Poisoned Pen

Hello, I am the Collinwood Kook, and I enjoy getting upset at meaningless details.

Victoria Winters has not left Collinwood for a few days. She departed last night, and is going home this evening. She has been gone one day.

But that’s part of the slack I’m giving to new writer Ron Sproat, who is already paying for himself via soapy dialogue, intense relationship writing, and a comprehensive knowledge of prior events on this program, which seems like it should be a given, but you’d be surprised.

That’s not to say Sproat is perfect. Then again, I’m not sure anybody would be able to make Fricktoria work out.

Frank Garner is supposed to be the Nice Guy option for Vicky, in contrast to Burke. The trouble is, he’s nice in the way any guy who calls himself nice is nice. He has the air of a guy who, while he wouldn’t roofie your drink at a college party, would laugh in a slightly exasperated manner as one of his buddies did. He looks like he calls it “vaginal intercourse”. He owns Jordan Peterson’s book. He thinks mustard is ‘zesty’. He will go on for hours about Kierkegaard and is certain you want to hear about it. He isn’t entirely sure which end babies come out of and is in no hurry to find out. Oh, and have we mentioned his podcast…?

So, yeah, we do not care for Frank Garner. Sorry.

Reminder that he originally told Victoria he’d dive into the files right after their first meeting this morning, so I wouldn’t put much stock in his commitment to the cause.

Act I of today’s episode is primarily devoted to Frank being the latest in a long line of characters to act like a complete tool to Victoria.

It all begins when she admits to him that…

I’m not kidding, by the way.

It’s not like he’s the first person to express incredulity to this story. Just about everybody who’s heard it has, and by now almost the entire cast has heard it. It’s just that this is right after being positioned as Victoria’s pal and confidant. Burke was also dismissive and rude, but he’s always like that, so it was expected. Would it have been so hard to make the “nice guy”…nice?

Not sure, but I’m gonna try with regard to this very long recap sequence. Since Vicky is telling Frank nothing we, the audience, don’t already know, I will leave out her end of it entirely, preserving only Frank’s commentary, so you get an idea of just what kind of fellow he is:

I don’t think you need me to tell you what a bad look this is. He continually and increasingly closes the distance between him and her, every comment he makes having this haughty tone of intellectual disapproval as he dismisses every single thing she says, only to reach the conclusion that she dreamed the whole thing, speaking with such authority as if he’s known her his entire life instead of less than a day.

Poor Victoria is flustered and maybe even a little embarrassed at this ordeal. I’d tell her that she doesn’t have to justify explain her seaweed apparition to this creep, but we are separated from the weight of decades and, anyway, I think her rebuttal is snazzier:

I love this description of Collinwood as this otherworldly place, ethereal and detached from the more sensible, rational “real world”. It really does feel as if Victoria has gotten away from that place this week, that Bangor, represented here with its classy hotel restaurant and suited lawyers, is a different, less fantastical place. And, because of that, less threatening. There is no danger here, but there is danger back at the old house on Widows’ Hill. And it’s a danger Victoria knows she will have to face when she gets back. It creates this perfect, undefined tension, laden with the expectation of something…even if we don’t know what it is.

I think that’s why I enjoy Vicky’s little one-week sojourn to Bangor, despite what you may have gathered from my bitching these last few episodes. It’s a soft reset for the character of Victoria Winters, and it presents again what she has that the Collinses don’t: she could leave, if she wanted.

But she won’t. And this tiresome conversation with this loathsome man underscores why that is.

*wow, holy hell, just imagine saying that to someone you just met, where the hell do you even get off…*

But Vicky tells Frank she is thinking about herself, indeed…

And she does. Vicky doesn’t yet understand why she feels that way, or how she belongs. When Frank wonders if she wants to be a Collins, she can’t honestly answer yes or no. but she feels the answer is there.

And maybe it’s in line with Sproat’s non-answer from last episode: maybe she won’t ever find out the truth, the real truth. But in the absence of fact…maybe just the feeling will suffice.

In short: maybe the real Vicky’s Past were the friends we made along the way.

Frank isn’t the first person to laugh at Vicky’s search for herself. He isn’t even the first prospective love interest to do that. Still, I’m taking special umbrage because, and I can’t state this enough…

He’s supposed to be the nice one.

