“He will look for some secret dark womb that will keep him safe.”
So, it’s yesterday, and Barnabas walks into the weird secret jail cell that he keeps behind a bookcase for some reason, and Dirk is gone! He died, and vamped himself right out of stir. Barnabas and Beth are just looking around, not sure what to do with themselves, surprise twist, big crescendo, credits, the end. You know? Yesterday.
And today, Young Danny tunes into New Jersey Network, and what do I see? Barnabas walks into the Old House, and there’s a dead white lady sitting in a chair who I’ve never seen before. Barnabas says, “No. NO!” and then Carl is knocking at the door, saying, “Barnabas? Let me in, I have to talk to Pansy!” And I’m like, who the fuck is Pansy?
So, surprise, turns out that when they first released these episodes for syndication in the mid-80s, Worldvision mislabeled episode 771. They thought it was from June 1968 instead of ’69, so they played it a year too early, right after the ghost of Reverend Trask bricked up Barnabas in the Old House cellar.
When they got to the actual place in the reruns where this episode should be, they skipped it, so I missed the only episode where Pansy Faye appears. But the characters keep on talking about her for the next five months, which was baffling, because as far as I was concerned, she was never on the show in the first place.
This concludes another chapter in the saga of Young Danny in the World Before the Internet. God, it was a nightmare.
But never mind that, this is a fun episode and I’m pretty sure I watched it at some point, because here we are talking about it.
Beth whimpers, “Oh, Barnabas, I’m frightened!” and Barnabas says, “You mustn’t be. We have no time for that!” Because the situation is that urgent, we can’t afford to stop and have feelings about it.
There’s a vampire loose on the great estate — well, two vampires, actually, but it’s the new one that we’re concerned about. Barnabas’ indiscriminate biting of everyone has made the Collins family suspicious, so he came up with a cunning plan — bite Dirk, turn him into a vampire and then let the authorities take care of him. That’s supposed to take the heat off of Barnabas in some cunning way that I can’t quite put my finger on.
But Dirk has died too soon, go figure, and now he’s out there somewhere wreaking havoc. You and I know that Dirk couldn’t possibly cause more trouble than Barnabas was already going to cause anyway, but try telling Barnabas that.
“I did not expect him dying so soon!” Barnabas says, checking the teleprompter, because we have no time for learning dialogue. “Beth, there is much to be done tonight. His dying was part — not a part of my plan!”
It’s marvelous. Barnabas stares relentlessly at the teleprompter for the entire minute-long scene, and as usual, it gives the proceedings a gorgeous sense of crackpot gravitas.
“To know where Dirk was, where he slept,” he continues, sitting down. “So that when the day came, and the vampire had to be found, you could lead them to him.”
He stands up again. “He will look for some secret dark womb that will keep him safe. We must find that place.” Beth asks how, and he looks at the teleprompter again, because he has absolutely no idea.
And then suddenly Carl rushes in — the middle son of the Collins family, back from one of those retrospective vacations that characters take to explain why they haven’t been on the show for two months. He is all atwitter.
“Oh, what a time I’ve had!” Carl moans. “Oh, Barnabas, you’ve got to do this for me, it’s the only way out! I swear it is!”
He sits down on the sofa. “Oh, you just can’t imagine what a time I’ve had, sitting on that train, not sure of what I was going to do or say. And then I thought — Barnabas! — and it made all the difference. I swear it did!”
And Barnabas says, “Carl, what are you talking about?” because Dark Shadows is amazing.
It’s time for another narrative collision, where they take a different kind of story and toss it into the show, just to see what happens. And this is a particularly disruptive collision — coming out of the blue, and completely derailing a thrilling vampire hunt.
Carl has no idea what he’s interrupting, and he couldn’t care less, because he has his own problems, and he doesn’t pay attention when other people talk.
Fumbling with his bag, Carl pulls out a present for Barnabas. “Fresh from Atlantic City, New Jersey,” he announces, “the queen of the boardwalk cities! Salt water taffy. Oh, wait till you taste it. Just one chew, and you think you’re smelling fresh air blowing in from the sea!”
