WolfCop (2014) – Review

Low-budget horror comedies are a tricky beast. They can be too self-aware and try-hard (Sharknado), or they can embrace their ridiculous premise and lean into the absurdity with genuine charm. WolfCop falls firmly into the latter category. This 2014 Canadian cult film is a love letter to grindhouse schlock, 80s practical effects, and small-town weirdness, delivering a gory, goofy, and surprisingly fun experience.

Written and directed by Lowell Dean, this Canadian film defies expectations and combines two seemingly incompatible genres—police procedural and werewolf horror—into a gory, over-the-top B-movie experience. The main character of this tale is Lou Garou (Leo Fafard), a washed-up, perpetually drunk cop in the sleepy town of Woodhaven. His biggest skills include sleeping on the job, chugging whisky, and half-heartedly solving crimes. One night, Lou responds to a report of a disturbance in the woods, where instead of partying teenagers he finds signs of a strange ritual—bloody symbols, and the strung-up body of mayoral candidate Terry Wallace (Ryland Alexander). But before he can react, he is knocked unconscious. When he wakes up at home the next morning, he is disoriented and finds a pentagram carved into his chest. Worse, he starts experiencing strange symptoms—heightened senses, enhanced strength, and an overwhelming craving for raw meat and alcohol. Then comes the full moon and poor Lou is soon sprouting hair and claws and tearing people into messy body parts.

The long claw of the law.

At first, Lou is horrified to find out that he’s now part-cop, part-monster, but it turns out being a werewolf has its perks! Enhanced strength, heightened senses, and a thirst for justice (and maybe still a bit of alcohol). With his trusty buddy Willie Higgins (Jonathan Cherry), a conspiracy theory-loving, beer-guzzling sidekick, Lou embraces his new role as the town’s first WolfCop—because why fight crime as an ordinary officer when you can do it with fangs and claws? Soon he realizes he has been cursed by a satanic cult and he undergoes a grotesque transformation into WolfCop—a fanged, furry enforcer of justice who’s still somehow addicted to booze. With his trusty sidearm and new abilities, he begins cleaning up Woodhaven in the most violent way possible. He takes down robbers, drug dealers, and thugs, leaving a trail of dismembered criminals in his wake.

Dirty Hairy

Watching WolfCop bust up crime is a treat. He doesn’t just stop criminals—he rips them apart. He fights corrupt politicians, cultists, and sleazy criminals, all while still finding time to drink heavily and drive his Wolfmobile (yes, there’s a Wolfmobile, and it’s glorious). Then there is no-nonsense officer Tina Walsh (Amy Matysio), who does her best to figure out what is going on in her beloved town and whether or not it has anything to do with her father’s death during the last solar eclipse. Oh, and did I mention there’s a werewolf sex scene? Because there’s a werewolf sex scene. It’s like Beauty and the Beast, but way furrier and way weirder.

Red Hot Riding Hood.

As Lou investigates his transformation, a sinister conspiracy in Woodhaven is unveiled; it seems the town’s most powerful figures— including the corrupt mayor and a group of wealthy elites—are shape-shifting reptilian creatures who have been secretly ruling the town for generations. Every few years, during a solar eclipse, they conduct a blood ritual to steal the power of a werewolf and extend their own unnatural lives. Lou was chosen as their latest sacrifice. Or trio must work together to uncover the town’s supernatural conspiracy before Lou’s inner beast is used for something far worse than just fighting crime. And just what does the mysterious bartender Jessica Barratt (Sarah Lind) have to do with any of this?

“I’m not a reptilian cultist, honest.”

Stray Observations:

• The main character is named Lou Garou, get it? “Loup-garou”? Because French werewolf puns are classy.
• There’s a scene in front of an auto-body repair shop called “Stiles Autobody.” Stiles was Scott Howard’s best friend in Teen Wolf.
• If your town’s police force only consists of three people, maybe having the town drunk doubling as a police officer is a bad idea. That’s how you end up with evil cults running around.
• When Lou shaves his stubble immediately grows, making me wonder if he was a werewolf or possibly fell under the Santa Clause.
• The phrase “Hair of the dog that bit you” takes on extra meaning when you’re an alcoholic and a werewolf.
• This film boasts some very cool transformations, and the werewolf bursting out of its human host is very reminiscent of the Neil Marshall film The Company of Wolves.

