The Curse of the Wraydons

The Lord Chamberlain's Department in Britain actively discouraged Tod Slaughter's usual type of film during WWII, so it was not until this little costume melodrama that he was able to return from exile on the stage. It's the usual hammy stuff; only this time the setting is Napoleonic and we are smuggling information not brandy. The "Wraydon" family are meant to be a little bit bonkers - well rest assured, you are left in no doubt as our tale of camp espionage gathers pace. We've got spies, duels and treason a-plenty to keep us entertained for a slightly over-long hour and forty. Lovely to watch with a cup of tea on a dreich afternoon...

The Curse of the Wraydons was made in 1946 but feels like it was made in 1934, such is the creaky pace, static scenes and slow, exaggerated acting on display throughout the yarn. The film is slow, but the day is saved by the majestic turn of Tod Slaughter as the fiendish Chief, an arch villain in the employ of Napoleon, who murders, schemes and plots aplenty. Tod is always lurking in the shadows, laughing maniacally (often at nothing in particular), and is prone to nodding to himself repeatedly when spying through various windows. Yet, while there is scarcely an inch of the scenery that is left unchewed, Tod Slaughter really animates every scene he is in with his unrelentingly evil antics, as he was a unique acting talent in his dogged adherence and revival of the classic elements of the penny dreadful tradition and I truly love his work. So, there is much talk of the exploits of Spring-Heeled Jack, but no heel-springing is ever evident, but there are secret passages, a proto trash compactor, duels, braces of pistols, French spies, and Tod watching and anticipating torture with hand-rubbing glee. So, the film is not as fun as the other Tod Slaughter films, but there are still melodramatic larks galore.

Manifestly melodramatic maniac, Tod Slaughter remains one of the more, how shall I put it?, 'esoteric' fear figures in the glorious pantheon of classic British horror. All too many disdainfully regard his unhinged 'murder in the barn-storming' performances as, perhaps, being of a singularly 'acquired' taste. Sadly, masters of bravura acting eccentricity are rare, and arguably one of the more unfiltered examples of a serially scenery-chewing actor would be that towering, taste-tottering titan of vintage Gothic grisliness, Tod Slaughter!

Slaughter is on mesmerisingly melodramatic form in this creepy-creaky, cobwebbed Gothic plot-boiler. Turgidly directed by, Victor M. Gover, this remains an undeniably stagy, musty film artefact, it is then no small testament to the hyperbolic mannerisms of the estimable, triple-glazed terror Thespian, Tod Slaughter who almost manages to revivify this otherwise moth-eared melodrama. The multifarious double-dealing, chivalrous duels, perfidious murder plots are wickedly energised by the unconscionable devilry of Slaughter's despicably murderous cad 'the Chief'. Wherein no tottering scenery is safe from that tenacious terror termite, Tod Slaughter as he gluttonously consumes all available celluloid as though desperately breaking an extended fast! Good films are very rarely as entertaining the really bad ones, and this is undeniably poor, but, by Jove! Its objective 'badness' proves subjectively entertaining! Depending on ones mood, 'The Curse of The Wraydons' is a not infrequently hilarious, deliciously camp vintage creepshow!

STRANGLER'S MORGUE (aka: THE CURSE OF THE WRAYDONS) is about treachery and espionage during the Napoleonic wars. The Wraydon family is allegedly cursed with madness. Jack Wraydon seeks to uphold the family honor.

Meanwhile, a criminal known as The Chief (Tod Slaughter), an odious traitor and fiend, murders anyone in his way while betraying the crown. He also seeks revenge for an unexpected reason. Although it takes a while for things to get going, Mr. Slaughter comes through as only he can. His gleeful lunacy is at once histrionic and creepy. He even gets his own hidden dungeon, complete with a novel instrument of torture. Without Mr. Slaughter, this would be one dull movie!

A wonderfully devilish film with a fitting finale...

It would appear that the reviewer from Australia was unaware of Slaughter's reputation for performing in these overheated melodramas,and that he is generally sending up the whole genre.Unfortunately he cannot disguise the sheer awfulness of the whole procedure.The films he made for George King before the war are far superior to his later efforts for Ambassador filmed at the very small studios in Bushey.The main problem is that the film is just so boring it is impossible to hold the attention.Also it has to be said that Slaughter is well past his prime here.It was without the worst of his films and watchable only by those who are devotees of either the genre or of Slaughter himself.