And that’s it, the vampire hunt is over. Barnabas and Beth try to explain that they’re in the middle of something important, but it’s no use. Once you invoke the boardwalk at Atlantic City, you’ve given up on your action-adventure storyline. At this point, the only thing that the audience wants to see is a vampire serial killer politely chewing on a piece of salt water taffy. We never even knew that was an option before.
Television is a medium that thrives on surprise, where the only thing that matters is keeping the audience glued to the couch, waiting to see what happens next. That’s especially true for daytime soap operas, and even more especially true for Dark Shadows, which as of this moment has become the all-time champion surprise factory.
And the really amazing thing about this scene is that the vampire storyline is being interrupted for a sentimental love story, which is what soap operas are supposed to be about in the first place.
“You see, Barnabas, I just thought this would happen never to me.” Carl grins sheepishly. “Well, you know, I just thought I would go through life being one of the Collins brothers — you know, the unmarried one.”
His voice cracks, and it’s gorgeous and melancholy, and John Karlen really is one of the best actors on the show. We believe in Carl.
Barnabas is perplexed. “You’ve gotten married?”
Carl bristles. “Absolutely not! Why, I wouldn’t do anything like that behind my family’s back, as if I were ashamed of it or something! Oh, you don’t know Carl Collins — or, for that matter, Pansy Faye.”
“Pansy Faye?” Barnabas asks, struggling to keep up.
“Yes. You see, she wants a church wedding. Oh, you know how girls are.”
He doesn’t, of course; the only thing that Barnabas knows about girls is how their necks taste. But he’s getting sucked into this new musical comedy melodrama, because he has no choice. Carl Collins has a fiancee from Atlantic City, waiting just outside the door.
Until now, the official Most Interesting Thing on Dark Shadows has been a werewolf attack, which is guaranteed entertainment. But right now, if they tried to cut to a werewolf fighting with Bathia Mapes at the edge of the cliff on Widow’s Hill, the audience would be squirming in their seats, saying, Oh my god, when is this going to be over? I want to see Carl’s fiancee!
And oh my goodness, would you get a load of this.
Carl makes a formal introduction: “Presenting — direct from her triumphs before Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Victoria of England — that world-famous mentalist and most beguiling songstress, Miss Pansy Faye!”
Then we get a saucy musical number, obviously, because that is now a thing that happens on this television show. Pansy Faye sashays her way into the drawing room, singing her signature theme in a non-convincing Cockney accent.
I’m gonna dance for you! Gonna dance your cares away.
I’ll do the hoochie-coo, and the tara-boom-di-ay!
I’ll sing a happy song, as we dance the whole night long!
When the music begins, I’ll give you some spins,
I’ll even invent a step or two!
So, on with the show! You’ll love it, I know!
Oh, I’m going to dance for yoooo-ooo-ooou!
And then we cut to Barnabas, who’s thinking, What the hell has happened to my life?
This is the act break, too — they play a bonnnng! music cue, like this is a moment of urgent suspense.
And I suppose it is, really, because it is entirely possible that they have just irretrievably changed the format of Dark Shadows. How do you even recover from this?
Barnabas tells Pansy that it’s delightful to meet her, but he can’t stay and chat. Dirk has disappeared mysteriously, and they need to go out and look for him.
Then Carl gets an idea, which he says is the perfect way to introduce Pansy to Judith.
“Honestly, Carl, the way you go on about that sister of yours,” Pansy chuckles, settling herself permanently on the furniture. “I’m sure she’s just as nice as she can be. Sometimes I think you’re afraid of her.”
So that’s how we know where this narrative collision comes from. Carl has an unsuitable chorus girl fiancee, and he’s coming up with a scheme to introduce her to his terrifying older sister. This is a P.G. Wodehouse novel.
Now, if you’re not familiar with P.G. Wodehouse, then what the hell is even the matter with you. He’s one of the great English writers of the 20th century, specializing in comic novels and short stories. In the US, he’s mostly known for his stories about the dim Bertie Wooster and his gentleman’s personal gentleman, Jeeves. He also wrote a long series about Blandings Castle, one of those stately homes where impostors get themselves invited to stay so they can steal a pig, or woo one of the young ladies of the house, or both.