Talk about a splitting headache.

At first glance, one might wonder if WolfCop is attempting to make a statement about societal issues or human nature; however, the film’s thematic content is secondary to its more overt goal of pure goofy entertainment. The blending of the police procedural with supernatural horror and comedy results in a uniquely absurd product, where werewolf transformations and action sequences are juxtaposed with mundane police work, such as filing paperwork or questioning witnesses. This blending of genres is purposeful, as it plays on the idea of the ordinary clashing with the extraordinary. Lou Garou, for example, is not a noble hero nor a typical action star. He is, at his core, a deeply flawed man who finds himself thrust into a bizarre and violent new reality, leading to a series of comedic misadventures. The film thus functions as both a homage and a satire of genre conventions.

 

A cop who can’t be stopped…literally.

The film’s self-aware humour is one of its most defining features. Rather than attempting to create something highbrow or thought-provoking, WolfCop relishes in its silliness. Puns and visual gags abound, and the film even indulges in outrageous set pieces—like the infamous werewolf sex scene—that are meant to provoke laughter, not moral reflection. This disregard for seriousness enables the film to revel in its own campiness. However, the humour never becomes completely slapstick or absurd for the sake of it. Instead, it is grounded in the genre tropes the film is riffing on, such as the tough-as-nails cop who operates on the fringes of the law or the villainous conspiracy lurking beneath the surface of a seemingly idyllic small town.

 

This film gets bonus points for a conspiracy involving lizard people.

One of the most memorable aspects of WolfCop is its use of practical effects, particularly in the transformation scenes. The werewolf make-up and prosthetics exude a gritty, old-school charm, and while not as polished as Hollywood blockbusters, these transformation sequences are visceral and grotesque, evoking classics like An American Werewolf in London and The Howling. The body horror elements are effective, depicting the painful and grotesque process of transformation with surprising detail. Skin stretches, bones crack, and facial features distort, resulting in an uncomfortable yet fascinating viewing experience. This commitment to practical effects, rather than relying on CGI, imbues the film with an authenticity and tactile quality that works in its favour.

 

The gore on hand is brutal but fun.

The film also excels in its depiction of violence, embracing the over-the-top brutality that often characterizes B-movie horror. WolfCop’s physical confrontations are punctuated by geysers of blood, limbs being torn off, and gory dismemberment. These graphic moments, while intense, are never meant to be taken seriously. They are exaggerated to such a degree that they feel more like comic book panels come to life, heightening the film’s playful atmosphere. There is a certain joy in seeing a werewolf cop blast his way through a corrupt political conspiracy, and the practical effects ensure that the audience feels the weight of every violent encounter. All this film was missing was a cool theme song.

 

“Da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da WolfCop!”

In conclusion, WolfCop is a refreshing dive into pure genre fun. It is a film that understands its limitations and wholeheartedly embraces them, offering audiences a bloody, irreverent, and frequently hilarious ride. It’s Teen Wolf meets RoboCop meets a six-pack of beer, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. This film is dumb in all the right ways, self-aware, and loaded with practical effects that would make 80s horror proud. A must for fans of werewolf movies or just anyone hoping for a good time.

Force: Five (1981) – Review

Directed by Robert Clouse, the man who helmed the classic Bruce Lee film Enter the Dragon, this film promised all the high-octane martial arts action you could hope for, but did it deliver on that premise?  Not quite, instead of a cool badass martial arts flick, we got an embarrassing misfire that failed to capitalize on its premise or its cast. I give you Force Five!

