackmailed Forbes into committing perjury against Victoria Winters, among other things. That’s not something a pious man would do. He may be sincere in his belief, but he used unscrupulous means.
Yes. Sure, he’s sincere, but it’s the sincere persecution, torture and murder of people he deems less worthy than himself, which is definitely on the wrong side of decent. Obviously he exists in a reality that features actual witches, but he manages to get it hopelessly wrong and clearly takes a great deal of personal satisfaction in pursuing Vicki (whose general stupidity and eagerness to discuss her time traveling shenanigans mostly occur after he’s already decided she’s a witch), which makes you wonder how many other non-witch people he’s sent to an early grave.
Admittedly walling him up for a slow, terrifying death is going a tad far, but I’d say he deserved some kind of comeuppance.
Trask was also narrow-minded, judgmental of dissenting values and lifestyles–against any healthy inquiry and critical thinking that challenged his own restrictive view of the world. Also, I would argue that he was hypocritcal in condoning lying and perjury.
I wrote a longish post about Trask’s hypocrisy/lack of sincerity for the previous episode, but to reiterate here–I once may have thought of Trask as “sincere” but not on this rewatch. In addition to the illegal/immoral acts of blackmailing Nathan Forbes into perjuring himself twice and trying to bribe Peter Bradford out of defending Vicky, he also engages in completely immoral/illegal behavior in disposing of Maude’s body and covering up her death. And he does it all, as he admits in the previous episode, to save his own “good name.” He indeed has ulterior motives–to elevate himself in the eyes of pious others and to protect his cultivated reputation at any cost.
“Charles Bronson in federalist breeches”
Lol, that’s brilliant!
I agree, Ricardo–that was a priceless pop cultural allusion by Danny.
When Trask blackmailed Nathan into lying to ensure Vicky was convicted he lost all credibility for his piety or Zealotry and became a villain without a moustache to trwirl.
I love the riffing on Poe. I remember reading “The Tell-Tale Heart” when I was a 16 year old boy and completely enthralled by it. I went on to read every single work ever written by Edgar Allan Poe years later. I would even visit the Poe Cottage when I was in New York City a few years ago.
It’s always been rather difficult to adapt Poe because his short stories describe a mood rather than than go into many specific plot details. The more famous adaptations of Poe by Vincent Price and Roger Corman in the 1960s expanded greatly on the source material by making up an additional 60 minutes of storytelling to support the 20 minutes of screen time it would actually take to tell Poe’s original story.
Quite a satisfying end to Trask. And he does deserve a grim ending, more than most of the recent deaths. Between his McCarthyistic behavior to his blackmailing, suborning perjury and threatening.
I, too, have been puzzled by the fact that lots of people seem to know that Barnabas died despite it being covered up (cause plague!), although a handful of people still seem to think he went to Europe (eg, Millicent).
I would think Victoria would be especially puzzled by Barnabas’s death, since in her view, Barnabas lived on to sail to England and had a child (a descendant of which she met after he supposedly traveled back over the sea of familiar faces… umm, I mean over the ocean)
“Three can keep a secret if two are dead.” Ben Franklin printed that saying if he didn’t make it up. Too many people know that Barnabas did not go to England. Maybe Abigail saw no harm in telling Trask the truth.
Just a quick correction for the Blooper segment. Trask DID already know that Barnabas was dead, per a conversation he had with Josette toward the end of episode 412. They are discussing Vicki’s book and how it predicted Josette’s demise. Trask asks if it also predicted Barnabas’ death, and Josette replies something along the lines of, “no, it was wrong on that account,” since the book says Barnabas went to England. Given the way they discuss the topic, it appears that Trask was already “in the loop” about Barnabas’ death even prior to this particular conversation with Josette.
Thanks for reminding us of this!
Two more bloopers: Before Barnabas is about to wall Trask up with the final brick in the wall, Trask regains consciousness (evidently he had passed out) and asks, “Where are you now?” He meant, “Where am I now?” Also, Joel Crothers I’d not mentioned in this episode’s closing cast credits as Nathan Forbes.