Wodehouse wrote more than 90 books, and at this exact moment in Young Danny’s life, I was absolutely obsessed with him. I had three great passions in high school — Dark Shadows, Doctor Who and P.G. Wodehouse. In my junior year, I did a three-week student exchange program with a school in London, just so I could track down all the Wodehouse books that were out of print in America. I was a pretty intense kid.
And this plot point is straight out of Blandings Castle. Carl is clearly a member of the Drones Club, a soft-minded Freddie or Bingo, who’s gotten mixed up with some dreadful chorus girl. If her name is Mabel or Flossie, then Carl probably isn’t going to marry her at the end of the book; if her name is Sally or Jane, then he probably will; and if she’s named Susan, then she’s probably a detective or a jewel thief. That’s how things work in Wodehouse stories — he wrote the same handful of books over and over, with different names and professions, and they’re worth reading anyway because he’s brilliant.
Carl is trying to get his fiancee accepted by his older sister, one of those formidable Wodehouse matrons called Constance or Dora or Aunt Agatha, and he’s turning to an older relative — Galahad, let’s say, or Uncle Fred — to help him pull it off.
Now, this is one of those narrative collision posts where I can’t actually prove that Sam Hall was thinking of Blandings Castle when he invented Pansy Faye; nobody ever mentions it in the list of classics that Dark Shadows mined for story points. But how else could you account for her? They started with the idea of “Carl’s unsuitable fiancee” and landed on a Cockney music hall singer. She’s not from Bram Stoker or Edgar Allen Poe. She’s not even from New Jersey.
There’s certainly no in-universe explanation for her. How could this woman leave London, and book passage on a ship to Atlantic City in the 1890s? The only way you could transport her here is in a cloud of narrativium, because you feel like stealing from Wodehouse today.
Plus, Pansy tells Beth that she wasn’t sure whether to believe Carl’s description of Collinwood — “like a castle, he says” — and in my opinion that proves everything, case closed. So there.
We’re also short on in-universe explanations for her psychic powers, but that’s par for the course on Dark Shadows. It’s hard to predict which characters will have the uncanny ability to access the spirit world, because the answer appears to be “anybody who tries succeeds.”
We’ve hardly ever seen somebody put together a seance, trance or summoning ritual and not get some kind of information out of it. The only real failure I can think of is Evan and Quentin calling on Satan last month, and even that had a dramatic payoff.
So this is the other half of the narrative collision, the thing that interrupts the musical-comedy interruption, and brings us back to Dark Shadows.
Pansy isn’t just a singer — she also does a mentalist act, closing her eyes and making things up. Carl believes in her powers, of course, so he decides this is the way to introduce Pansy to the family — she’ll help them find the missing Dirk, and Judith will be so grateful that she’ll accept this frightful new sister-in-law.
So Pansy makes contact with the other side, screaming “Dirk Wilkins is dead, and his murderer is in this room!” and then fainting. When she revives, she doesn’t remember what she said, and all of a sudden she realizes that she’s brushed up against something hot.
“That’s really scary, isn’t it?” she says. “I mean, not to remember — that’s not happened to me before.” But the ley lines are so strong around here that even the comic relief characters get drawn into the intrigue. Blandings Castle meets Collinwood in this episode, and it doesn’t win.
Then there’s a Chromakey bat on a stick, and Pansy is dead. Just wait till Young Danny sees this; he’s going to love this episode.
Tomorrow: Nothing Lasts.
Dark Shadows bloopers to watch out for:
When Carl suggests that Pansy can find Dirk, Barnabas says, “I don’t see any reason to make Miss Faye do our work for us. I’m sure that we’ll find him, after we look for a few places.”
Carl says that he wants to help find Dirk, and Judith says, “Dirk, you know — Carl, you know nothing about it.”