The story follows a team of martial artists recruited to take down a dangerous cult led by the laughably one-dimensional Reverend Rhee (Bong Soo Ham). What could have been a tense, exciting showdown between good and evil is instead an incoherent series of poorly executed fight scenes interspersed with bland dialogue and amateurish performances. The plot kicks off with a failed assassination attempt on the Reverend – a poor excuse for a sniper – but what is Reverend Rhee’s deal, why would anyone want this guy dead? Well, it turns out that under the guise of spiritual enlightenment, Rhee has amassed a following of brainwashed devotees, including influential individuals from across the globe, and he’s using his cult as a front for illegal arms dealings and a growing threat to world peace.

 

Could he be developing a glitter bomb?

When Rhee recruits Cindy Lester (Amanda Wyss), the daughter of a wealthy industrialist, her father turns to the U.S. government for help in getting her back home. Traditional military action is off the table, as Rhee’s fortress is heavily guarded, and the mission requires a more covert approach. Enter Force: Five, an elite team of martial arts experts with the skills to infiltrate the island and dismantle Rhee’s operation. Their objectives are threefold: infiltrate the compound, rescue the brainwashed heiress (who joined the cult after one too many self-help seminars), and dismantle Rhee’s cult organization.

 

If this is “The Best of the Best,” we’re in trouble.

The Dream Team:

• Jim Martin (Joe Lewis): The leader. He’s all business, unless the business involves smiling, which he clearly skipped in training.
• Billy Ortega (Benny “The Jet” Urquidez): The fiery scrapper with fists like dynamite and a voice like he’s late for his bus.
• Lockjaw (Sonny Barnes): The powerhouse who can break bones with his pinky finger and probably bend steel bars just by looking at them.
• Ezekiel (Richard Norton): The Australian with a deadly boomerang kick. He’s there to make sure no fight is complete without a grunt-laden one-liner.
• Laurie (Pam Huntington): The token woman, because even ’80s action movies occasionally remember women exist. Her only qualification seems to be the willingness to sleep with Martin.

 

“Couldn’t you call your friend Cynthia Rothrock?”

Before heading to Rhee’s Island – essentially a villainous summer camp – the team has to make and retrieve helicopter pilot Willard (Ron Hayden), who is being held in a South American prison, and not only does this side quest use up an inordinate amount of screen time, but it also doesn’t make a lot of sense. They have to fight unarmed through dozens of guards to extract him from this prison, but all that is required of him on this mission is to drop them off as visiting aides of Senator Forrester (Peter MacLean). And sure, he does fake an electrical fire and a “crash landing” so that he and the rest of the team are forced to stay on the island, but as the film is called Force: Five and not Force: Six, his inclusion is about as necessary as condoms at a fertility clinic.

 

“Hey, the producer owed me a favour, back off!”

Needless to say, when they eventually reach the island, every third person they meet turns out to be a kung fu master, with each cult member trained in synchronized martial arts and wearing matching uniforms because nothing says “evil” like coordinated outfits. After some nightly wanderings that prove these guys are not great spies, things quickly escalate into chaos. From there on out, our heroes face off against more henchmen than a Cobra Commander convention and who are about as effective but just as enthusiastic. Every one of them, regardless of rank, throws a single punch before dramatically flipping through the air like they’ve been hit by a freight train. But if they fail, the punishment is, of course, death.

 

Job opportunities in the martial arts world must be scarce.

The movie careens from one fight scene to the next, with dialogue acting as a mere breather between roundhouse kicks. There’s an awkward attempt at espionage (where stealth means loudly announcing your presence), but the real star here is the action choreography. Expect slow-motion high-flying kicks, dramatic zoom-ins, and sound effects so exaggerated they could wake the dead. After bulldozing through waves of enemies like they’re NPCs in a video game, the team finally reaches Reverend Rhee, who—surprise! —is also a martial arts master. What ensues is a hilariously over-the-top final battle that features elaborate acrobatics, a few obvious stunt doubles, and some philosophical one-liners that make you question if Rhee is fighting or auditioning for a TED Talk.

 

“Before the torture begins, I’d like to talk to you about Amway.”