I honestly thought he was going to make Vicky being a directionless orphan about himself and start talking about his privileged upbringing again but, no, he’s just lucky he met her today. Which isn’t much better, I might add.

‘Armchair detective’ is one of those phrases you have to use very carefully, because your sympathies will change depending on who’s calling themselves an armchair detective. Is it a kindly old spinster lady who loves mystery novels and relishes the opportunity to find out who put that body in the library? Aces. We love it. We stan. Great job. When is her Lifetime Original Movie coming out?

But if some blue-shoes Harvard type holding a hilariously small cognac glass starts describing himself as an ‘armchair detective’, the average person at least rolls their eyes in flagrant distaste. It’s not cute that this guy wants to solve mysteries. He has a trust fund. He probably has benefitted in some way from insider trading. If he wants to solve a mystery, he should start with the Cambodian girls his father keeps taking to the private island in the Caribbean.

You know it’s bad when Burke enters with his purse dog James Blair and I’m actually looking forward to it.

If this is the kind of banter I’m to expect from these guys’ romantic rivalry, I’d have sooner we just skipped right to the Burktoria wedding. At least when Joe and Burke get into it with each other, Joe appears to be an underdog. Frank is just some overgrown prep school kid.

Also, it was a grilled cheese sandwich. Jesus.

Burke informs Vicky he’ll be ready to drive back up to Collinsport after he concludes his meeting with Blair. Frank is disappointed, not because Vicky is leaving tonight (he already knew that), but because he’d been hoping to drive her the full 50 miles himself.

I know she’s framing this as an inconvenience to him, but I want to believe that there’s a part of the old New York spirit in Vicky that, even if she didn’t believe it would “put him out”, she would never in a million years get into a car with a man she just met to drive 50 miles at night.

Of course, she did get into a car with Burke the very first night she got to Collinsport which, in fact, inspired this whole Not New York Victoria gag to begin with, so who knows.

Just gonna let Alexandra Moltke’s expression do the talking here.

Vicky attempts to escape…I mean pay the bill, but first Frank wonders if he can ask a “nosy and personal question”, as if this is the first time he’s made such an attempt today.

Now, if Vicky were really from New York, the immediate response to this would be “None of your damn business”. Alternately, if she’s getting the vibes the audience is getting, it might be a good idea to pretend Burke is her boyfriend just to get this loser creep off her neck.

But this is still Dark Shadows and we’re supposed to believe Vicky is honestly charmed by this guy for some reason, presumably because she doesn’t get out very much, so she answers honestly and says she and Burke are no more than friends.

If Frank were honestly some sort of competent, intelligent, “logical” young man, Vicky confessing that Burke both frightens her and seems capable of great violence might be a red flag. Maybe he’d protest to her driving back to town with him, not just because of his boner, but because he’s honestly worried for her safety. However, he’s only logical in the way, oh, a writer at the Federalist is. As far as humanity goes, he’s shallower than a thimble.

A Monopoly thimble.

So he simply tells Vicky she sounds intrigued by all this, maybe at the some time wishing he were violent and cruel so that girls would pay more attention to him.

Dude, what the Christ is this, even? When Vicky points out these are very blunt questions, Frank quips that, as a lawyer, he knows such questions are the best way to get straight answers. You know lawyers, known for their direct, logical questions.

The male population of Collinsport is 1/3 closeted, 1/3 eligible for Medicaid, and 1/3 both of those things, so it actually works out.

Frank escorts Vicky back to the lobby so she can pack her bag to check out of the hotel and so he can finally, mercifully, check out of the episode. Before then, however, he has one more invasive question to ask:

Victoria is a little taken aback, but she does say ‘yes’ to him. Maybe it’s a genuinely charmed and romantic ‘yes’, or maybe it’s the kind of ‘yes’ you give just to, again, get this creep off your goddamn neck. It’s hard to tell, but one way or another I think Conard Fowkes failed the chem test.

Mind you, Alexandra Moltke and Mitch Ryan don’t have that much better chemistry, but at least they seem like they could be friendly with each other. Vicky and Frank just seem like two people making increasingly awkward conversation at a bus stop.