In that last scene, all Trask says, is “Where…?” Then Barnabas says, “Where are you? In your grave.” Also, Joel Crothers is indeed credited as Nathan in the end credits for this episode.
This was one of Barnabas’ finest hours, another episode where he is on a power surge. As in other recent episodes we’ve seen during this storyline, Jonathan Frid was clearly getting into his work that day.
The sound effect used in the show is like the one used at the end of the Nina Hagen song ‘Antiworld’. I’m not sure how it’s achieve d but it’s an interesting unsettling sound.
If I had to identify one event that affected me most profoundly as a 10 year old of everything I saw in the entirety of the Dark Shadows narrative, it would be Barnabas walling up Trask. I’ve never forgotten that nor have I forgotten the way it impacted me when I saw it in real time.
I also found the final location for Trask chosen by Barnabas to be incredibly shocking every time I remembered it as I was watching subsequent episodes, his body decomposing behind the bricks right there in what is essentially Barnabas’s bedroom like some high school boy’s trophy shelf.
Pretty bold statement.
I remember this episode vividly, too, because I had just started watching DARK SHADOWS when, one weekday afternoon, I had stumbled the episode shortly before this one, when Barnabas attacked Maude Browning and left his cane behind on the docks. I loved your analogy comparing the Old House basement room to Barnabas’ bedroom and your simile likening the wall where he walls up Trask to “some high school boy’s trophy shelf.”
This scene is one that stayed with me in my memory for decades until I saw it again four years ago! My fam was so sick that we all cheered when Barnabas put the last brick in and Trask screamed! He so deserved it!
Funny, after watching this ep twice, I came back with the same, admittedly stupid, observation: Frid never struck me as someone who knew how to mortar a brick… I know, I know, his family had a construction business, but somehow I don’t think he shovelled out cement troughs on summer holidays.
“The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I could, but when he ventured on insult, I vowed revenge.” Or words to that effect.
Maybe not, but I can’t see him not getting some bricklaying experience to some degree. It just makes sense that he would have.
The mortar they use for the last few bricks looks like oatmeal, not concrete! It really has that color, including the darkening from drying out somewhat. I could see that oatmeal would’ve easier to work with!
I must respectfully and subtly disagree with Danny about Trask’s vaunted sincerity. The bad reverend might not be the most comfortably worldly person around, but he is still an utter hypocrite. A man so avowedly strict in his adherence to the “Almighty” would not have coerced Nathan to lie in court, for fear of sinning in God’s eyes for doing so. However, Trask’s zeal and ambition to convict Vicki at any cost betrays his malleable morality. He might have some limited sincerity in believing that Vicki is a witch, but he’s blinded to the truth by his own ruthless ambition, and has no compunction in inducing perjury in Nathan.
Also, he did “beget” Lamar Trash, so his protestations that he isn’t given to temptations of the flesh might be overstated, at the very least. Of course, it’s easy to imagine a sermonizing reverend decrying the sins of lust while secretly persuing all kinds of flesh away from public eyes. We’ve seen such examples among modern day, self-appointed moralists very often, and it’s easy to believe Trask is their philosophical ancestor. Just because he shows such believably comedic unease at Maude’s body being in his room does not mean he’s beyond indulging in carnal pleasures, even if he’s the type to secretly scourge himself in shame and punishment afterward. He’s awkward about the circumstances with Maude’s body because he’s not used to having falsely incriminating circumstances implicating him. HE is usually the one to falsely implicate others, and is desperately worried that the tables have been turned.
He may, in fact, believe some or all of his pious declarations, but he is nonetheless a hypocrite who might also be a closeted pervert, not averse to having a conjugal visit or two with any fallen woman he might see fit to “save”.
Even when is ghost is entreated to find and “exorcise” the real witch Angelique/Cassandra in 1968, his willingness to do so does not contradict that in life he was an amoral, ambitious, self-aggrandizing, hypocritical opportunist.
Harcourt: “A man so avowedly strict in his adherence to the “Almighty” would not have coerced Nathan to lie in court, for fear of sinning in God’s eyes for doing so.”