Stray Observations:

• Robert Clouse helmed the spectacularly goofy film Gymkata, another entry in the category of athletic spies who have the charisma of wet dishrags.
• Jim Martin has to fight through a gauntlet of his own martial arts students to reach his breakfast, which, while a little pretentious, is a good way to build up an appetite.
• The team’s pilot is a bit mentally unhinged and a ladies’ man – basically, he’s one part Murdock to two parts Face – and I’m starting to wonder if the television series The A-Team ripped off this movie.
• Martin removes his hood twice during a nighttime recon mission, which is not the best idea if you don’t want to blow your cover. Was he worried it would mess up his nicely coiffed hair?
• After being tortured, enemies of Reverend Rhee are released into a labyrinth of underground corridors where they are chased down and killed by a bull. That it wasn’t a Minotaur adds another missed opportunity to the list of this film’s crimes.
• Reverend Rhee is part Bond villain, part yoga instructor, with a wardrobe that screams “kung fu cult leader on a budget.” He’s not so much a “Dr. No” as he is a “Dr. Maybe.”
• Rhee’s henchmen are so incompetent that you start to root for them to land a single hit. The Stormtroopers of Star Wars fame are the epitome of competence by comparison.

 

Maybe white uniforms are simply a bad idea for minions.

The characters are little more than clichés. Each team member is supposed to bring a unique skill to the table, but their personalities and backstories are so thin that it’s hard to care about any of them. The leader is generic, the female character is there for token representation, and the rest are barely distinguishable from one another. There’s no chemistry or camaraderie to make their interactions engaging or even interesting. The action, which should be the heart of the movie, is underwhelming at best. The fight choreography is repetitive, sluggish, and uninspired, with little creativity or intensity. And despite having the likes of Benny “The Jet” Urquidez and Richard Norton in the cast, the fight scenes are weak and uninspired, which is a crime as these two are legitimate great fighters. They are both vastly underutilized here.

 

“Hey man, I’ve fought both Jackie Chan and Sammo Hung!”

Reverend Rhee, the villain, is laughably ineffectual. His cult, supposedly threatening enough to warrant the formation of this elite team, comes off as more of a low-budget LARPing group than a legitimate menace. The stakes never feel real, and the plot meanders without building any tension. To make matters worse, the film’s production values are subpar. The sets look cheap, the pacing drags, and the editing is choppy, further undercutting any potential for excitement. Even the music, which could have added some much-needed energy, feels generic and uninspired. And despite its short runtime, Force Five feels much longer, dragging through tedious exposition and clunky transitions that suck the energy out of what little momentum it manages to build. The final fight between Martin and Reverend Rhee takes place in a smoke-filled hallway, which comes across as a low-rent version of the conclusion of Enter the Dragon. Because, seriously, who needs to see what’s going on?

 

This is so much better than a room of mirrors.

In conclusion, Force: Five is a glorious mix of ’80s martial arts clichés, bizarre dialogue, and over-the-top action. It’s not here to win Oscars; it’s here to show you what happens when five martial artists with questionable chemistry take on an evil cult because…well, why not? The movie is as serious as a roundhouse kick to the face, but twice as funny. If you’re looking for a film where logic takes a backseat to endless punches, flying kicks, and gratuitous nudity, this film delivers in spades.

Teen Wolf (1985) – Review

The 1980s were a golden age for teen comedies, a decade filled with coming-of-age stories, high school dramas, and quirky tales of self-discovery. Among these films stands Teen Wolf, an entry that adds fur to the allegory of puberty and the trials and tribulations of being a teenager.

If you’ve ever seen a teen comedy before not much will surprise you in Teen Wolf, aside from the supernatural element the “plot” checks off all the required boxes. Scott Howard (Michael J. Fox) is your average 1980s high school nobody. He’s not particularly cool, athletic, or confident—just a regular kid trying to make it through life at Beacon Town High. His biggest problems are unrequited love for the popular girl Pamela (Lorie Griffin), getting picked on by her meathead boyfriend Mick (Mark Arnold), and being the least valuable player on the school’s woeful basketball team, the Beavers.

 

Not Hoop Dreams, more like Hoop Nightmares.