Behind the Scenes:
Pansy is played (briefly) by Kay Frye. As far as I can tell, this was her first credit; for all I know, she never acted before in her life. You wouldn’t think something like Kay Frye could just happen spontaneously, but there you are. After Dark Shadows, Kay was in a TV-movie called The Coming Asunder of Jimmy Bright. She also had a small role in Shamus, a 1973 Burt Reynolds movie, and in a 1975 ABC Afterschool Special called It Must Be Love Cause I Feel So Dumb. After that, I suppose she just got out of everyone’s hair.
Tomorrow: Nothing Lasts.
— Danny Horn
63 thoughts on “Episode 771: The Mentalist”
And now my Sadly True, Awfully Wretched Pansy Faye Story:
“I’m gonna dance for you! Gonna dance your cares away.”
Years ago, before the Internet, I met a great guy who was just as much into Dark Shadows as I was. It was like finding a unicorn in a leather bar.
“I’m gonna dance for you! Gonna dance your cares away.”
His favorite character was…Pansy Faye. And he sang this song ALL THE DAMN TIME.
Yeah, we didn’t last long.
Well at least Pansy’s dead so we won’t have to hear that song anymore…
Oh, I’m pretty sure we’ll hear it a lot more over the next few months. cough Charity Trask* cough.
Well at least we won’t have to listen to fake Cockney accents anymore…
Kay Frye is in my second favorite DARK SHADOWS episode (the first is upcoming). Her farewell performance is creepy Violet Welles awesomeness.
I’m fine with the song in controlled doses. I do wonder if Pansy’s “return” was planned to last as long as it did. Originally, it was part of a “see your true self” Petofi gambit and later became in essence the “murder” of Charity Trask. People call her “insane” but she’s not — she’s literally another person now.
The Charity/Pansy soul flip is DS misogyny at its worst, IMHO – the repressed Puritan turned into a theatrical party girl, a mean joke that goes on far too long. Charity may be a prig, but that’s not enough to justify her fate.
Well, it is the villain’s — Petofi’s — doing. I do think that Pansy is presented as a kinder person than Charity deep down, which is its own cliche, I suppose.
The “repressed Puritan turned into a theatrical party girl” is a pretty big cliché. I wouldn’t mind that, but it’s one of those clichés that usually get away with being one, without people “calling them on it.”
That trope is pretty much a standard in porno movies, so I am told.
Also: Beth as Barnabas’s sidekick in these episodes always seems somewhat off. It feels like it’s intended for Magda and Beth is a convenient stand-in.
Beth is loyal to Barnabas primarily because he bit her, and she is under his control.
I was always under the impression that Charity liked being Pansy. And I never tire of her song. Never.
Yeah and I can’t see Pansy EVER putting a little kid into a punishment closet and starving him cause his homework wasn’t neat enough.
Nor do I, any version of it.
I think you’re right about Wodehouse being an influence in today’s episode. But, I wonder if a secondary one was in trying to get another “hit Single” going like Quentin’s Theme?
“I’m gonna dance with you” is from Dan Curtis’s “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” TV movie from 1968 and in that it was sung by a London Saloon girl. So I wonder if that influenced what type of girl the character of Pansy Faye was going to be as well.
Oh! That’s very interesting, I didn’t know that was from the Dr. Jekyll movie. That’s where Quentin’s theme came from, too. I should probably be watching the contemporary Dan Curtis productions. Ah well, something for the Dark Shadows Every Day director’s cut.
You could save that viewing for the Parallel Time episodes, I recall reading that Chris Pennock is actually wearing the Jack Palance Mr. Hyde Make-up in his first transformation, but it didn’t look that good so they dropped it.
(they must have kept the Dick Smith prosthetics in the fridge or something)
Yeah, Pennock said that the nose would start peeling off while on-camera.
Yes, no doubt the Dan Curtis Jekyll and Hyde remake, which I just acquired recently on DVD, will, and should, be referenced in blog posts when we get to PT 1970. The Cyrus Longworth/John Yaeger story is taken, practically verbatim, from Curtis’ movie adaptation–right down to the type of side entrance into Longworth’s lab, the man who supplies the chemicals for the transformation, the manner in which Yaeger eventually dispatches him, everything. Curtis must have figured, Why waste a good story, even for a television remake?
