“What if he found out what I believe to be the truth?”
Barnabas and Sandor are on the trail of Laura Collins, a renewable resource who has spent the last several centuries marrying into the Collins family, having a kid or two, bursting into flames, and then coming back a hundred years later and doing it all over again. It seems like a fairly pointless lifestyle, but maybe there’s a tax break or something.
In the last episode, Barnabas and Sandor broke into the crypt of Laura Stockbridge Collins, a previous incarnation, and discovered that her coffin was empty. This was kind of a wet slap of a Friday cliffhanger, because it tells us nothing and goes nowhere.
Now Barnabas and Sandor are standing around, trying to figure out why there’s no body in the casket. It doesn’t seem to occur to them that there’s nothing there because she died in a fire. You know, I think it’s time they try branching out from grave-robbing as an investigation tool. Honestly, every time with these people.
Sandor objects that the Laura Collins that they know can’t be a ghost. “I have seen ghosts!” the gypsy says. “They don’t breathe! They don’t eat! They don’t live on this earth, like people do!”
“But the portrait!” Barnabas cries. “It showed us there was a duplicate of this woman living when I was a boy. Pure coincidence, Sandor?”
Sandor mutters, “I don’t know,” and starts putting out candles. For all I know, this might be the only television show where you can win an argument by saying, “But the portrait!”
Checking the files in this musty old mausoleum, Barnabas finds the record of Laura’s death. “Cause of death: Fire!” he says. “Fire… How could I have forgotten that?”
That’s a good question, because he already said she died in a fire a couple episodes ago. But they’ve let Barnabas off the chain today, sticking him in a crypt with moody lighting, which always gets him extra motivated. He starts laying on the Fridspeak.
“Or did my father change the course of history again?” he wonders, moving around the set and conspicuously not finding his light. “Was there something about her? — about her death, which made him conceal the cause?”
“How can I discover the truth?” Barnabas wonders. Then he brightens: “Quentin! Quentin can tell me!” Sandor asks what he’s talking about, and Barnabas says, “What happened when they went away together, wherever it was.”
“Alexandria?” Sandor asks.
Barnabas says, “Egypt?” Sandor nods, and Barnabas cries, “You know that!” I swear, sometimes when Barnabas talks, you can almost tell what the original script must have been like.
“What if he found out what I believe to be the truth?” he muses. “What if he left her there?”
Sandor chuckles. “You don’t think he’d tell you!”
“No,” Barnabas admits, “but he may say something he didn’t intend to. That is my only hope.”
That’s not much of a plan, but if anybody can make it work, Barnabas can. People saying things they don’t intend to is pretty much his specialty.
So Barnabas heads for Collinwood, where he catches up with Quentin.
“Well!” Quentin says, as he struts toward his guest. “The elusive cousin Barnabas!” And then things go kind of super amazingly impossibly gay. Seriously, check this out.
Barnabas says, “Good evening, Quentin,” and Quentin says, “I never will understand your life.”
“Nor I yours,” Barnabas counters.
Quentin grins. “But I am home sometimes. You never are! I was just at the Old House. You’re always out — night and day.”
Barnabas smiles, “Well, I’m fortunate, I don’t need much rest.”
“Oh,” Quentin says, “I envy you.”
Yeah, I do too. I’d envy anybody at the receiving end of a roguish Quentin smirk.
Now, as an actor, one of the many positive qualities that David Selby brings to the table is that he always acts like he’s about to kiss everybody that he talks to, up to and including his own siblings, so it’s not like this is a rare event. Still, this does seem like an especially charged encounter.
Barnabas cocks his head to the side, and says, “You know, you interest me a great deal.”
Another grin from the muttonchops. “I’ve gathered that.”
“It’s too bad that we started off so badly,” Barnabas sighs, “because you could be so much help to me, in adjusting myself to my new surroundings.”
We pull back for an intimate two-shot. “Everyone here is so… secretive,” Barnabas twinkles.
“With reason,” Quentin agrees.
“But you are so… open with your friends,” says Barnabas.
Quentin says, “Too open, my sister thinks,” which doesn’t mean anything. At this point, they’re both kind of swept away in the moment.
Then Barnabas says, “What do you know about Laura Collins?” and it’s like one of the great moments in flirting history.
He’s caught Quentin by surprise, getting him to drop his guard for a moment, and he isn’t usually that guarded in the first place.
Quentin tries to get back on his feet by denying everything — “I wouldn’t have forgotten, Barnabas, now would I?” — but it doesn’t last.
Barnabas picks up a paper from the table, and says, “Here is a cable from Alexandria. Perhaps that will refresh your memory.”