Anyway, Fricktoria shuffle on out, allowing us to reorient the narrative on the other unfortunate couple dining in the restaurant.

It turns out that, whatever Sproat’s talents, business storylines are not one of them. He can join the club.

Burke was going to Bangor for business, and it seems this sit down with Blair is it. A brief refresher in case you somehow forgot the last checkpoint this story clocked last week: Burke is attempting to buy the defunct Logansport cannery so he can go into competition with the Collinses. He is at the same time attempting to poach some of the Collins plant’s best men to come work with him. Liz found out about this thanks both to a call from Mr. Garner, Frank’s Dad, and a visit from the amiable, if hatchet-faced Amos Fitch, the only one of the top fishermen not to be ensnared by Burke and Blair’s promises of a livable wage or…whatever was going on there. A lot of the narrative got lost because Mitch was drunk on set and forgot half his lines.

Anyway, it’s the night after that meeting and Blair and Burke are here discussing the various developments since then…Of which there don’t seem to be any. It turns out that nobody else has made another bid on the cannery. It’s literally just Burke. He wonders if the Logansport people, whoever they are, expect Liz to pitch in for a more lucrative bid in an attempt to stave Burke off.

Burke wonders if it’s a question of money.

You don’t say. What the hell kind of dialogue even was that? Why wouldn’t the cannery accepting or rejecting a bid be about money?

Burke tells Blair to raise his bid by 10%. We don’t know how much the initial bid was, but apparently this price hike is shocking enough that Blair warns Burke the cannery isn’t even worth that much money.

Again, it’s hard to root for anybody in this story. That’s one of its cardinal problems. The Collinses are rich. Burke is rich. He’s probably already richer than they are, if he’s able to make outlandish bids on relatively worthless properties just to stick it to them.

Possibly, we are invited to see Burke’s stupid desire to bid more than is necessary or sensible on the cannery as part of the futility of revenge. He doesn’t need to spend that money, and he doesn’t need to own that cannery. He’s only doing it to stick it to the Collinses. Frankly, it’s kind of immature. We want to expect more from Burke than petty B.S. like this, but from the very beginning, his revenge has been aggressively milquetoast, and it seems Sproat has no desire to change that any time soon.

I made a big stink about this way back when Blair’s predecessor Stuart Bronson was the one taking abuse from Burke. Despite the early concerns of Roger and Liz, Burke’s subterfuges are entirely on the up-and-up. His plan to acquire the Collins properties and holdings are, while underhanded, perfectly legal. This is meant to affirm that Burke’s business mind is sharp enough that he can do outrageous things without putting himself in harm’s way. And while that’s great for him, it isn’t very…well…sexy. Especially since Burke doesn’t even do any of this himself, but through proxies like Blair. All Burke does is yell at people and forget his lines.

Vicky returns and Burke wastes no time introducing her to his consigliere.

Burke shuffles off, leaving Vicky to cool her heels while Blair signs some contracts that appear to be the only reason Burke had to come to Bangor in the first place. And if that all seems like a fairly weak contrivance to throw the show’s two leads together for a few episodes, don’t worry…there’s another reason Burke went to Bangor with Vicky, and we’re getting there.

First, though, it’s time for everybody’s favorite blooper:

Every few episodes, somebody mixes up Collinsport and Collinwood. Joel Crothers did it last episode. This one is especially funny because John Baragrey confuses Collinwood for Collinsport, is corrected, and then seems to not know what Collinwood is.

Yes, the hell he does. Unless he can see what Burke’s doing and has chosen to play dumb about the French fry thing.

So Blair gets to work signing those contracts, and then one of the strangest moments in the entire first year of Dark Shadows happens.

The Telltale Sterling Silver Filigreed Fountain Pen. Just when you thought you’d seen the last of it.

In case you’ve been living under a rock, here’s a refresher on Chekov’s Pen.