Oh, good point. Yeah, I’ll have to track it down. My current dillemma is that I need to find Curtis’ “Dead of Night: A Darkness at Blaisedon” sometime in the next couple months, and I don’t know where to start.
Danny, Darkness at Blaisedon is an extra on the Dead of Night TV Movie DVD, still in circulation http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Night-Jr-Ed-Begley/dp/B001HPOJ68/ref=sr_1_1?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1448036047&sr=1-1&keywords=dead+of+night
I have it so I can confirm it’s on there. The TV Movie is actually pretty good too, especially the final segment, ‘Bobby’.
The ending of ‘Bobby’ creeped me out, big-time when I was young.
Here’s that last scene,
DON’T look if you don’t like
SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!
I haven’t seen it in quite some time, but they picked two actors who were just right for the story – Lee Montgomery, who was very good in spooky things (like Dan Curtis’ Burnt Offerings), and Joan Hackett, who always seemed so good at playing neurotic characters.
Oh, didn’t realize it was the same kid in Burnt Offerings. Haven’t seen that in a while but I did recently buy the bluray – now I just have to watch it.
And Richard, I agree about the ending. That and the final segment in Trilogy of Terror are probably the scariest things Curtis did.
The only place she appears?
What about her farewell performance dream sequence?
And Whoo…..is…the VAMPIAH?????!!!!
I love the way Carl Collins, master of the inappropriate, drops his Pansy bomb on Barnabas at the worst possible time, and is totally oblivious to it.
Is this Tarantinoesque or Seinfeldian? A shocking twist, out-of-left-field, or is it Cosmo Kramer flying into Jerry’s apartment, just as Jerry is trying to deal with George, who is now a vampire, (George is upset, and refuses to come out of his coffin).
Either way, it’s hilariously awkward, out of the frying pan, into the fire. A real test of Cousin Barnabas’s nerves, our gracious and almost serene host to one of Dark Shadows more eventful evenings.
And Pansy Faye is such a strange girl, but I think she’s great.
I love it when something that looks fake, turns out to be real.
I forgive give Carl for the intrusion, because that outfit totally rocks. I usually like darker clothes, but it’s the same color as his hair, so I give them points for coordinating.
It may be 1897, but he could pass for a 1969 rock star with no problem.
I think eccentric rock star Brian Jones of The Rolling Stones would have gotten a kick out of the plaid coat and tie, although he was a little more into pinstripes, Capone chic. Unfortunately, he died mysteriously about one month after this episode first aired.
So the actual “I’m gonna dance with you” IS the Quentin/Charity dream sequence?
Who performs it?
Sounds like maybe 1941……
Did the research, and the upcoming dream sequence is an entirely Selby&Barrett production, but it does sound like the 1940s……maybe 30s.
If that is what they were going for, they nailed it.
And all this time, I had thought it was an adaptation of some old song in public domain.
Since Dan Curtis would NEVER want to use music he didn’t OWN.
The one time that happened, that I remember, was when Adam wanted music,
And Carolyn turned on the radio……I forget what it was……an instrumental…..from the sixties……..like Theme From A Summer Place, or something like that.
The sixties were the only time in memory where instrumentals were hits.
Movie themes. Even the X-rated ones.
Research says..”A Man And A Woman.” French.
Great inside joke, but is it public domain?
Hard to believe that Dan paid for that.
Now, I wonder if DS plays in France, dubbed.
I swear there’s an early episode where there’s an instrumental version of The Girl From Ipanema playing at the Blue Whale. And don’t forget, Dan had to pay for the first version of Josette’s music box theme – which is why they got rid of I believe.
He said something like, “Where did we get that?”
“From network archives.”
“Cobert, write me a new one.”
And Cobert wrote a simpler version of the same thing, but more memorable.
Which played maybe a thousand times it seemed, so that nobody remembered the old one, and I’m betting that he never paid a dime.
The Blue Whale jukebox also played instrumental versions of The Beatles’ “She’s a Woman” and Petula Clark’s “My Love.”