This is a strong enough moment for an “oh snap!” music cue and a commercial break, because this is a television show where, rhetorically, the only thing that packs a stronger punch than “But the portrait!” is “Here is a cable from Alexandria.”
And darn it, wouldn’t you know, the grandfather clock strikes five, which reminds Barnabas that he’s got to get back to his coffin before dawn. And we were just getting somewhere really exciting, too.
“What if I decided to find out everything I could about you?” Quentin smiles. “You’re much more mysterious than Laura.”
“I don’t mean to be,” says Barnabas, mysteriously.
“You know, I don’t even know what business you’re in.”
“Investments,” Barnabas offers.
“Oh, really. Is that why you travel to Bangor so often?”
“Yes, I have connections with a banking firm there.”
“Really,” Quentin says. “Well, tell me, are you going to Bangor today?”
Barnabas puts on an adorably thunderstruck expression, which Quentin clearly finds amusing.
Barnabas makes some vague excuses, and then our old friend Convenient Rooster makes his presence known, greeting the dawn from that invisible farm that’s apparently next door to everywhere.
Disappointed that Barnabas seems to be rushing off, Quentin says, “My questioning has made you nervous.”
“Not at all,” Barnabas mutters.
“Then why are you in such a hurry to go? The cook will make us a marvelous breakfast.”
“I’m afraid I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Well, if you don’t go to Bangor today, then why don’t we have lunch together?”
Barnabas turns around, and Quentin says, “You do have lunch, I presume?”
And Barnabas has the saddest look on his face, because Quentin has finally asked him out on a date, and he can’t go.
But don’t worry, Barnabas, you’ll get another chance. You’re bound to run into Quentin again, sooner or later; it’s not that big of a cast.
Tomorrow: Home Alone.
Dark Shadows bloopers to watch out for:
Barnabas tells Sandor, “There was never anyone, or anyone to — that opened that coffin.” Sandor responds, “What does it mean, then?” which is a fair question.
Tomorrow: Home Alone.
— Danny Horn
Dark Shadows Every Day 
Barnabas is not very intelligent in this Laura storyline at all. Everyone is a duplicate of someone!!
What did Barnabas order on his lunch date with Quentin? A ‘stake’ sandwich.
Quentin: Are you going to bang her today? Heh heh heh … (channeling my inner Beavis and Butthead).
That’s exactly what I thought watching it LOL
I usually think that any time somebody says they’re going to Bangor.
Where is the caretaker when you need him? He could have explained everything since he was the ‘official’ (?) keeper of the family archives for more than 20 years in the 20th century. WHY would the Collins family have hired a keeper of the archives anyway – can you see Liz actually doing that – I guess it was her father Jamison who hired the old boy and he just stayed and stayed and made sure that all of the deceased members of the family were getting their proper rest.
My wife still laughs when I do my imitation of the Caretaker saying “L. Murdoch Stockbridge died by fire!” In fact, all I have to do is say is “Died by Fire!” in my old man voice and she cracks up. So I love this storyline.
Hubby and I love saying “Died by fire!”
The writers go to great effort to impose Barnabas into a storyline that was primarily Quentin-centric. The 1795 backstory is altered again to accommodate a personal connection between Barnabas and Laura: Jeremiah was stated to be the same age as Barnabas during 1795 but now suddenly, he’s much older (as he was in all the pre-1795 references to him).
For a standard soap opera, this is not a great move. Usually, you have separate storylines going so that you don’t need your lead actors in every episode. 1897 at this point had the opportunity to branch out: Barnabas/Angelique/Rachel/even Charity in one storyline and Quentin/Laura/Jamison in another. However, DS is no longer a standard soap opera. The lead characters must be involved in every major storyline. The same thing will occur when Jenny returns.
I think this is wonderful, by the way. The redeeming point of the Laura storyline is that it brings Barnabas and Quentin together.
I agree about the Laura storyline’s strength being the union of Barn & Q. That, and Laura’s wonderful line about boy Barnabas.
It’s a little too convoluted. There really didn’t need to be a direct connection between Barnabas and Laura at all in order for him to get involved. All that was needed was for him to realize that Jamison’s life was in danger and he would be forced to save him to ensure that Liz and Roger are born. Granted, his past association with Laura raises his suspicions faster, but it’s a rather complicated way of getting him involved.
I got the strangest looks reading this installment on the bus. Was that the reaction you had intended, Cousin Danny? Or were you hoping for setting altogether entirely… different… indeed?
Is this some kind of black magic?
That rooster follows Barnabas around like a pet –
Another blooper: at 6:30 Sandor says, “It don’t matter if the coffin is empty. Laura Collinwood is no ghost, I know that.”