The original sterling silver filigreed fountain pen first appeared in Episode 42, which also happened to be the first occurrence both of this restaurant set and the character of James Blair. In that episode, Burke entertained Carolyn, who had followed him to Bangor on a whim, by asking her a series of questions about how she would respond if the grown-ups back home wondered what she was doing with him. It was very strange and read very much like what is now called grooming, but Carolyn passed the test and was rewarded with the sterling silver filigreed fountain pen. Carolyn declared she had never seen anything so beautiful before and decided she would use it to start a diary. Burke said this was a great idea and she should use it to record her most private thoughts, a notion that seemed to appeal to him very much.

Carolyn was never able to put the pen to its intended use, however as, later that day, she showed it to her Uncle Roger, who took a break from freaking out over the walls closing in on him thanks to Bill Malloy’s alliance with Burke, to chastise Carolyn for accepting such an expensive gift from a man, implying that she was a whore. He also took time to compliment the “workmanship” on the pen before snatching it from Carolyn’s hand and putting it in his breast pocket, intending to return it to Burke when he next saw him.

However, when Roger next saw Burke that night at the meeting Malloy never turned up to, he found that he no longer had the pen. Also, Burke needed to be reminded that he’d given the pen to Carolyn in the first place, which tells you how much he thought of the gesture.

After this, everybody kind of forgot about the pen for a few days because some guy died and everyone decided that was more worth their time. However, once the coroner officially ruled Malloy’s death was an accident, Carolyn, apropos of nothing, remembered the pen and learned Roger had never returned it to Burke.

At the exact same time as this question was raised, Victoria Winters finds the sterling silver filigreed fountain pen on the beach at Lookout Point, the place the police have confirmed as the likeliest location that Bill Malloy went into the sea. Vicky thought the pen looked cool and decided things were looking up for her at last, now that she had a bitching piece of stationary with which to grade David’s homework assignments and various threatening messages.

As this was happening, Burke was also thinking about the pen, presumably (again) only because of Carolyn’s random remembering, and was using this information as part of his vigilante quest for Malloy’s killer, a campaign that to this point had involved bursting into various peoples’ homes at dinnertime to yell at them and nothing else.

Burke realized that, if Roger had the pen the night Malloy died, but lost it, it could likely have vanished when he killed Malloy. He told this theory to Sheriff Patterson, who yelled at him for being stupid, told him to call him a lousy cop if he wanted, and left.

At Collinwood, Roger discovers Vicky using the pen and immediately began scheming ways to kill her and/or drive her insane.

Meanwhile, David saw Vicky holding the pen and got really excited about it, like so excited, like it was the greatest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Because he was currently struggling at times tables, Vicky promised David she’d give him the pen if he performed well at lessons.

Roger proceeds to steal the pen and bury in the woods. Vicky blames David, who hates being blamed for a crime he didn’t commit for once. Roger gaslights both of them, manipulating events so that David plans revenge, locking Victoria in a remote room in the closed-off wing of the house where he intends for her to waste away and die.

While she was trapped in the room, Vicky saw the ghost of Bill Malloy, who told her to leave Collinwood before she was killed like he was. She also, later, finds a scrap of paper in the room with a name that inspires her to go to Bangor and conduct an investigation of her own.

What I am saying is, the plot of the last 20 episodes, at least, has been dictated by the silver filigreed fountain pen. The pen has been a Chekov’s Gun, a MacGuffin, a harbinger, and a source of hours of gamesome laughter. Every time it appears to be gone, it resurfaces in a new and absurd way. This time, it has a clone!

Vicky stares at the pen for seven whole seconds in silent adoration like a Catholic priest before the Blessed Sacrament. Blair, who has the general attitude of a wax figure crossed with a mortician, expresses human concern for the first time since we’ve known him.

He frowns for a second, as if afraid she’s going to steal it before smiling in pride, as if someone has just complimented his child.

This really cheapens Burke’s initial act of giving the pen to Carolyn. He just hands them out like candy, I guess. Also, should somebody warn Blair that he should never have taken that pen? I mean, he’s basically engaging in prostitution, right?

Doesn’t everyone?

Vicky tells him she found a pen just like that a few days ago, and you can see Blair’s heart breaking at the thought.

Blair tells her it’s impossible that she could’ve found such a pen, and at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if he told her the one he had was the last relic of a cursed tomb.

