BARNABAS AND ME

By Greg Lamberson

"My name is Victoria Winters. A stranger has come to Collinwood..."
—Alexandra Isles (1968)
—Joanna Going (1990)

"This nut thinks he's a vampire!" —Darren McGavin (1972)

Other than whoever authorized production of Aurora's monster model kits, and my mother, who allowed me to stay up late on school nights to watch the movies that inspired those kits, the person who most influenced my love for horror entertainment was producer-director Dan Curtis.

When I was four years old, my viewing pleasures were largely restricted to the fare offered on two Buffalo kids' shows: ROCKETSHIP 7 in the morning, and THE COMMANDER TOM SHOW in the afternoon. Both shows featured human hosts (Dave Thomas on ROCKET and Tom Jolls as TOM; both were local weathermen) interacting with puppet sidekicks, a la MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATRE 3000.

One afternoon, after returning home from nursery school, I sat down at my godmother's house with a bowl of cereal and saw something incredible: a live action show had been incorporated into COMMANDER TOM in place of the usual cartoons, and at the climax of this particular episode, a man who was having his portrait painted transformed into a werewolf!

The show was DARK SHADOWS, the daytime gothic soap opera produced by Dan Curtis for ABC-TV, then in syndicated repeats. DARK SHADOWS dealt with the cursed Collins family, who resided in Collinwood Manor, in the New England fishing village Collinsport (predating Stephen King's vampire invasion of Salem's Lot, set in Maine).

In the series, Curtis and his writers created a story device which has since become a cliché: Barnabas, pining away over his lost love Josette, keeps her portrait above his mantle and seeks to resurrect her spirit in the bodies of young women in Collinsport (first governess Victoria Winters, then barmaid Maggie Evans). Curtis liked this concept so much that he revisited it in the DARK SHADOWS feature and his version of DRACULA, and Tom Holland borrowed the idea for FRIGHT NIGHT, Francis Ford Coppola for BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA.

I was too young to know or comprehend the mania that accompanied that legendary series when Curtis, in an effort to combat declining ratings, added the character of Barnabas Collins, the lovesick vampire, to the daily show. Jonathan Frid, the Shakespearean actor who portrayed the melancholy 200 year old, joined Leonard Nimoy and David McCallum as unlikely sex symbols of the 1960's TV landscape.

I believe that the man who transformed into a werewolf that afternoon was Quentin Collins, Barnabas's lycanthropic cousin, played by David Selby (who would go on to play Richard Channing Denault on the ready-for-primetime soap, FALCON CREST). I say I believe that this character was Quentin because 1) there were other werewolves on DARK SHADOWS; and 2) because angry parents succeeded in having the SHADOWS repeats yanked from TOM's command. We live in a society governed by the interests of children, after all.

But those irate parents—who I picture storming the local ABC affiliate with blazing torches—were too late. The damage to my fragile mind had already been done. I bought the Barnabas Collins model kit, of course, and several issues of the Gold Key comic book, and a half-dozen or so spinoff novels. But it would be decades before I viewed actual episodes of the soap that inspired them.

Dan Curtis was the Man, and he found many other ways to corrupt and terrify me, mostly through a series of 90-minute TV movies known as THE ABC TV MOVIE OF THE WEEK. In 1972, Curtis produced THE NIGHT STALKER, based on an unpublished novel, The Kolchak Papers, by Jeff Rice (it's been published several times since then), adapted by the great fantasist Richard Matheson, with whom Curtis would collaborate on several other productions, and directed by John Llewelyn Moxy (who also helmed THE HOUSE THAT WOULD NOT DIE). Darren McGavin starred as Carl Kolchak (Karl in the novel), a down on his luck reporter who took on a vampire—and oppressive authoritie—in seedy Las Vegas.

THE NIGHT STALKER left an indelible impression on my brain. The next day in school, all the discussed it. Curtis knew a good thing when he saw it, and the following year he directed THE NORLISS TAPES, in which Roy Thinnes (THE INVADERS) played another reporter who stumbled upon the supernatural. But Thinnes was no McGavin, and that same year, ABC ordered up a Kolchak sequel, THE NIGHT STALKER, which Curtis directed himself. The success of the sequel led to a weekly series, minus Curtis's involvement. The campy series lacked Curtis's penchant for verisimilitude, and died after only 20 episodes (though it will live on forever on cable TV, largely due to McGavin's winning poerformance). It inspired Chris Carter to create THE X-FILES, which had a much healthier run.

