The Crimes of Stephen Hawke

You owe it to yourself to see at least one Tod Slaughter film. His signature movie Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street or the career overview Crimes at the Dark House are two of the best examples, but The Crimes of Stephen Hawke is a worthwhile introduction to his work. Like most of the early Slaughter movies it seems uneasy about the (then) new film medium favouring more common forms of entertainment. His debut film Maria Marten or the Murder in the Red Barn opens with the entire cast being introduced like in a play and Crimes opens like a radio show complete with some hard to watch variety acts (singers Flotsom and Jetsom and a `comic' butcher) before Tod Slaughter is brought on to introduce his latest piece of `Strong Meat'. In the subsequent film/ radio play Slaughter (real name: Norman Carter Slaughter) plays the title role, an outwardly respectable moneylender who is really serial killer `The Spinebreaker' nicknamed for his ability to snap his victim's spines. His long time friend Joshua becomes his latest victim, however upon discovering the guilty party Jossua's son seeks revenge, forcing Hawke and his sidekick, an eyepatch wearing, one legged hunchback to flee, leaving Hawke's adopted daughter in the blackmailing hands of an upper class `lecherous brute'. For a film that barely passes the hour mark this manages to cram allot in, including a fake `talking' corpse, Hawke sent to jail for a year (for stealing a loaf of bread!), the obligatory romance, the honest guy vs the slimey rich guy for Hawke's daughter's hand and even some unexpected sensitivity. Its worth noting that the British censors banned all horror films during the WW2 years, although this falls a few years short of the censor's ban, during that time Slaughter was still making `meldrodramas' with tent pegs pounded into heads, human flesh stuffed into meat pies and lines like `I'll feed your entrails to the pigs' that were far more lurid than any banned Hollywood horror movie. Crimes opens to a sadistic scene where a pompous child is attacked by Slaughter and has his back broken, such scenes like that are not common in British movies of the time. Equally don't look for sub-plots about people being tortured with whips in Ealing comedies. Yet Slaughter's performance is incredible, extremely theatrical and barnstorming par excellence. You can almost hear the boos from the audience as he exits a scene giggling and cackling after `coming to grips' with some unfortunate. Some of the berserk expressions he makes in this film as he breaks spines makes it hard to believe he hadn't completely lost his mind. Call it hammy or over the top, but you'll never forget it. The director George King deserves credit for preserving most of Slaughter's body of work on film (even if he doesn't do it very well). Seemingly more comfortable on stage than on film, Slaughter's movies are little more than filmed plays, with cardboard sets, minimal (if any) camera movement, and unexceptional repertory players. Slaughter is the only reason to watch any of his films, for further proof see King's other Slaughter-less films like The Case of the Frightened Lady (1941) the old magic simply isn't there. Tales from Slaughter's theatre days are both hilarious and the stuff of legend. Actresses not needed would dress as nurses (in case anyone died of a heart attack), while Slaughter reviled in the sort of grand guignol butchery that could never be shown on film and would walk around after the show in blood stained clothes. Whether all these tales are true its hard to know. My relatives remember seeing the guy `live' sometime in the Forties and the man himself definitely left an impression running around the audience covered in blood (actually beetroot juice), waving a big knife and offering to `polish people off'. Now dead for nearly half a century, Slaughter's films are the nearest we'll ever come to experiencing such mad genius first hand. Technically the movies should be unwatchable, but they exert a strange fascination that you'll have to see for yourself, there really hasn't been anything like them before or since.

Todd Slaughter is at it again folks,, this time playing a well -mannered banker by day, and being a father to his adopted daughter , but by night folks he becomes...... wait for it..... the Spinebreaker.. very gruesome killer. he kills the rich I guess because he figures that they don't need it. In the Daytime he plays a successful banker, and he also protects his adopted daughter from a potential suitor whom he doesn't really like that much,, I really liked this one because it moved quickly , there was very good dialogue between the characters, and there was some action and mystery,, very good film for the time period.. and Todd Slaughter continues to shine in this horror film.