The explanation is only slightly less stupid, however: there are apparently six pens like this in the entire world, and four of them are in South America which, presumably, is where they’re manufactured.

I was curious about this, so I Googled “South American fountain pens” in an effort to see if there was some booming luxury stationary industry there that the 21^st century has forgotten about.

I found some wooden pens, and some ordinary looking pens, and some pens that were made in Texas which is not in South America, just so you know.

Frustrated, I decided to determine which South American nation produces silver, in an attempt to determine just where Burke Devlin found this depository of super-rare writing utensils.

According to the Encyclopedia Brittanica, South American silver is primarily found in the Andes Mountains of Peru, which was one of the world’s biggest silver exporters until a major decline in the early ‘70s, which perfectly fits the Dark Shadows timeline.

We know Burke began building his fortune in Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, sometime after his release from prison in 1962. This involved striking oil, which he proceeded to do in many places around the world.

FACT: Peru is the seventh largest crude oil reserve in Central and South America. It therefore seems safe to conclude Burke was in Peru on oil business at some point between 1962 and 1966 when Dark Shadows takes place. While in Peru, he discovered the six Infinity St…I mean silver filigreed fountain pens.

Who manufactured them? Why did they only make six? Was there a secret manufacturing process? Did the artisan lose his life, taking the secret of the pens to the grave? What in the name of God did Burke have to do to get the pens, and why did he bother getting a second one for his banker? And why was Blair the banker to get the pen, when it was Stuart Bronson who was Burke’s original…

WAIT

We only have Blair’s word for it that Burke gave the pen to him. Burke’s primary business contact in Collinsport was supposed to be Blair’s partner, Bronson, but Bronson has only come up to Bangor once. Every other time Burke has had to do business since, he has communicated with Blair.

WHAT HAPPENED TO STUART BRONSON? Might it be that he was the original owner of the second pen, the sharer of whatever dark secret Burke had undertaken to get his hands on them? Might it be lust for the silver filigreed fountain pen that inspired Blair to usurp his partner and claim it as his own.

BUT YES

No wonder Burke was so quick to give the pen to Carolyn when they were having French fries! That same day was his first meeting with Blair. He had spoken to Bronson by phone before leaving Collinsport, he entirely expected to find Bronson when he arrived in Bangor. Shocked and alarmed by the switcheroo and expecting treachery, Burke ensured he would not die for the pen as Bronson did, instead swapping it off on an impressionable teenager obsessed with him.

THE STERLING SILVER FILIGREED FOUNTAIN PEN MEANS DEATH, DEATH AND SORROW TO WHOEVER BEHOLDS IT. THE PEN KILLED ITS MASTER, IT KILLED BRONSON…

Could it have killed Bill Malloy?

Victoria gets a very sinister idea from all this. Learning that the other pen in the set belonged to Burke, complete with Blair suggesting it was Burke’s pen she found, she puts two and two together with a remarkable quickness and is immediately seized by unease.

For, indeed, Lookout Point is the place Malloy was to have died. Vicky is no longer certain Malloy’s death was an accident, thanks to her supernatural encounter with him. She also has no idea of the extensive pen lore I so kindly provided for you above. Carolyn never told her about Burke giving her a pen. She has no reason to believe Burke’s pen wouldn’t have been on his possession at any given time.

And, since it turned up at a potential murder scene, wouldn’t that mean…?

I don’t know how to describe how stupidly perfect this nonsense is. Once chance glimpse at a tertiary character’s preferred stationary and Victoria Winters is suddenly the heroine of a Lifetime Original Movie, grappling with the dawning terror that the man she is with might be a homicidal maniac.

As it happens, whatever experience he has in the teen drama sector, Lifetime is Sproat’s favorite channel.

The contracts are signed and Blair takes off, leaving Vicky alone with the penless Burke. Yet another nightly thunderstorm is brewing. If you’re keeping track, it’s the third in as many nights. Because of this, Burke is in a hurry to get on the road, but Vicky has reservations. She hastily makes excuses, going to make a telephone call.

You know it’s gotten desperate when Frank is your first call.

Frank wasn’t available for whatever reason, which at least spares us the agony of watching the Nice Guy save the Girl from the Bad Guy. At that rate, Fricktoria would’ve been married by next week.

