The Curse of the Wraydons

Many years ago my parents attended an estate sale and obtained an old 16mm projector. We were also given several 16mm films, one of which being the Curse of the Wraydons. It is one of the all time funniest "bad" movies ever made: how none of Slaughter's films made in onto Mystery Science Theatre 3000 (MST3K) is a mystery unto itself. The production values are not too bad, considering the high-end period costumes, but the cinematography and audio is so amateurish as to make this a great film for a group whose minds easily work in MST3K mode. One shot cuts to an extreme close up of Slaughter: it is clearly obvious it's supposed to be scary, but the shot is out of focus enough, and he's grinning from ear to ear enough that when showing the film to a fellow fan of Entertaining Bad Films nearly fell off his chair laughing. Some of the scenes' audio sounds as though recorded in someone's bathroom (particularly an odd fencing duel scene): no one at the time (or at least with this production) ever considered recording the lines separately and replacing inaudible lines with audible lines. Not all bad films are entertaining (e.g., In the Name of the King, D-Wars, etc.), but it's safe to say as a "film maker," Tod Slaughter gives Ed Wood a run for his money when it comes to his Inadvertently-Entertaining Bad films.

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...

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.

Madness runs in some families, in the Wraydons it practically gallops in this poky but generally good-looking pre-Victorian melodrama that marked everyone's favourite wicked uncle's return to the big screen after being obliged to confine his villainy to the stage for the duration of the War by official discouragement of horror films (although his thirties vehicles had continued to do the rounds in cinemas).

A whiskerless Tod Slaughter is only Spring Heeled Jack in name, since he skulks about rather than leaps and the action is actually set against the backdrop of the Napoleonic wars, over thirty years before the first alleged sightings of the 'historical' Jack in 1837.

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!