There were a couple non-Robert Cobert songs played at the Blue Whale in pre-Barnabas episodes. And, of course, they changed Josette’s music box theme to something similar but original because the first one they used was not owned by Curtis.
I prefer the original version. I didn’t know until years later why it changed, but now it all makes sense.
Naturally I had to comment on a Wodehouse-emphasizing recap (although I also enjoyed your use of “pleasant and instructive afternoon” awhile back, Danny).
In fact, Carl’s entrance, oblivious to whatever the room’s occupants are doing, reminds me of Gussie Fink-Nottle (and others) repeatedly bursting into Bertie’s room in “Code of the Woosters” (Gussie’s plans make Barnabas seem practical, i.e. deciding it’s both prudent and seemly to retrieve an object by grasping the stockings of your fiancee’s cousin; Quentin would do it for fun, Gussie because he makes Bertie seem like a genius).
Now we just need to learn that Edward has a prized goose named the Collinswood Countess.
“Now, if you’re not familiar with P.G. Wodehouse, then what the hell is even the matter with you. ”
This may be the best line ever on this entire blog. And it’s funny because it’s TRUE!
The family’s response to Pansy, their reading and expressions, say to me, “Just how did SHE get cast?”
IMDB has Kay Frye’s birthday as 1928 which would have put her at 40 or 41 when she was on Dark Shadows. If that’s true she still looked amazingly young for her age. She also died relatively young at 63.
Oops! You have conflated Kay Frye (I) with Kay Frye (II). The latter has no birth date or death date listed but was probably born about 1940 or so. (Guessing.)
This is what i found, but I still can’t answer birth, marriage or death questions about her:
Although she never got to Broadway, Kay Frye was in a lot of plays elsewhere, especially in Atlanta, Georgia, where she was often paired with Broadway actor Joel Fabiani. Both of them were said by the Atlanta Constitution to have a big local following there.
Kay apparently toured in 1968 tryouts with the Broadway-bound (but short-lived) comedy “My Daughter, Your Son,” starring Vivian Vance and Dody Goodman, but Kay was replaced by Lee Lawson before the play got to New York.
In a couple of interviews she gave to the Atlanta Constitution, Kay revealed, among other things, that she grew up in York, Pennsylvania, attended the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, lived on West 54th Street in New York, and loved cooking and poker, both of which she learned from her mother.
Her boyfriend was identified as “the singer James Hurst,” presumably the singer-actor remembered for singing on variety shows including “Ed Sullivan” and guest parts on shows like “77 Sunset Strip” and at least three Broadway plays including “Li’l Abner” in which he was understudy for the title role. He seems to have appeared more often on other stages, including the Los Angeles Civic Light Opera. He is actually identified in the newspaper as her fiancé, but I do not know whether they married.
Bertie and Jeeves remind me of Archer and Woodhouse. I wonder if there’s a connection?
going back to pansy’s psychic act suddenly becoming real, the ley lines at Collinwood and ease of conjuring, who says that Evan and Quinten did not succeed in summoning The Devil? Trask appearing at that moment was not a coincidence.
Thanks for the P.G. Wodehouse connection. I love Wodehouse’s writings, as well as the brilliant Hugh Laurie/Stephen Fry dramatizations. Carl is the perfect dim-bulb Wodehouse character. Falling in love with completely unsuitable woman, he reminds me of Bingo Little. As you so aptly said Danny, “Now, if you’re not familiar with P.G. Wodehouse, then what the hell is even the matter with you.”
I’m thinking, if Pansy Faye wouldn’t have been killed, she would have been as popular as Barnabus or Quentin on the show. Tara-boom-di-ay!
Oh! and I’m going to dance for yoooo-ooo-ooou!
I believe that Dan Curtis did have to pay for using “A Man and a Woman,” “The Girl From Ipanema” (one of my guilty favorites) and “Happy Birthday.” In the last case, I’ll bet Curtis didn’t realize he was going to have pay for the birthday song. “That’s not in the public domain?!” It is now.
Pansy’s admission to Beth that Carl’s saying that he lives in a virtual castle was the main attraction confirms that she is a solid-gold gold digger (or “adventuress” as Joshua would have said).
