Stop me if you’ve heard this one: Johnny Depp and Tim Burton did a movie together … Helena Bonham Carter is in it too … in part, it’s produced by Disney … it’s kind of dark and twisted … the final few minutes makes you remember that it’s produced by Disney. Still reading? This wealth of familiarity and inaccurately marketed trailers are why Dark Shadows failed at the box office and was, overall, poorly received. The previews made the move look like campy spoof, when it is truly more akin to the tones of Interview with the Vampire or Sweeny Todd (pre-Disney Burton) than it is to any of the Austin Powers films.
Admittedly, there are moments that try futilely to turn anachronism into comedy: Barnabas Collins (Depp) looks at a lava lamp in amazement; he demands the “tiny songstress” to emerge from the television set; he perceives oncoming headlights as the eyes of the devil; his first contact with electricity comes from a gigantic, illuminated McDonalds sign (it is, after all, Disney, and they love their synergy).
Moments like these made me cringe, but they are often preceded – and followed – by gruesome attacks by Barnabas. He vows not to hurt his family, but everyone else is fair game. In effect, Dark Shadows is the anti-Twilight. He is not here to make friends; rather, he’s here to rebuild his family’s empire – and seek a bit of revenge on the still-living witch / former mistress who turned him into a vampire.
Most interestingly is that Barnabis – no matter if Depp is playing him – is really not meant as a redeeming character. He’s violent (in a way, this is acceptable in that he has to survive, but this does lead to the deaths of a dozen construction workers, half-a-dozen hippies, and a psychiatrist), and more interestingly, he’s a philanderer, which makes his initial demise – and that of his lover – a bit less sympathetic.
To explain: in the seventeenth century, the Collins clan was quite wealthy and Barnabas enjoyed the perks of being fawned over as well as being in love with the beautiful Josette. At the same time, he carries on an affair with the equally attractive, yet slightly unhinged Angelique Bouchard – who happens to be the aforementioned witch.
As the saying goes, hell hath no fury like a witch scorned for another, so she casts a spell on Josette to maker he leap from Widow’s peak. Witnessing this, Barnabas runs to her rescue, fails, and decides to swan dive from the peak himself, only to rise as one of the undead. Angelique then sics the town on him (he is a vampire after all), and he’s confined in a coffin underground for the next two-hundred-or-so years.
Intriguingly, Barnabas is the anti-hero from the very beginning. His infidelity impels his love’s death as well as his own imprisonment, however, misogynistically, this also pits Angelique as the villain, a title that I’m not sure is entirely accurate. Sure, she’s a witch, but she was scorned. Twice (it happens again in the 1970’s). One would figure that two hundred years to ruminate on past transgressions, Collins would be able to recognize the inevitable mistake.
All in all, Dark Shadows is inconsistent throughout with its attempted jabs at the style, music, and fashion of the 1970’s (we should all take a lesson about anachronisms here from Austin Powers: it worked once, for most of the movie, but it failed miserably the second and third time around). What’s more, there are bound to be sequels (we can only hope there won’t be as many Shadows as there are Pirates, but they are inevitable.) However, its darker – and for the most part, less Disneyfied – imagining of Collins-as-vampire is entertaining.
