The years, gray hairs and wrinkles fade away from Johnny Depp and Michelle Pfeiffer, and the cobwebs are brushed off Dark Shadows in Tim Burton's campy and dark take on the late 1960s vampire soap opera.
A cheesy and cheap but beloved TV program takes an affectionate ribbing in the film, which has more in common with That '70s Show than its actual source.
But it's a fun flashback to the days when a jilted witch (former Bond babe Eva Green, in fine fury) cursed Barnabas Collins (Depp) to eternal damnation as a vampire.
The evil Angelique killed his parents, turned the seaport village of Collinsport against Barnabas and had him entombed. When he is accidentally awakened in 1972, he discovers that was just the beginning of her revenge.
His descendants (Pfeiffer, Jonny Lee Miller, Chloë Grace Moretz, Gulliver McGrath) are living in the cluttered ruins of Collinwood, their vast mansion. Angelique now dominates the fishing industry that made the Collins clan's fortune. Tragedy has visited the family regularly. Little David (McGrath) lost his mother, and requires a live-in shrink (Helena Bonham Carter) who is also a pill-popping drunk. And they're about to hire a governess (Bella Heathcote) who is the spitting image of Josette, the long-lost love of Barnabas.
Depp is wonderfully adept at playing this sort of fish out of water. Barnabas spies the miniskirt of his teenage descendant (Moretz) and wonders why a streetwalker lives among them.
He shouts "Show yourself, Satan" at his first sight of an automobile's headlights.
The daffiness extends to Collinwood, where secret passages are now "where I keep my macrame," matriarch Elizabeth (Pfeiffer) informs him.
Depp and Green set off real sparks as ex-lovers, with Green vamping up her vintage man-eater role and Depp's Barnabas harrumphing that he will never fall for "a succubus of Satan."
It's all done in the name of good, slightly off-color fun. Burton relishes the time-period pop so much that he plays entire songs on the soundtrack, lacing Nights in White Satin under the opening credits, The Carpenters, Barry White (the big sex scene, of course), Black Sabbath and Elton John's Crocodile Rock under other moments. He brings in Alice Cooper for an extended cameo-concert.
The effects are grand, the settings shadowy and digitally enhanced. One bit, having a character turn into an eggshell caricature of herself, is something we've never seen before.
But all is not grins and tasty one- liners in Collinsport. Heathcote (In Time) is woefully out of her depth, faintly mysterious but unable to suggest the passion that Barnabas carried for 200 years. Jackie Earle Haley, who takes on the Renfield role in this Dracula parody, is hilarious. But Jonny Lee Miller is wasted, given little to play and thus bringing nothing to the party.
At nearly two hours, this two-joke comedy is entirely too long. But Burton neither dishonors the show nor disappoints generations of fans of that series, people inspired to pass on their vampire love to their children and now grandchildren.
And if nothing else, he is to be commended for the makeup and effects that strip decades from his older cast members, including Bonham Carter.
"Every year I get half as pretty and twice as drunk," her character, Dr. Julia Hoffman, complains. In Dark Shadows, Burton has made at least half that line a lie.