“But the portrait!” Barnabas cries. “It showed us there was a duplicate of this woman living when I was a boy. Pure coincidence, Sandor?”
Now seriously, one might suggest, and I do, that Barnabas should be the very last person at Collinwood sharing adamant corollaries between Laura’s 18th century painting and the person who lives among them in 1897. Perhaps if Barnabas’ own 20th century cousins were as suspicious as he, then … oh never mind; it’s all far too complicated for my own little mind. And I’m guessing Barnabas’ own portrait was being kept in some storage closet back in 1897. Certainly Edith wouldn’t have had it out and about on display — would she? It’s just better to assume that Barnabas’ portrait is tucked away in the east wing or perhaps, a basement closet where Paul Stoddard’s clothes will live in the future.
Barnabas’ portrait is up in the foyer in 1897; he uses it like a driver’s license when he introduces himself to the family.
Thanks Danny. I got a good laugh out of that. Also, the portrait of PT Angelique is a favorite. I found it mesmerizing in the same way that the 40’s film noir “Laura” used Gene Tierney’s painting to establish character. I always assumed that the parallel time story was a mix of both “Rebecca” and “Laura.”
This summer I picked up an amazing cross-stitch of Barnabas’ portrait at a comic con – completely unexpected and I stood there in shock for a couple of minutes just staring. You can see it here: https://twitter.com/PCabezuelo/status/607600926514421761
It’s since been framed and now hangs in my foyer (actually, just right next to my apartment front door) – no glowing eyes or hearbeat noises yet. Now I’m hoping there are cross-stitch versions of Quentin and Angelique’s portraits somewhere out there.
Oh, that’s lovely, and by lovely I mean deeply strange. What a cool find.
Barnabas Collins knows all about the magic of portraits.
Not only is he a member of Murder Club,
he’s also a member of the rather exclusive group,
The Painted Damned.
I can think of four members.
Five members: Barnabas, Quentin, Laura Collins, Angelique and Josette.
And PT Angelique, if she counts as a separate person. And Betty Hanscomb.
I didn’t think of PT Angelique, but that is a good point.
A case of similar, but different.
I figure PT Angelique is only as old as Lara Parker,
and a separate person, so she counts.
Two Angeliques, each one has different portrait,
plus Barnabas, Quentin and Laura.
Betty Probably wasn’t sinister enough for the Painted Damned,
then again, you never know…..
I didn’t count Josette, because she was good girl.
I was just thinking of evil types.
Sketch of Roxanne? Paint, be damned.
Supposedly the portrait hanging over the present day Collins fireplace is that of Jeremiah Collins, back when he was supposedly a bada** and before his face morphed into that of Anthony George – after all the guy was married to both Josette (and now Laura) and is credited with building Collinwood. I agree with Stephen and don’t lie having all characters/stories revised to suit Barnabas..
Well she haunts her portrait beyond the grave pre-Barnabas years- wallowing in her torment-
I think that counts as damned.
(Amanda Haris doesn’t count because she’s boring ab noxious and unwanted).
Damn. I could watch Amanda Harris’ eyelashes all damn day.
Night, too.
Barnabas saying, “You KNOW that!” was probably supposed to be, “You KNOW that???”
There’s another classic bit of Fridspeak in this episode: “My cousin, Uncle Jeremiah”.
And he dates Laqura’s last death to 1875, not 1775. I wonder how They rearranged that one?…
“And then things go kind of super amazingly impossibly gay.”
You think? Two guys wearing Edwardian suits and that much guyliner? I won’t even go into the coiffures.
And just look at the way Barnabas is looking at Quentin’s mouth…
I straight up thought Barnabas was going to kiss the hell out of Quentin after his longing gaze at his lips. LOL
Might Barnabas also have recollected Liz or Vicky telling him about David’s mother Laura, who tried to take him with her into a fiery death? Surely, he must have asked about who David’s mother was. That would have helped Barnabas tie the three centuries together via Laura.
Another blooper – When Barnabas is reading the journal about Laurs’s death by fire he reads that she dies in 1875. He should have read 1775 if she was (much older) Jeremiah’s first wife.
Diana Millay died this past weekend so it was weird watching them discuss Laura’s death.
Despite the “bang ‘er” jokes in the comments, DS seems to have made a breakthrough a few weeks ago and now everyone pronounces Bangor correctly as “bang – or.” I have my fingers crossed that they don’t drop that particular ball.
Just realised, because of the Laura/Barnabas non-confrontation in the crypt: they could have done some really neat stuff with a battle between a vampire and the emissary of a frickin’ sun god. If there was ever anyone tailor-made to threaten Barnabas Collins, it’s… erm, Laura and Dirk Wilkins.