I always get a little uncomfortable when Hollywood tries to portray holy God-fearing men or women. They always get a little heavy handed in the scope of hell-fire and damnation and all of that. I guess it plays better than a humble, loving, forgiving follower of Christ.
Trask never claims to be a Christian, but a reverend. But, like some people even today who claim to be a reverend, he cannot say what church he is a reverend of. So, in my mind when I am thinking about Trask, and does he really deserve being walled up alive in the basement, I have to consider Trask’s lies before God Himself.
God Himself knows Trask is not a true follower, but Trask uses God’s laws and even God’s words to condemn others (completely out of context and against God’s character), mostly who are innocent women in the wrong place at the wrong time. In this way, Trask is a serial killer too, a false prophet dealing death, totally deserving his fate. If he were truly in God’s will, in my humble opinion, God would protect him from such a death.
“Also, he did ‘beget’ Lamar Trash, so his protestations that he isn’t given to temptations of the flesh might be overstated, at the very least.” I think we have to give the reverend a pass on this one for practical reasons. His son Lamar (and his great-grandson Gregory) are retcons. I think we’ll just have to accept that the writers, who had not conceived (no pun intended) of Lamar yet, intended Rev. Trask to be truthful in his claim of being unfamiliar with such pleasures.
“Also, he did “beget” Lamar Trash…” LOL
Freudian slip?
That was either the renegade autocorrect feature of my device, or my clumsy fingers, Wiseguy😁. However, perhaps I should accept the possibility that a Freudian slip via my errant keystroke WAS to blame. Or, if it was really autocorrect that caused “Trask” to become “Trash”, then its perfect aptness will cause me to consider that my device has acquired independent thought that will require closer scrutiny.
Thanks for the comment, Wiseguy!
Barnabas could have used diplomacy instead of violence and got Victoria released. But that’s not the way he rolls.
Well, msbrekhus, you make an excellent point about Barnabas’s lack of diplomacy working against his purported interest, that being the saving of Victoria Winters, but it’s easy to imagine his pre-curse self being more altruistic.
I’m talking about the charming, sincere, good man who graciously endured the incoherent (to him) ramblings of Vicki when she first appeared to him in 1795, carrying with her an anachronistic book and and scandalously unadorned knees. That Barnabas was willing to help her, perhaps to his own detriment if it had been necessary, even though it was of no possible benefit to him to do so. He was a man awaiting the arrival of his bride to be, and getting entangled with a vaguely addled woman from the future wasn’t likely to endear him to his bride, his martinet father, or any of his future in-laws. But there he was, kind and helpful, despite it all.
Danny and others commenting here have rightly criticized Barnabas wrecking-crew manner of dealing with difficult situations, but nearly all that was AFTER he was cursed by Angelique. Her friend the bat, once bidden, got Barnabas, once bitten, on a really bad path.
Even his impetuous challenge of Jeremiah to the duel, was after the considerable, apparent betrayal from two people he loved, and a duel to a man of his time felt like the only action open to him, even if we see that as archaic and barbaric today.
No, Barnabas’s transmogrification into a vampire forever changed his soul. Even when he escaped the vampire curse for extended periods in the future and his better nature and compassion gradually returned, he still retained an occasional outburst of rage or revenge, even if only to protect his loved ones or himself. Yes, he was a better person, protector even of family and friends, capable of good conscience and remorse again, once he was cured of being a vampire. But how does one go back to total, benign innocence after killing so many? The toothpaste was out of the tube and not all of it would ever go back in again.
So, I feel his true nature was, at heart, kind and generous, but then hideously distorted and twisted by his curse, which, even when lifted, left a residue that couldn’t entirely be extinguished.
“Barnabas could have used diplomacy instead of violence and got Victoria released.” But that’s not very interesting TV. 🙂
At this point it’s anyone’s guess who knows Barnabas is dead, and who thinks Barnabas is in England. The writers should have had a cheat sheet among them.
The writers absolutely needed a cheat sheet, James, so often did they contradict themselves over the course of the show.
