Three stars. Rating: PG-13, and somewhat generously, for comic horror violence, profanity, drug use and considerable sexual candor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.11.12
The casting is divine, the
one-liners are appropriately snarky, and Johnny Depp's slow takes and sidelong
glances are, well, to die for.
 |
| Young Carolyn (Chloë Grace Moretz) and David (Gulliver McGrath) don't know what to make of their newly introduced "distant relation," Barnabas (Johnny Depp), except for the blindingly obvious fact that he's a total square, when it comes to contemporary (1972) pop culture. |
But to quote the heroine of the
previous collaboration between Depp and director Tim Burton, this new
big-screen take on Dark Shadows isn’t such a much. It’s slow, self-indulgent
and — worst of all — rather boring.
Screenwriter Seth Grahame-Smith —
working from a story he concocted with John August — may have tried too hard to
replicate the creaky, somnambulant tone that characterized Dan Curtis’
legendary daytime soap, during its reign from 1966 to ’71. The plot here drifts
haphazardly, with disparate elements either left dangling or brought to hurried
resolutions that seem anticlimactic (notably, one primary character’s rather
abrupt and unsatisfactory demise).
Centuries-old vampire Barnabas
Collins (Depp) also demonstrates a rather inconsistent aversion to daylight. In
one scene, the slightest touch of sunlight’s dappled rays on his skin prompts
smoke and even fire ... and yet he spends much of this storyline wandering
about by day (and let’s not pretend his hat offers sufficient protection).
The local citizens of bucolic
Collinsport, Maine, also come and go at whim. When the film finally builds to a
frenzied-mob climax, Frankenstein-style, everybody — including a squad of cops
in several police cars — storms majestic Collinwood Manor. A few eyeblinks later,
during a real estate-wrecking battle royale, all these bystanders are gone.
Granted, we get a token clip of
cops telling everybody to go home, because “there’s nothing to see here” ...
but the logical response to that idiotic remark, at that particular juncture,
would have been a defiant “Are you kidding?” from everybody present. Besides
which, there’s no reason the cops also would have vanished.
Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy.
Credit where due, though: Former
Bond babe Eva Green’s Angelique Bouchard is one helluva nasty witch. Green is a
delicious, dynamic blend of saucy, smoldering carnality and bone-chilling
malevolence; she’s far more engaging and entertaining than this film’s star. At
the risk of stating the obvious, Green’s Angelique is ferociously, vibrantly
alive, whereas Depp’s Barnabas too often suffers from coffin-lag.
I expected better of
Grahame-Smith, who burst on the scene a few years ago with his genre-bending
novel, Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter (getting its own big-screen adaptation
June 22). Pacing is everything in a full-blooded vampire tale, as Grahame-Smith
well knows. Why, then, does so much of this Dark Shadows feel like it’s
wandering aimlessly in a Barnabas-induced hypnotic haze?
I guess Depp (who also
co-produced) and Burton shoulder the blame, for their giggling desire to pause
on every double-entendre, every droll reference to Curtis’ original series, and
every aspect of production designer Rick Heinrichs’ admittedly awesome handling
of the Collins mansion. (Heinrichs won a well-deserved Academy Award for his
similar work on an earlier Burton/Depp collaboration, 1999’s Sleepy Hollow.)
That’s a lot of pausing, and the
pacing — and plot — suffer correspondingly.
A lengthy 18th century prologue
establishes Barnabas’ origins, as the favored son who benefits from a family
fishing empire that transforms an isolated coastal corner of Maine into a
seaport named for the Collins clan. Alas, Barnabas unwisely dallies with a
servant girl (Angelique) who, unbeknownst to him, happens to be a witch. (A lot
of them ran around the original 13 colonies back in the day, donchaknow.)
When Barnabas transfers his
affections to the lovely, more appropriately aristocratic Josette DePres (Bella
Heathcote, suitably ethereal), Angelique flies into a magic-laden rage. In a
few tragic seconds, Josette is dead, and Barnabas has been transformed into a
vampire and locked into a chained and buried coffin, where he’ll suffer
conscious, undead torment as the years pass.
Many years. Two centuries, in
fact.
Cut to 1972, the era of free
love, rock ’n’ roll and nascent women’s rights. Remnants of the clan still
reside in Collinwood, starting with matriarch Elizabeth Collins Stoddard
(Michelle Pfeiffer) and her rebellious teenage daughter, Carolyn (Chloë Grace Moretz).
They share the manor with Elizabeth’s ne’er-do-well brother, Roger (Jonny Lee
Miller), who badly neglects his lonely, imaginative 10-year-old son, David
(Gully McGrath).
Concern over the boy’s
“condition” has prompted the presence of a live-in psychiatrist, Dr. Julia
Hoffman (Helena Bonham Carter), who spends more time dispensing alcohol than
wisdom. The household is rounded out by long-suffering caretaker Willie Loomis
(Jackie Earle Haley).
Collinwood has fallen into
disrepair, the family fortune all but depleted because a “new” entrepreneur,
the strikingly familiar Angie (Green, of course) has a stranglehold on the
local fishing industry. In fact, the ageless Angie — carefully assuming the
identity of her own descendents, every 40 years or so — has spent the past two
centuries reducing the Collins family to near-paupers in the community they
founded.
The status quo heats up with the
arrival of Victoria Winters (also Heathcote), who has answered an ad to become
young David’s new nanny. Oddly, Victoria finds herself at ease in this dusty,
dilapidated mansion, and almost immediately is visited by a drifting specter.
Elsewhere, one of Angie’s
construction crews unearths a coffin ... and, just like that, Barnabas finds
himself back above ground, ready to resume his role as protector of the Collins
family honor. Dealing with the oddities of 1972, however, will take some time.
Sure, it’s a hoot to watch Depp’s
chronologically misplaced Barnabas react with wonder at late 20th century
trappings such as television, asphalt highways and rock star Alice Cooper (“the
ugliest woman I’ve ever seen”). But a little of that bewilderment goes a long
way, and the time would be much better spent with richer character development.
Miller’s Roger Collins is
particularly ill-treated, his actions reduced to a few avaricious glances
toward the concealed chamber that contains a family treasure. This loot allows
Barnabas and Elizabeth — the only person with whom he initially trusts his
actual identity — to restore Collinwood and set about reclaiming their industry
from Angie’s scheming clutches. (Cue a cameo appearance by the eternal
Christopher Lee, as a fishing captain.)
The storyline never knows what to
do with Roger, and his eventual fate feels like a careless afterthought. And
while the always watchable Moretz gets plenty of mileage as a sullen, sulky
misfit, third-act details about Carolyn are similarly rushed.
Pfeiffer fares better, lending
plenty of atmospheric brio as the resourceful Elizabeth, who shares Barnabas’ desire
to undo Angelique once and for all. And Haley is a hoot as the submissive
Renfield to Barnabas’ commanding vampire.
Speaking of cameos, yes, longtime
fans will be pleased by a party sequence that includes brief appearances by
David Selby (Quentin Collins, back in the day), Lara Parker (the original
Angelique), Kathryn Leigh Scott (the original Josette and Maggie Evans Collins)
and, most appropriately, Jonathan Frid (the original Barnabas). But don’t
blink, or you’ll miss them.
Danny Elfman’s score is
disappointing, too often undercut by shrewdly placed period rock and pop songs
by the Moody Blues, Donovan, Curtis Mayfield, the Carpenters and — needless to
say — Alice Cooper.
So, while individual elements of
this Dark Shadows are engaging, clever and amusing, the story itself never
quite catches fire: a classic case of the whole being less than the sum of its
parts.
Barnabas deserved better.
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