Beginning in the first year of Queen Victoria's reign, there were rumours in England of a bizarre criminal nicknamed Springheel Jack, who was allegedly able to leap to superhuman distances and heights. The legend lasted into Edward VII's time, with the result that a few minor but genuine criminals began calling themselves Springheel Jack. (A minor character in Michael Crichton's novel 'The Great Train Robbery' uses this name.) Several Victorian stage melodramas featured Springheel Jack as a character. This film is based on one such play ... although it takes place in 1805, which is too early for Jack's exploits.
Handsome Jack Wraydon is a captain in an army regiment quartered in Essex, prepared to defend England against an invasion by the troops of Napoleon. (No mention is made of the French army's disastrous attempt to invade Fishguard, Wales, in 1798.) Captain Wraydon is nicknamed Springheel Jack, for his prodigious ability to high-jump ... which we keep hearing about in the dialogue, but which we never see onscreen. Jack Wraydon is afraid to marry, due to 'the curse of the Wraydons'. Supposedly, his family has a history of hereditary insanity, but the only documented example of this is his deceased uncle Philip, who was a mad inventor.
Meanwhile, some blaggard known only as 'The Chief' (Tod Slaughter, as hissable as always) is preying upon the king's soldiers, strangling them with laughable ease. The Chief has two henchmen who speak with the most blatantly phony Cockney accents I've ever heard ... even worse than Dick van Dyke in 'Mary Poppins'. SPOILERS COMING. It turns out that the Chief is actually Philip Wraydon, alive after all. Philip has apparently invented some sort of infernal machine which amplifies the 'power' of the human body, enabling him to make prodigious leaps which enable him to frame his nephew Jack for Philip's crimes. Regrettably, we never actually see Tod Slaughter doing his Springheel Jack routine: a pity, as it would have been hilarious to see this fat little man kangarooing his way across the screen.
All of Tod Slaughter's films are very creaky, with only 'Sweeney Todd' and 'The Face at the Window' enjoyable for modern audiences. 'The Curse of the Wraydon' is very likely his worst. This material is beyond stagebound. At the alleged 'climax' of the film, two characters stand in a room and have a long slow conversation in which they agree that they ought to hurry to the old mill. When they finish this conversation, one of them says 'Hurry!', which is the cue for both of them to saunter towards the mill. As they approach the mill, they hear a scream. This prompts them to stop in their tracks and have another long conversation, in which they agree that they ought to investigate the scream. Having settled this, they stroll purposefully forward.
In this entire film, there's one and only one clever cinematic device. After Philip Wraydon frames Jack for his own crimes, a reward is posted for Jack Wraydon's capture. The reward is 100 guineas. (In real life, the reward would have been in pounds ... even though spade guineas were still in circulation in 1805.) We see the reward poster in close-up, while -- through a series of dissolves -- the reward gradually increases. This effect is spoilt somewhat by the fact that the reward handbill is printed in what is obviously 20th-century typography.
At the end of the film, Philip chucks his nephew Jack into one of those dungeon pits with walls that gradually move together, crushing anyone between them. All this time, we've been hearing about Jack's ability to leap to superhuman heights ... so now we expect finally to see that ability onscreen, even if it requires trick photography. Curses! Foiled again! Jack escapes from the pit by another method entirely ... and of course Tod Slaughter falls into the pit, just in time to get crushed by his own infernal machine.
'The Curse of the Wraydons' is so bang awful, I'm tempted to rate it zero points. But due to my interest in the actual Springheel Jack mystery -- which I mentioned in my novel 'The Woman Between the Worlds' -- I'll rate this movie one point out of 10. Consider yourself warned.
Handsome Jack Wraydon is a captain in an army regiment quartered in Essex, prepared to defend England against an invasion by the troops of Napoleon. (No mention is made of the French army's disastrous attempt to invade Fishguard, Wales, in 1798.) Captain Wraydon is nicknamed Springheel Jack, for his prodigious ability to high-jump ... which we keep hearing about in the dialogue, but which we never see onscreen. Jack Wraydon is afraid to marry, due to 'the curse of the Wraydons'. Supposedly, his family has a history of hereditary insanity, but the only documented example of this is his deceased uncle Philip, who was a mad inventor.
Meanwhile, some blaggard known only as 'The Chief' (Tod Slaughter, as hissable as always) is preying upon the king's soldiers, strangling them with laughable ease. The Chief has two henchmen who speak with the most blatantly phony Cockney accents I've ever heard ... even worse than Dick van Dyke in 'Mary Poppins'. SPOILERS COMING. It turns out that the Chief is actually Philip Wraydon, alive after all. Philip has apparently invented some sort of infernal machine which amplifies the 'power' of the human body, enabling him to make prodigious leaps which enable him to frame his nephew Jack for Philip's crimes. Regrettably, we never actually see Tod Slaughter doing his Springheel Jack routine: a pity, as it would have been hilarious to see this fat little man kangarooing his way across the screen.
All of Tod Slaughter's films are very creaky, with only 'Sweeney Todd' and 'The Face at the Window' enjoyable for modern audiences. 'The Curse of the Wraydon' is very likely his worst. This material is beyond stagebound. At the alleged 'climax' of the film, two characters stand in a room and have a long slow conversation in which they agree that they ought to hurry to the old mill. When they finish this conversation, one of them says 'Hurry!', which is the cue for both of them to saunter towards the mill. As they approach the mill, they hear a scream. This prompts them to stop in their tracks and have another long conversation, in which they agree that they ought to investigate the scream. Having settled this, they stroll purposefully forward.
In this entire film, there's one and only one clever cinematic device. After Philip Wraydon frames Jack for his own crimes, a reward is posted for Jack Wraydon's capture. The reward is 100 guineas. (In real life, the reward would have been in pounds ... even though spade guineas were still in circulation in 1805.) We see the reward poster in close-up, while -- through a series of dissolves -- the reward gradually increases. This effect is spoilt somewhat by the fact that the reward handbill is printed in what is obviously 20th-century typography.
At the end of the film, Philip chucks his nephew Jack into one of those dungeon pits with walls that gradually move together, crushing anyone between them. All this time, we've been hearing about Jack's ability to leap to superhuman heights ... so now we expect finally to see that ability onscreen, even if it requires trick photography. Curses! Foiled again! Jack escapes from the pit by another method entirely ... and of course Tod Slaughter falls into the pit, just in time to get crushed by his own infernal machine.
'The Curse of the Wraydons' is so bang awful, I'm tempted to rate it zero points. But due to my interest in the actual Springheel Jack mystery -- which I mentioned in my novel 'The Woman Between the Worlds' -- I'll rate this movie one point out of 10. Consider yourself warned.