Danny often mentioned these revisions in a more charitable way, but I think it destroyed the continuity to a degree that ultimately undermined the story’s integrity, making its eventual end, while sad for us fans
The writers absolutely needed a cheat sheet, James, so often did they contradict themselves over the course of the show.
Danny often mentioned these revisions in a more charitable way, but I think it destroyed the continuity to a degree that ultimately undermined the story’s integrity, making its eventual end, while sad for us fans, also inevitable.
The most troubling of these were the inconsistent rules about how changing the past can affect the “present”.
As stated elsewhere, but seldom considered at the time, Barnabas went back in time on different occasions, at least two of which to intentionally make changes that would affect the present.
To 1897 he went to prevent Quentin’s becoming the ghost that would threaten David and Amy’s lives. And to 1840 he followed Julia to prevent the 1970 destruction of Collinwood by the ghost of Gerard Stiles, who’d lived in 1840. In each case the premise was the altered past would have commensurate changes to the present, therefore saving the haunted children and the Collins family of 1969 and 1970, respectively.
However, in both cases, Barnabas changed his own past by not returning to his chained coffin as a vampire, making his 1967 exit from the Collins mausoleum impossible. So, when he returned to the present in each case, he should’ve been unknown to everyone and introduced anew as a relative from England.
Instead, everything continued as when he’d first met his relatives in 1967, despite his own changed history. The consequences of some past actions were reflected in the present, while one of the most momentous of the entire program– Barnabas’s introduction to the modern family– was somehow, in a stunning contradiction, unchanged.
A writers’ cheat sheet with a reminder of how to avoid the folly of such egregious logical inconsistencies might’ve saved the program.
I’d like to make some possibly logical points as an addendum to my preceding commentary.
If Barnabas had reintroduced himself in 1969 after returning from 1897 (via a side trip to 1797, [or 1796, or 1795!]), which itself would have made his involvement in the Leviathan story even less effective, his later trip to 1840 and back to 1970/1971 could have been one where he was still known to the present day Collinses because his non-return to the coffin in 1840 wouldn’t affect his being known in the present, as he’d already broken that timeline and become known to them without the original 1967 events occurring.
Still, when he was waylaid by the Leviathans in the 1790s and sent to 1969, wasn’t his history of being locked into the coffin then also prevented, making his 1840 freeing from the coffin by Julia then also impossible? Then, when 1970 Barnabas joined Julia via the I Ching, he wouldn’t have entered his existing vampire body of 1840, but as the 1970 vampire (again, as punishment by the Leviathans) transported from the present.
What a mess. Confused? Well, the writers should have anticipated these inconsistencies with an attempt at reconciling them, at the very leasr. The only thing that could theoretically be plausible about all these things is that Barnabas, as the veteran time traveller, would be the only one aware of his original timelines, while everyone else would be ignorant of any changes.
My brain hurts.
I think that Trask received nothing less than he deserved, though I cannot imagine what the cameraman did to warrant the same treatment. Out of focus shots maybe? But watching these dramas unfold I am constantly wondering what children made of this in the mid afternoons of 1967. Some answers come from the replies here in DSED. For me it’s out and out education. I love the broader cultural references; Shakespeare, Poe etc. You’ve got characters dealing with the most complex moral choices. Ben Stokes could be plucked out of a Thomas Hardy novel for goodness sakes. All mixed up with bonkers storylines. Wow
BTW. By a bizarre coincidence, having just seen the demise of Trask, I find him haunting my screen again… or Jerry Lacy at least… in ‘The Last Case of August T. Harrison” 48 years later!
And he’s still up against witches, nightmares, forces of evil and all the rest of it.
Aside from Poe, it seems that there were shades of “Scrooge”, the 1951 Alastair Sim version. The clock, the bells, the use of echoes…all between when Scrooge sees Marley’s face in the door knocker & before his appearance in the house.
I was thinking there was something Scroogey about it all but couldn’t quite put my finger on what other than the rattling of chains. Thanks for pointing those things out! It’s been a while since I’ve read “A Christmas Carol” or seen a faithful adaptation so I couldn’t remember all the details.