One of the pleasures of this project -- which, after all, revolves around that mammoth Mill Creek 250-movie "horror" box set, in case you've forgotten -- is discovering actors and actresses whom we might never have otherwise encountered, but who stick with us long after we finish watching their film(s). From the all-American charisma of Don Sullivan, to the proto-Cuddy charms of Evelyn Brent, to the road-trip-worthy humor of Paul Bentzen, all have earned a place in our hearts.
To this pantheon of greats (or at least memorables), we must now add another -- and if you've noticed the title of this entry, or just read our previous one, you'll already know who's stepping to the fore. We've seen four of his films so far, and unlike our usual habit, we're going to review all of them at once, en bloc:
Crimes at the Dark House (1940)
Grade: B+
The Crimes of Stephen Hawke (1936)
Maria Marten, or Murder in the Red Barn (1936)
Never Too Late [aka It's Never Too Late to Mend] (1937)
Has anyone ever made evil seem more fun than Tod Slaughter? When it comes to his characters' immortal souls, he seizes -- and palpably enjoys -- any and all opportunities to add a blot to the old escutcheon. Whether he's breaking the spines of small children, murdering pregnant women, consigning prisoners to pointless torture, or simply committing more humdrum crimes like fraud, forgery, and fornication, he simply can't conceal his glee at repeatedly and persistently doing the wrong thing.
What's more, unlike so many modern-day villains (fictional or real), Slaughter expresses no remorse or contrition whatsoever when he's finally caught and cornered (and he always is). If anything he seems relieved to finally be able to unleash the full power of his unhinged malevolence, without having to hide it under a thin veneer of English gentility.
One funny irony is that, in the four films under consideration, the most sympathetic character of the bunch is the serial killer Stephen Hawke. True, the man is a ruthless moneylender and unrepentant murderer, but at least he genuinely loves his daughter -- his adopted daughter, no less (Marjorie Taylor, who looks like she could be Jenny Toomey's grandmother or something).
Otherwise Slaughter's characters are completely devoid of conscience or scruple. For them, crimes against property (theft, mail tampering, perjury) or person (drugging, rape, murder) are all means to the same end: the thrill of power, the pleasure of deception, and the exultation of the ill-gotten gain.
And all of them elicit the same mirthful cackle, the same undisguised pleasure -- as one commenter on another site notes, "He bounces when he walks" -- and, if there's a mustache available, you can bet it's in for a twiddling.
Of course, there are downsides to playing what, in truth, is essentially the same character over and over again -- though it's a damn good character, and he was absolutely born to play it. But Slaughter's films inevitably blur together in one's mind, so that it becomes hard to recall which particular act of villainy took place in which film.
It also doesn't help that many of the same actors and actresses are recycled from film to film. Eric Portman, the "gypsy" in Maria Marten, is subsequently the daughter's love interest in Crimes of Stephen Hawke; meanwhile, D.J. Williams shows up as someone's father in three of these four films.
And Marjorie Taylor, who played Slaughter's daughter in Hawke, becomes the object of his amorous intentions in Never Too Late to Mend. (Ew.)
Adding to the confusion, Slaughter -- or his scriptwriter -- certainly has no qualms about reusing lines wholesale from film to film, e.g.:
Maria Marten: "Didn't I make you a promise, Maria? I promised to make you a bride. Don't be afraid, Maria. You shall be a bride...a bride of Death!"
Crimes at the Dark House: "So you wanted to be a bride, my dear Jessica, did you? So you shall be: a bride of Death!"
That said, the net effect is a bit like Homer's constant repetition of stereotyped formulae in the Iliad and Odyssey. (A similar phenomenon can be observed in any music venue with "Blues" in its name.)
In other words, somehow it's not really a problem. In much the same way that "clunk-clunk" and "The guest star did it" characterize the Law & Order franchise and its descendants, the self-similarity of Slaughter's films ultimately becomes part of our expectations -- as it no doubt did for audiences of his stage productions, who happily (and consensually) booed and hissed at his entrances.
Still, we're able to differentiate these films enough to know that Crimes at the Dark House, which was the first Slaughter film we saw, is also the best. Its tale of impersonation, impregnation, and conflagration offers the most complex and rewarding plot, and the secondary characters here are more fully developed than the comparatively two-dimensional figures of the other films: even minor roles get memorable moments.
Slaughter is at his most diabolical here: if we're not mistaken, this film has the highest body count of the four. Certainly its grim intentions are evident from the start, when it opens in Australia with a character getting a spike to the brain courtesy of good ol' Tod.
Crimes at the Dark House also features a scene of (very strongly) implied rape that, though not graphic in the slightest, is genuinely difficult to watch -- far more so than in a film like, say, Werewolf Woman. There's no deus ex machina or anything, just bad things happening to nice people.
Meanwhile Maria Marten is the weediest of the bunch -- though in fairness, the copy supplied to Mill Creek is missing nearly 10 minutes. If anything, though, the film's pacing is too slack, with the final act really sagging in a way that we didn't see in the other films.
Its running time is further padded by a theatrical introduction that seems intended to remind viewers of Slaughter's prominence on the stage. Complete with village musicians and a pompous MC, it's a strange conceit that hardly seems necessary.
Even stranger is the frame around Crimes of Stephen Hawke, which begins with a short, in-studio performance by an English musical comedy duo, "Flotsam and Jetsam". If there's a purpose behind their inclusion, it completely escaped us.
Slaughter is then introduced as himself. Looking rather dapper (and conspicuously bereft of 'stache), he steps up to the mic.
After some brief remarks, the actual film begins, and this framing device is completely forgotten -- until the very end, when we cut back to the studio and Slaughter tiptoes out while his interviewer snoozes! It seems weirdly disrespectful to the great actor, almost as though Crimes of Stephen Hawke is trying to distance itself from its own existence.
Fortunately, the meat of the film is unharmed by its strange packaging, and Hawke makes up for its tepid introduction by, in its opening sequence, having Slaughter straight-up murder a little kid. Hays Code be damned, that's the stuff!
Finally there's Never Too Late, aka It's Never Too Late to Mend, based on a book that allegedly sparked major prison reform in England. As in Maria Marten, Slaughter plays a dastardly squire who fraudulently brings the wrath of the law upon a dashing young rogue -- in this case, Tom Robinson (Jack Livesey).
However, the love interest here isn't Robinson, but George Fielding (Ian Colin), an impecunious lad who's about to leave for Australia, in hopes of earning enough money to marry the girl of his dreams. The Squire tries to get rid of Fielding by framing him, but Robinson takes the fall willingly for his friend -- though if he'd known the hell that awaited him in prison, he might have had second thoughts.
Never Too Late wraps up its multiple plot threads a bit hastily, and its closing standoff isn't nearly as gratifying as the marvelously unhinged end of Crimes of Stephen Hawke (from which it cribs a few lines of dialogue). Still, it's entertaining throughout, and its cynical depiction of the lazy, venal English prison administrators is, unfortunately, as timely as ever.
It's a shame that this wonderful actor's work isn't better known, as it's such good fun to watch him stalk, caper, giggle, and bounce through his diabolical roles. We're very pleased to have two more Slaughter movies awaiting us in the box set (The Ticket of Leave Man and The Face at the Window), and are looking forward to seeking out his other available films and TV appearances as well -- not that there's all that much of it, as several of his films are lost.
We can only hope that some of that lost work -- we're curious about Darby and Joan -- reemerges from the shadows. (Heh-heh-heh...)
Next up: the third edition of the Umbrellahead Awards!
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