Curtis continued to mine the genre with low budget, shot-on-video adaptations of THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL & MR. HYDE, THE TURN OF THE SCREW, THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY, and FRANKENSTEIN; small screen originals like SCREAM OF THE WOLF, CURSE OF THE BLACK WIDOW, and DEAD OF NIGHT; big screen films such as NIGHT OF DARK SHADOWS, HOUSE OF DARK SHADOWS, and BURNT OFFERINGS; and an acclaimed adaptation of DRACULA, adapted by Matheson and starring Jack Palance, filmed as a theatrical but released on television.

Curtis made perhaps his greatest contribution to the genre with the 1975 ABC TV movie, TRILOGY OF TERROR. The telefilm features three adaptations of Richard Matheson short stories. Matheson adapted the first two—"Julie" and "Millicent and Therese"—himself, while William F. Nolan adapted the third—"Amelia"—from Matheson's short story, "Prey." You know the one I mean: the one with the killer "Zuni fetish" doll that goes psycho on an unsuspecting Karen Black.

"Amelia" is still one of the scariest films ever made, and "He Who Kills," as the doll is called, is more terrifying than Chucky and all of the Puppet Master's creations combined. This segment is the stuff of nightmares, and it ensures Curtis a permanent spot in the Horror Hall of Fame. As scary as that little doll is, who can ever forget the final image of Black, as Amelia, possessed by the doll's spirit, grinning at the camera as she strikes the floor with a knife, waiting for her mother to arrive...for dinner?

Curtis worked outside the genre as well. His ABC TV movies include the crime dramas MELVIN PURVIS—G-MAN, THE GREAT ICE RIP-OFF, and THE KANSAS CITY MASSACRE. And he achieved mainstream success with the epic ABC miniseries, THE WINDS OF WAR and its sequel, WAR AND REMEMBERANCE, based on the Herman Wouk.

But the man was born to terrify, and you can't keep a good vampire down. In 1990, he produced and directed a lavish revival of DARK SHADOWS starring Ben Cross as a younger (in appearance, anyway) Barnabas, and Barbara Steele as Dr. Julia Hoffman. The primetime series was faithful to the original, albeit faster paced. While creatively satisfying, NBC axed the show, which ended with a cliffhanger. Bastards.

Curtis also revived his Zuni fetish doll in a cable TV sequel, TRILOGY OF TERROR II, starring Lysette Anthony (who palyed the witch Angelique in the DARK SHADOWS revival). Recently, he developed a theatrical remake of THE NIGHT STALKER for New Line Cinema, with Nick Nolte in mind as Kolchak. I'm glad this one never came to be; Darren McGavin owns that role.

The WB recently announced production of a new version of DARK SHADOWS, to be co-produced by Curtis and John Welles (E.R., THE WEST WING). Since the WB targets the youth market, I have a nagging suspicion that Barnabas will be even younger than he was in the NBC version. After all, he may have to compete with ANGEL for viewers.

Regardless of how this new venture fares, Curtis's work is well preserved: THE NIGHT STALKER and THE NIGHT STRANGLER are available as a double feature DVD from Anchor Bay, which also released TRILOGY OF TERROR; THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL & MR. HYDE, DRACULA, THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY, and THE TURN OF THE SCREW are also available. Curtis is said to be restoring 20 minutes of deleted scenes for a DVD of HOUSE OF DARK SHADOWS. Gauntlet Press is finally releasing its limited edition hardcover of THE KOLCHAK SCRIPTS, which includes Richard Matheson's teleplays for the two Kolchak films, as well as the script for an unproduced third telefilm, THE NIGHT KILLER, which he co-wrote with William F. Nolan. And our favorite reporter continues to appear in a series of graphic novels from Moonstone.

Curtis provided genuine chills to young horror fans unable to attend R-rated movies. Barnabas Collins, Carl Kolchak, and the Zuni fetish doll are horror icons who filled a void between the classic Universal monsters and the slashers of the 80's and 90's.