Not to re- or overstate the obvious any further, but Pansy is as surprised as anyone that she went into an actual trance. This trope reminds me of some other – perhaps several other – stories about fake mediums who get surprise visits from the actual supernatural. (E.g., Whoopie Goldberg in “Ghost.”)
Re: “Happy Birthday to You”: Dan Curtis almost definitely did not have to pay royalties for the song. This really wasn’t an issue until Warner Music claimed it was under copyright in 1988, long after DS.
Thanks for the correction.
Looks as if Pansy was bitten AND garotted. Can we say “overkill”?
I’m watching a TV series from New Zealand called “Brokenwood Mysteries” and there I heard a relevant line recently. The detective asks if garroting isn’t a bit medieval, and the medical examiner says, “Some things are timeless.”
“And then we cut to Barnabas who’s thinking “What the hell has happened to my life?!””
PERFECT commentary, that line. In a show that takes so many twists and deadman curves, the unexpected introduction of Pansy Fay and a musical comedy number on Dark Shadows was positively insane. Did Sam Hall drop a few mikes of LSD before going to work in the Writers Room that day?
“I really want to prepare Judith so that my Pansy is shown to her best advantage!”
Carl Collins is ADORABLE. Cute, funny and easily distracted by salt water taffy; every home should have one.
Oh my gosh-Carl as Bertie Wooster or one of his friends! Didn’t make that connection with DS at all, but now I see it.
Since the late 1990’s, when I first saw this ep and every ep after it, I have on occasion been prone to spontaneously break out in song with the late 1890’s hit number “I’m gonna dance for you” in a badly feigned Cockney accent, and I highly recommend doing the same if you really want people to notice you.
I loved Pansy! I hope that’s not the end of her (I skimmed through the comments so as not to spoil anything for myself). Carl breaking in on Barnabas and Beth was hilarious and you’re exactly on point with Barnabas’ reaction.
It’s very odd that I happened upon this episode this week as it’s the 50th anniversary of the airing of Bewitched episode #218: “The House that Uncle Arthur Built” wherein practical joking Uncle Arthur has decided to give up his jokes for a woman…JUST LIKE CARL! However the Bewitched episode happens in Feb 1971 so maybe the writers of Bewitched took notes from this episode.
It’s also odd that we seem to be watching these episodes in sync. Hubby and I just watched this one, too. 🙂
I’m glad I’m not the only one so far behind. I watch about two episodes on my lunch break during the week.
Yes! Wodehouse is my favorite author! Gussie with his newts and his spiked orange juice can cheer me up no matter what’s going on in the world. I knew I loved this blog for a reason.
Wodehouse forever! If anyone is still in lockdown or has to quarantine, settle down with Jeeves and Wooster and toy9 won’t even notice that you can’t go out.
Sigh. “toy9” should have been “you.”
I’m glad someone brought up accents. Kaye Frye’s Pansy Faye (I assume no relation to Tammy) has the vaguest of Cockney accents.
When the 1897 timeline began, it seemed like John Karlen was trying to posh up Carl Collins’s accent a bit to match the rest of the family, but that soon devolved into Karlen’s own/Willie Loomis Brooklyn accent.
Finally, let’s talk about Magda. Grayson Hall slips up a lot, but usually lays the Hungarian accent on thick, if not always accurately. Oddly enough, all Hall needed to do to hear the real deal was to tune into CBS, where Eva Gabor was in her fourth season of Green Acres by early 1969.
I can’t understand all the dissing here about Pansy Faye. I thought the character was a real hoot! And John Karlen’s manic acting as Carl was great to watch. Jonathan Frid’s flabbergasted expression at Pansy’s antics seems genuine!
The Wodehouse connection makes me immediately think of Barnabas as a murderous yet incompetent Jeeves, which will make the “kindly butler Barnabas” period of 1968 much more interesting in retrospect…
Greetings from the future. Am I nuts, or in this episode, is Carl uncannily like Oliver from “Only Murders in the Building”? Also green flappy bat is bliss.