Life’s not exactly a slam dunk for Scott, but things take a strange turn one night when he starts noticing some... unusual changes. He’s sprouting hair in places he didn’t expect (and a lot of it), his senses are sharper, and his temper is harder to control. At first, he thinks it’s just puberty kicking in with a vengeance, but during a heated moment at home, Scott transforms into a full-blown werewolf right in front of his dad, Harold (James Hampton), who, by the way, is also a werewolf. Surprise, Scott—it runs in the family!

 

“Well, son, turns out your mother was a bitch.”

At first, Scott is horrified. How is he supposed to navigate high school as a teenage werewolf? But soon, he discovers that being part wolf has its perks. His newfound abilities—super strength, agility, and an unnatural knack for basketball—quickly turn him from benchwarmer to school legend. The once-mediocre Beavers become an unstoppable force with Scott (or "The Wolf") leading the charge, and he goes from overlooked underdog to the most popular guy in town. With his popularity skyrocketing, Scott’s life takes a major turn. His best friend Stiles (Jerry Levine), the ultimate 80s hustler, sees a golden opportunity to cash in on Scott’s wolfy fame, selling t-shirts, hosting wild parties, and turning Scott into a walking brand. Meanwhile, the girl-next-door Boof (Susan Ursitti) patiently waits for Scott to notice her while Pamela, the girl of his dreams, finally gives him the time of day—because, well, who wouldn’t want to date a werewolf superstar?

 

Is this Romance or Call of the Wild?

But all that glitters isn’t gold. As Scott gets swept up in his new identity, he starts losing sight of who he really is. His ego grows as big as his fur coat, his teammates resent him hogging the spotlight, and he distances himself from the people who truly care about him. Even his dad warns him about the dangers of letting "The Wolf" take over. The climax comes down to the championship basketball game, where Scott faces a choice: rely on his wolf powers to guarantee victory or play as himself—flaws, nerves, and all. What follows is a classic underdog moment filled with 80s music, slow-motion shots, and a satisfying moral about staying true to yourself. The film concludes with Scott deciding to play the big game as himself and not “The Wolf” and after a rousing speech to his teammates, where he tells them, "Look, this is the championship. Now, it doesn't matter how we got here, we're here, and if we are gonna win, we have to pull it off ourselves. You don't need the wolf." Really? I think it actually does matter how they got there. Did he forget that his team sucks ass and that the only reason they've won any games at all was because he turned into a werewolf?

 

"Wait a minute, we have no talent whatsoever. How did we win?"

Stray Observations:

• Michael J. Fox is not the first “Teen Wolf” that honour goes to Michael Landon in the 1957 "horror classic" I Was a Teenage Werewolf.
• Scott Howard's house was located on the same block as 1955 George McFly's and Lorraine Baines' houses from Back to the Future.
• A kid blowing a dog whistle causes Scott incredible pain but seems to have no effect on his werewolf dad, who is standing right behind him.
• I know this is a silly teen comedy, but I’m surprised that none of the other schools complained about a werewolf playing on a high school basketball team. He’s basically playing with the supernatural equivalent of steroids.
• The hero is blind to the fact that his female best friend is attractive and into him. I must say, this film will let no teen movie cliché be left untouched.
• Scott, in werewolf form, has sex with Pamela, yet the word “bestiality” is never brought up. I guess that would have gotten the film an “R” rating.
• This film is about a basketball-playing werewolf, but it’s clear that director Rod Daniel has no idea how the game is played, as characters break pretty much every rule of the game, constantly.
• His dad gives him the “With great power comes great responsibility,” but he never once decides to use his werewolf power to fight crime.

 

"Is there even crime in this town?"

Directed by Rod Daniel, this is a film that thrives on charm and nostalgia but stumbles when subjected to any sort of critical scrutiny. Where it succeeds in being lighthearted and entertaining, sadly, it falls quite short in the narrative depth and character development. The script by Jeph Loeb and Matthew Weisman barely scratches the surface of Scott’s werewolf identity. The film sidesteps any exploration of what it means to balance human and wolfish instincts in favour of goofy gags and sports montages. Additionally, the film’s portrayal of Scott’s werewolf abilities raises questions that go unanswered. Why does everyone so easily accept a literal werewolf playing high school basketball? Why is the transformation never shown to have a darker or more dangerous side? These oversights rob the story of tension and credibility, even within its fantastical premise.

