Contemporary
Werewolf Romps! 🐺
by
Kristin Battestella
These
recent lycanthrope lessons offer much good, but some bad and a bit of
ugly to the understandably hairy genre.
Howl
–
No
one wants to be on this rainy red eye train, but apathetic passengers
and passed over employees must unite when werewolves invade the cabin
cars in this 2015 parable directed by Paul Hyett (Dog Soldiers). Late
night stress and double shift monotony are well done as the full
moon, isolated forest, ticket checks, and cranky introductions set
the scene with who's rude on her phone, snotty old couples, frazzled
businesswomen, and the jerk with two sets of house keys. Rattling
rails, screeching brakes, and flickering lights escalate to unseen
attacks, thuds, squishes, and gore as the assertive adults and
inexperienced staff argue over who's in charge. Patchy emergency
contacts lead to a vote to walk to the next station before
disemboweled evidence, the race back to the train, and limb perils at
the plug door. Banging to be let in, scraping claws along the cabin
car, and the titular what you don't see but hear acerbate the meager
first aid, bloody wounds, and overnight delirium. Compartment damage,
no fuel, and no food add to the innate unease. Cramped bathroom
terrors provide whimpering, growls, and blood in shrewd
near-revelations as the camera cuts away from blurred assaults and
glowing eyes. The final claustrophobic entrance is realistically
scary thanks to poor defenses like fire extinguishers and an
emergency ax, and debates about what to do with the injured provide a
bitter social commentary about our dog eat dog alpha males who
survive at the expense of others. They are running out of cars to
retreat to and secure, and the carefully paced transformations mirror
the trapped ticktock and wait for daylight. This does feel slightly
long with repair attempts and inside attacks that seem out of order.
Unnecessary point of view breaks and shoddy CGI show the pack in
full, and the slow burn unravels amid under the train perils,
internal standoffs, and unfair deaths. The disturbing violence rushes
toward a weak confrontation, however overall this is an entertaining
late night entry to the werewolf genre.
I Am Lisa –
Pulsing chases, growls, gunshots, and moonlit nights open this 2020
werewolf embrace, but the law enforcement fix should have been held
back and the drive to the inherited bookstore wastes time. Starting
with a customer ordering a lycanthrope volume and condolences on the
deceased is enough to introduce our eponymous small town
nonconformist. Local mean girls bully, steal, and threaten Lisa, but
the ringleader's mom is the sheriff so nothing is done. Self love
jokes about not needing a man, waitress flirtations, and BFF
intimacy, however, feel baity, for Lisa is straight and rejects a
kiss from said mean girl. The rotten sheriff insists it's not an
assault if no one gets hurt and it's Lisa's attitude problem that's
disturbing the peace, so she endorses the mean girls beating Lisa.
The pliers, gagging, and blood in this sanctioned violence is
disturbing enough, and a further implied sexual assault is
unnecessary as Lisa is dumped in the woods and left to the wolves.
Choice jump cut camerawork accents the tears, echoes, and fragmented
experience as the bite wounds heal quickly and the police revelations
escalate. Lisa is shocked at her own behavior when she first attacks
the weakest of the mean girl pack, but she needs to learn to control
what's happening, embrace it, and make them pay. Slow, realistic eye,
teeth, heightened senses, and vocal changes match the swift neck
snapping, throat slicings, and moments of remorse while old books
provide silver, calendar, and crossbreed information. More time is
unfortunately spent on cliches than who knows about the werewolves,
who has been hunting them, branding them with silver, and why. It's
also unrealistic how her whereabouts are terribly obvious yet Lisa
goes uncaught until the script says so. You can tell this was written
and directed by men thanks to every woman coming off as a tough angry
lesbian with an attitude. Structural flaws fall back on stereotypical
montages with bad
ass hoodies, cool
music, raw steaks, dog treats, and The
Werewolf
of Washington. Nonsensical
explanations don't fully reiterate the transformative mythos and
silver ax potential,
and
the taking ownership metaphors run out of steam in the overlong,
contrived final
confrontation. Though in need of a trim or polish thanks to
unnecessary scene transitions and poor dialogue, this largely
charming piece stays with a character who's just trying to be true to
herself.
Skip
It!
A Werewolf in England
– Speeding carriages, top hats, throwback music, and candlelight
invoke a Hammer mood as our bondsman and his shackled prisoner stop
at the Three Claws Inn for this 2020 horror comedy. Unfortunately,
the super tight camera angles are clearly cutting corners, the acting
is amateur, and the exaggerated voices are too hammy. Every single
person is trying on funny quips and combined with the kooky weird
brother and sister innkeepers, it's all just too much. The obviously
fake full moon above the manor is enough to set a sardonic wink,
however there's no time to chuckle over the two dollar lady of the
evening available or the hear tell of a previous guest dying of
perforated bowels in the bed, and the rattling sex scene while the
prisoner is chained to the action goes on far too long before a cheap
chamber pot gag. We shouldn't know about the werewolves up front, but
our writer/producer/director/cinematographer/editor gives away that
the proprietors are in on serving their clientele to the local
lycanthropes when we shouldn't suspect their killer plans until
guests spot blood dripping on the furniture. The beheadings,
dismemberment, and pleas for mercy before a claw slice at the throat
are fine. Intense crescendos and chorales with over the top slow
motion are appropriate satire, but the drawn out battle scenes with
over-editing and nothing burger pawing undo the gore and eerie
lighting. It's tough to tell what's scary or the hoot because the
constant cackling is falling flat trying to be both. Some territorial
foul is reasonable, but the unnecessarily long
werewolf diarrhea scene removes any horror even if the conspicuous
people in wolf suits is deliberate. Subtle humor – such as breaking
and entering wolves that make surprisingly little noise or using a
lot of little things to block the door when a sturdy piece of
furniture is right there – is all the viewer needs, yet one too
many crotch jokes and montages of cleaning guns but not washing off
the wolfy poo become an overlong exercise in what not to do.
Contrived endings play into all the cliches, and I'm going to go
ahead and pass on the medieval prequel/sequel Werewolf
Castle.