The hapless Vicky had no other alternative but to call Collinwood and, just her luck, the it’s old Rog who picks up the phone.

Poor Vicky has every reason to believe she and Roger are cool now. He’s taken her out to breakfast, defended her (however lukewarmly) against David’s accusations and threats, and he has frequently expressed concern for her safety, even as much as offering to secure her a cushy job with friends of his Florida who are Very Definitely Not in a Cult.

What she doesn’t know is that Roger has a vested interest in getting rid of her, that he was the one who manipulated David into locking her in the East Wing, all as part of a dramatic scheme to scare her away from Collinwood so she’d never tell anybody about the…

She tells him all about the pen, how it belonged to Burke and how she now believes Burke has something to do with Malloy’s death.

Roger takes on the role of the crisis counselor, advising Vicky to make excuses to Burke so he goes back without her and vowing to head to Collinsport as fast as possible to get her. All seems taken care of…

Until you remember that Vicky is exactly right to suspect the holder of the pen of murder…

But is wrong in who the holder of the pen was the night Malloy died. It’s not the man she’s trying to avoid. It’s the man she just begged to rescue her.

This is a moment of such perfect tension, really an excellent first Friday cliffhanger for Ron Sproat. It’s Dark Shadows at its best: something as ridiculous as the silver filigreed fountain pen has produced a situation with so many moving parts. Vicky is right, from her point of view, to do what she did, but we know better and are helpless to warn her, watching as she claims to Burke she’s decided to check back into the hotel for another night, telling her confused ally she’d rather be alone, watching as the irascible Burke Devlin, someone who at the very least would want to protect her from the likes of Roger, takes off at her own insistence.

Vicky is a mouse in a trap. And the cat is coming.

And all for the want of a fountain pen.

It’s This Guy from That Thing!

While his predecessor’s portrayer Barnard Hughes would go on to be most known for roles after Dark Shadows, John Baragrey’s career was already in its twilight by the time he clocked his three episodes on the soap.

Born on April 15, 1918 in Alabama, Baragrey got his start in theater during World War II, where he did USO shows.

His most notable stage role was in 1946’s A Flag is Born, the play that advocated for the creation of a Jewish homeland. Yeah, there…there was a play about how concentration camp survivors needed a place to go and that place had to be Israel. That was a thing that existed. And a guy from Dark Shadows was in it.

His first film was 1948’s The Loves of Carmen when he starred alongside none other than Rita Hayworth. Hayworth wasn’t the only star Baragrey would play with, either. Throughout his film career, he would share the screen with such stars as Anne Bancroft, Tallulah Bankhead, and Bette Davis. It makes it all the more striking he never had scenes with Joan Bennett while on Dark Shadows; the two were very much from the same world.

In content, his film roles were very varied. There was a great deal of romance and noir, but also real eclectic offerings like 1948’s The Creeper, a film about a doctor who’s experiments turn him into a feline murderer, and 1966’s Gammera the Invincible, a Japanese kaiju film in the vein of Godzilla.

His television work was confined primarily to anthologies and playhouse programs in the 1950s, including two episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents in 1956 and ’57. He had clocked one soap role prior to Dark Shadows as the second Arthur Rysdale on The Secret Storm from 1962 to ’64.

The majority of Baragrey’s television roles are lost to history, however, due to poor preservation, which is the main reason the poor guy’s virtually unknown today despite being in the same class with so many stars.

Baragrey succumbed to a stroke in 1975 at the age of 57.

This Day in History- Friday, November 4, 1966

Italy’s Arno River swells with flood, sweeping through the city of Florence and killing 149 people. The flood destroys millions of dollars of Renaissance art, wrecking the lowers floors of the Uffizi Gallery, the Convent of St. Mark, and the Florence Cathedral.

Syria and Egypt sign a mutual defense pact, vowing to come to each other’s aid in the event of a war with Israel. Egypt feared that Syria’s recent tensions with Israel would plunge the entire Middle East into a war, so this alliance was intended as a stopgap before that ever happened. And, indeed, there didn’t end up being an Egyptian/Israeli/Syrian war. Not that that meant anything for peace in the Middle East…