 

This is a portrait of teen angst.

The portrayal of high school life and relationships is often cartoonish to a fault, with the supporting cast mostly reduced to stereotypes. We get Stiles as the wacky best friend, Pamela as the unattainable love interest, and Boof as the girl-next-door archetype. Not breaking any new ground there. Then there is Coach Finstock (Jay Tarses), whose character leans too heavily on slapstick humour – though calling what he provides "humour" may be a little too generous – while others, like the antagonistic Mick, are one-dimensional to the point of parody. The reliance on physical comedy and groan-worthy dialogue at times undermines the film’s emotional beats. Though, to be fair, can an audience expect more from a movie about a basketball-playing lycanthrope?

 

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

It’s safe to say the film's success has more to do with Michael J. Fox’s performance than anything else in this movie. Coming off the popularity of his series Family Ties, and his breakout role as Marty McFly in Back to the Future, Fox brought his signature charm and relatability to Teen Wolf. His portrayal of Scott Howard captures the awkwardness and vulnerability of adolescence, making his transformation into the confident and athletic werewolf both humorous and endearing. It is Fox’s comedic timing and ability to balance the fantastical elements of the story with grounded emotion that anchors the film, elevating it beyond its otherwise campy premise.

Note: For a movie about a werewolf, the transformation scenes are shockingly unimpressive. The makeup and effects are minimal, leaving Scott looking more like a hairy basketball player than a creature of legend.

Fox’s inestimable talent aside, what sets Teen Wolf apart is its unabashed embrace of camp with the werewolf transformation scenes created to be more amusing than frightening – this film never once tries to be An American Werewolf in London or The Howling – and the absurdity reaches its peak during moments like Scott’s van-surfing antics, set to the upbeat track "Surfing U.S.A.," a sequence that perfectly encapsulates the film’s mix of humour and ridiculousness. Unfortunately, the movie glosses over the ethical implications of Scott using his werewolf powers to dominate the basketball court. There’s little introspection or accountability, which leaves the moral centre of the film feeling muddled.

 

Who needs a moral centre when we have stuff like this?

In conclusion, Teen Wolf is undeniably fun but also undeniably flawed. It coasts on Michael J. Fox’s charm and the quirky premise but fails to deliver a compelling story or meaningful character arcs. And while it has earned a place in pop culture history as an '80s oddity, it’s more of a guilty pleasure than a genuinely great movie. For all its howls, this film ultimately lacks bite.

Worst Vacation Spots in Horror

If horror films have taught us one thing it’s that going on the road is almost a sure way to get yourself killed, which got me thinking, when it comes to the movies “What are the worst places for a vacationer to visit?”

Horror films have long captivated audiences with their ability to evoke fear and suspense, often utilizing eerie and atmospheric settings to enhance the chilling narrative. Behind the bloodcurdling screams and heart-pounding moments lies a crucial element: the locations where these tales unfold. From ominous forests to decrepit mansions, horror film locations play a pivotal role in shaping the mood and intensity of the story, immersing viewers into a world where the line between reality and nightmare blurs. Below is a list of places that are a must-see for fans of horror.

 

• Camp Crystal Lake – “Come for the canoeing, stay for the killing.” Though the series is called Friday the 13th, this particular campsite is best avoided any day of the week.

 

• The Bates Motel – If you are a young woman getting room number one in Hitchcock’s Psycho there’s a good chance you’ll never check out, especially if you take a shower.

 

• The Overlook Hotel – The brochure for Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining clearly left out the fact that the hotel was built on an ancient Indian burial ground and that kind of information is very important.

 

• Motel Hello – This entrepreneur-run establishment in Motel Hell traps travellers and harvests them for the owner’s human sausages and redefines the term “Secret Garden.”

 

• The Appalachian Mountains – Going spelunking in Neil Marshall’s film The Descent is a scary and dangerous vacation spot even before the blind cannibals appear.