On the positive, Tod Slaughter did a great job of playing Stephen Hawke, there seems to be little 'extras' in making the characters a bit unique. He reminded me a bit of George C. Scott in action like Mr. Scrooge and Jon Pertwee in visual acting. The first half was a slick story, albeit a little slow to start. The ending was interesting, so not disappointed there either.

Writing became a bit unraveled half way through though, characters seem to be 'slipping' and the damsel in distress a bit static. Villains and heroes announce their plans to their adversary and delay actions that would guarantee success. Instead, they opt for gamesmanship presumably to build superficial drama.

The book-ending of a radio show was odd, awkward, and not really surprised to see the man snoozing in the chair. Funny, but accurate. If you've got the time, then the film is an okay watch, but not likely memorable.

"Stephen Hawke is a moneylender whose compassion for his clients is only outshined by his devotion to his lovely daughter. What she and the rest of the public don't know is that Stephen Hawke is leading a double life. At night, he becomes 'The Spine Breaker', a notorious killer with the habit of viciously killing his victims in the most horrible ways imaginable," according to the DVD sleeve's synopsis. Silly movie, enriched as much as possible by two under-appreciated British stars - murderous Tod Slaughter (as Stephen Hawke) and Shakespearian Eric Portman (as Matthew Trimble) - both deserving better productions.

**** The Crimes of Stephen Hawke (1936) George King ~ Tod Slaughter, Eric Portman, Marjorie Taylor

The Crimes of Stephen Hawke kicks off with a tune from Flotsam and Jetsam - sadly, not the '80s thrash band (that would be cool!), but rather a musical comedy duo, Mr. Flotsam sat at the piano singing like George Formby, with Mr. Jetsam, a heftier dude with a deeper voice, standing. They're performing as part of the radio show that is the pre-amble to the film's main story. After Flotsam and Jetsam, we get a comedic butcher called Henry Hopkins, who sells cat meat, followed by an interview with actor Tod Slaughter, who talks about the many murders he has committed on screen, playing characters such as the infamous barber Sweeney Todd, and this film's maniac, crazed 'spine-breaker' Stephen Hawke.

Mr. Hawke is a seemingly affable moneylender who secretly makes extra cash on the side by snapping the backs of the wealthy with his bare hands and stealing their valuables. He is aided in his nefarious work by one of the best sidekicks I have seen in an old black and white horror: the guy not only has a hunchback (standard issue for drooling horror henchmen of the day), but he also has only one leg and one eye. Unlucky for him, but great for fans of cheesy B-movies.

When Hawke's friend Joshua Trimble discovers the terrible truth about the evil moneylender, he also has his spine snapped, leaving Trimble's son Matthew (Eric Portman), who is in love with Hawke's adopted daughter Julia (Marjorie Taylor), to take revenge.

After pursuing Hawke across the country with no success, Matthew gives up and returns to London in time to save Julia from scoundrel Miles Archer, who has blackmailed the poor girl into marrying him. Meanwhile, Hawke returns to London, ready for the film's finalé, which, in time-honoured fashion, sees the villain take to the rooftops and fall to his death - right in front of poor Julia's eyes.

Tod Slaughter, Britain's answer to the likes of Boris Karloff and George Zucco, puts in another wonderful theatrical performance - all wild eyes, evil leers, and exaggerated movements - that is perfect for the occasion. He doesn't have a moustache to twirl or a cape to swish, but if he did, he would. It almost feels mandatory to boo and hiss at the screen whenever he makes an entrance. While not the greatest story ever told, The Crimes of Stephen Hawke is still a lot of fun thanks to its star's special brand of ham/cheeze, the likes of which I doubt we will ever see again, and the rather strange wraparound radio broadcast that is just too bizarre not to be entertaining.