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"Do you take this werewolf -- I mean woman -- to be your lawful wedded wife?" "I -- I -- I -- ulp! -- do." In Victorian England, a wedding between a British aristocrat's son and a mysterious Romanian princess is thrown in jeopardy the night before the nuptials. A very droll, witty werewolf farce (aka "All the Wolves You Were") adapted from my stage play.
A wedding eve party is in full swing on the Prescott estate in the English countryside, late 1800s. Tomorrow young Master Lawrence Prescott will be joined in matrimony to a mysterious young Slobobian (don't even ask) princess, Elizabeth. The princess's family has established a summer residence nearby.
The Prescotts are desperate for this marriage to be consummated, hoping the royal Slobobian coffers can shore up the dwindling Prescott fortunes.
But there's a catch. Indeed, two. First, the princess and her family are peasants merely pretending to be royalty. And second, the princess begs Master Lawrence to call off the nuptials, revealing that she's a werewolf.
Things get farcically zany from there. The princess runs off to the moors. A search party is formed, a gypsy is consulted, and an amulet is devised to lift the girl's curse. But something goes awry -- the curse is on again, a crazed doctor who has discovered the Princess’ secret is determined to put a halt to the wedding, and Master Lawrence himself discovers that he is a werewolf. All gather in the church for an uproarious, hilarious, and very hairy set of marriage vows.