 

• The Starlight Hotel – This quaint little rest stop from Tobe Hooper’s Eaten Alive has the bonus of containing a Nile Crocodile capable of quick and bloody waste disposal.

 

• Mayan Ruins—A vacation in Mexico should be fun, with lots of free-flowing Tequila and inhibition-free women. But in Carter Smith’s The Ruins, a group of Americans have a bad experience with an ancient temple and some nasty plants.

 

• Rural Tennessee – If we learned anything by watching Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead films it’s that the worst place to plan a vacation has to be a cabin in the woods, bad shit is just bound to happen.

 

• Backpacking in Europe – In Eli Roth’s Hostel the porn supplied isn’t of the pay-per-view variety; instead, it’s nasty torture porn.

 

• The North York Moors in England – “Stay off the moors” is good advice and could save you from becoming An American Werewolf in London, and will prevent you from having a Blue Moon.

 

• Amity Island – A seaside trip on the 4th of July may sound like a fun idea at first, that is until a Great White Shark puts the tourists on the menu in Spielberg’s Jaws.

 

• New Mexico – Wes Craven’s The Hills Have Eyes proves that the Griswolds aren’t the worst family planners. And if we learn anything, it’s not always the journey that is important but the kind of people you meet along the way.

 

• Room 1408 – In this Stephen King adaptation, while the guests may check into the fabled 1408, getting a wake-up call for horror is the best they can hope for.

 

• Roadside Attractions – While on route you a vacation spot you may decide to make a pit stop and check out local attractions, but it’s best to avoid David Schmoeller’s Tourist Trap.

Horror film locations are more than just backdrops – they are integral components of the storytelling process, imbued with symbolism and atmosphere that heighten the tension and suspense. From their ability to amplify atmosphere to their cultural significance, these settings play a vital role in shaping the narrative and eliciting fear in audiences. As long as there are horror films, these enigmatic locations will continue to captivate and terrify viewers, reminding us of the enduring power of place in the realm of cinematic terror.

The Curse of the Werewolf (1961) – Review

With this entry, Hammer Films sinks its claws into the werewolf mythos with Gothic flair, delivering a moody, atmospheric take on lycanthropy, and with the great Oliver Reed as the title creature, this had all the earmarks of being a horror classic. What could possibly go wrong?

Set in 18th-century Spain, The Curse of the Werewolf begins with the tragic tale of a beggar (Richard Wordsworth) who is imprisoned and brutally mistreated after offending a cruel nobleman (Anthony Dawson). Years later, the beggar’s fate intertwines with that of a mute servant girl (Yvonne Romain) who is also subjected to cruelty within the nobleman’s household. The servant eventually escapes but is raped by the beggar before he dies in his cell. The result of this traumatic union is Leon, a child born on Christmas Day—a circumstance that, according to local superstition, curses him with a monstrous destiny.

 

Puberty is a bitch, especially when you’re cursed.

Adopted by a kind couple, Don Alfredo Corledo (Clifford Evans) and his servant Teresa (Hira Talfrey), Leon grows up in a loving home but begins to show signs of a horrifying affliction. As he reaches adulthood, his cursed bloodline reveals itself in violent, uncontrollable episodes that coincide with the full moon. Leon (Oliver Reed) struggles to suppress the beast within, yearning for normalcy and love. He finds hope in the form of Christina Fernando (Catherine Feller), the daughter of a wealthy landowner, whose affection seems to soothe his tortured soul. However, Leon’s attempts to lead a normal life are thwarted as his transformations into a werewolf grow more frequent and deadly. Despite his own anguish and the efforts of those who care for him, Leon’s curse consumes him, leaving a trail of tragedy in its wake.

 

Can beauty soothe this savage beast?

Tormented by his condition and desperate to prevent himself from harming others, Leon seeks help, but his transformation into a werewolf becomes inevitable. As his monstrous side takes hold, the townspeople grow increasingly terrified, leading to a climactic confrontation in which Leon’s tragic fate is sealed. This is a Gothic tale of fate, love, and monstrous duality, one that explores the human struggle against inherited darkness, set against Hammer Studios’ signature backdrop of richly atmospheric horror. Sadly, what it doesn’t have is much in the way of werewolf action and the final confrontation, in the bell tower of a church, seems abrupt and rather anti-climactic.

 

“Has anyone seen a hunchback?”

Stray Observations:

• Joe Dante named one of the characters in The Howling after director Terence Fisher, who helmed this werewolf outing.
• When the baby is taken to the church to be baptized, a storm rolls in and the baptismal font begins to boil. I started to wonder if the kid was supposed to be a werewolf or the anti-Christ.
• This may star Oliver Reed as the titular werewolf, but he doesn’t show up until the 47-minute mark of a film that only runs 93 minutes.
• That we don’t get to see Reed in full werewolf make-up until the film’s last ten minutes will most likely disappoint fans of werewolf movies.
• The interiors of the inn where Leon is staying is the same interior from Dracula’s castle in 1958’s Horror of Dracula. Sadly, we never got a sequel where Oliver Reed fought Dracula.

 

“I could totally take on Frankenstein’s Monster.”

This was Oliver Reed’s first credited screen role, and with his portrayal of Leon, we get a nice brooding intensity, giving a heart-wrenching depiction of a man tortured and now begging to be murdered for the things he’s done. He brings a mix of vulnerability and raw power that elevates the character beyond a typical monster archetype, and his transformation scenes—while not all that impressive — are emotionally charged and showcase his physicality, but it’s Reed’s intensity and charisma that elevates what might otherwise have been a clichéd role. Unfortunately, the rest of the cast is not so compelling, ranging from over-the-top performances to nothing more than walking stereotypes. Except for Catherine Feller as Christina, their romance is both poignant and romantic, adding nicely to the whole cursed aspect and is the last bit of glue that holds this film together.

 

The ultimate in complicated relationships.

As with most Hammer productions, the film excels in creating a rich, Gothic atmosphere, with sets that are drenched in shadows and candlelight, and the use of Spanish architecture and costumes adds an exotic layer to the usual Hammer aesthetic. As for the werewolf itself, the makeup, designed by Roy Ashton, is iconic in its simplicity, emphasizing Leon’s anguish as much as his monstrous nature. The transformation sequences are restrained but effective, relying on clever editing and Reed’s physicality rather than flashy effects. And the attacks themselves mostly happen in shadow, or we just see some furry hands. The gore is also limited; Hammer Films were not known for their restraint when it comes to blood, but this werewolf film has surprisingly little blood.

 

That’s pretty mild for a werewolf attack.

Thematically, The Curse of the Werewolf attempts to explore the tragic consequences of violence and cruelty, as Leon’s curse stems from the circumstances of his illegitimate birth, born of a mute servant raped by a deranged beggar. This origin story is unconventional and ambitious, aiming to weave social commentary into the fabric of the horror genre. However, the film falters under the weight of its own ambition. The opening act, which spends an inordinate amount of time detailing the grim backstory of Leon’s parents, feels overly long and disconnected from the central narrative. By the time the focus shifts to Leon as an adult, much of the film’s momentum has been lost, leaving the middle section to laboriously rebuild tension. Also, it’s not a good idea to have the viewer asking questions like “Am I watching a werewolf film?”

 

Werewolf or not, Oliver Reed was one handsome dude.

In conclusion, The Curse of the Werewolf is an uneven but intriguing entry in Hammer’s filmography. Its evocative atmosphere, Reed’s compelling performance, and the studio’s trademark gothic style make it worth a watch for fans of classic horror. Yet, its sluggish pacing, disjointed narrative, and occasionally problematic themes prevent it from achieving the same heights as Hammer’s best works. And while it may lack the relentless terror of other werewolf films like 1941’s The Wolf Man – lacking much in the of werewolf action – its unique blend of Gothic melodrama and psychological depth ensures it leaves a lasting impression. It’s a must-watch for fans of classic horror and those who appreciate the artistry of Hammer Films.