Werewolves (2024) – Review

Imagine The Purge but swap out the masked marauders for werewolves, and you’ll get the gist of Steven C. Miller’s Werewolves, a monster movie with many bites but with less of a point. Instead of delivering a tense and thrilling monster movie, it settled for cheap CGI, wooden dialogue, and a plot so predictable you could map it out before the opening credits finished rolling.

The premise is as simple as it is stupid. Off the top, we are told by Dr. Aranda (Lou Diamond Phillips) that a year ago a catastrophic supermoon event activated a latent gene in humans, causing those exposed to its light to transform into werewolves for one night, resulting in nearly a billion deaths, and now with another supermoon approaching, humanity must brace for a potential recurrence of the nightmare. Yeah, if this sounds like a sci-fi channel movie of the week, that’s because it basically is, except with a bigger budget and even less personality.

I find a Sharknado more convincing than this.

Our hero of this tale is Wesley Marshall (Frank Grillo) a scientist collaborating with Dr. Amy Chen (Katrina Law) and under the guidance of Dr. Aranda they are attempting to create a “Moonscreen” that will protect people from the transformative light of the supermoon – because I guess everyone simply staying inside isn’t an option – needless to say, things don’t go as planned and during a critical test, the moonscreen’s efficacy proves to be temporary, leading to a breach as subjects succumb to lycanthropy. Of course, safety precautions were set in place for this eventuality…right? Do you mean they didn’t plan for the possibility of failure? Well, shit. Before you can say Lon Chaney Jr., the werewolves are breaking out of their cages and eating the scientists. The facility quickly descends into chaos, forcing Wesley and Amy to flee through a city now teeming with werewolves.

“Should we call an Uber?”

If that wasn’t bad enough there’s the fact that Wesley was deeply affected by the loss of his brother, Sean, a first responder who perished during the initial outbreak, so he has to worry about keeping his brother’s widow, Lucy (Ilfenesh Hadera), and her daughter, Emma (Kamdynn Gary) safe from the fury of the furry horde at all costs. From here on out, the film cuts between Wes and Amy attempting to get across a city full of werewolves and Lucy trying to defend their home from the ravaging hordes. If only the movie was as exciting as that sounds. By the time the film stumbles into its underwhelming climax, you’ll be begging for the full moon to set. What should have been a fun, action-packed horror ride turns into a sluggish, poorly paced disaster, not to mention poorly lit.

If you can’t tell what they are, can they still kill you?’

Stray Observations:

• Wesley Marshall is a molecular biologist and former marine, you know, because those occupations are so similar, I’m surprised it’s not a Career Day staple.
• The movie opens with Wesley werewolf-proofing their house, which gave me strong Last Man on Earth vibes, but as much as I like Frank Grillo, he’s no Vincent Price.
• The formula failed in the lab, but Wes and Amy continue to rely on Moonscreen while traversing a werewolf-rich environment. Are we sure they’re actually scientists?
• On route to save his loved ones, Wes runs into a city bus, but why in the hell are buses running in the middle of the werewolf purge? Or buses won’t even run if the snow looks a little dicey.
• If you have a year to prepare your home for the werewolf purge, why not build a concealed panic room with a steel vault?
• These werewolves demonstrate more than simple animalistic intelligence; one even uses a corpse to test an electrified fence, yet Amy tries to be all “Alpha” on a werewolf by screaming at it.

And yes, it is as dumb as it looks.

The film’s special effects are a mixed bag, to say the least. Remember the terrifying, practical effects of An American Werewolf in London? Yeah, this movie remembers them too—but only enough to serve as a reminder of how badly Werewolves failed. The transformations are barely shown—probably because the budget was spent on cheap blue lighting to make everything look “moody” and the result were creatures that looked like someone downloaded a “Generic Furry Monster” asset from a 2002 video game and forgot to add the textures, and the result are werewolves who look like under lit extras in Halloween costumes they found at Party City. And when the action finally kicks in, it’s a shaky-cam mess of jump cuts and growling sound effects.

“Which way to Halloween Town?”

While the werewolves are lame, the human characters aren’t much better. Wesley is your typical grizzled hero with a tragic past, Katrina Law’s Dr. Chen is given almost nothing to do besides spout exposition and die stupidly, and Lou Diamond Phillips is criminally underused. And let’s not even get started on the cringe-inducing dialogue, a treasure trove of clichés, with lines so wooden you could stake a vampire with them and characters who make decisions that defy logic, often leaving you rooting for the werewolves just to thin the herd of stupidity. And let’s not forget the overuse of lens flares and strobe lighting, which might cause a seizure in people who don’t even suffer from epilepsy. Worst of all is that this could have been another Dog Soldiers with the military trying to take an endless amount of brutal monsters, but that was not to be. Instead, we get refugees from The Purge franchise either getting eaten or being turned into monsters themselves.

Were we the monsters all along?

In conclusion, Werewolves is a film that had potential, but it squandered every opportunity for genuine horror or creative storytelling. It’s not fun enough to be campy, not smart enough to be engaging, and not scary enough to be memorable. If you’re looking for a great werewolf movie, just watch The Howling or Dog Soldiers instead. This one is best left buried—preferably under a mound of silver bullets.

Lone Wolf and Cub (1972–1974) – Review

If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if a stoic, sword-slinging samurai hit the road with a baby who’s as tough as his dad, look no further than the Lone Wolf and Cub movies. These legendary Japanese films from the 1970s are a blood-soaked, tear-jerking, adrenaline-pumping ride through feudal Japan.

The Lone Wolf and Cub movie series, based on the manga of the same name by Kazuo Koike and Goseki Kojima, is a landmark in Japanese cinema, merging the austere beauty of samurai traditions with a visceral, action-packed storytelling style. Released in the early 1970s, the series of six films directed primarily by Kenji Misumi explores themes of honour, vengeance, and the bond between parent and child, all set against the violent backdrop of feudal Japan.

A backdrop as beautiful as it is violent.

The franchise kicks off with Lone Wolf and Cub: Sword of Vengeance, the first in a six-part series that weaves blood-soaked poetry with existential philosophy. It introduces us to Ogami Ittō (Tomisaburo Wakayama), the former executioner for the shogunate who is framed by the Yagyū clan, leading to the slaughter of his wife and the dismantling of his honourable position. Left with nothing but his infant son, Daigorō (Akihiro Tomikawa), Ittō embarks on the “Demon Way in Hell”, offering his services as an assassin while plotting vengeance against those who wronged him.  The key villain of the series is the leader of the “Shadow” of the Yagyū clan, Retsudo (Yūnosuke Itō), who brings villainy to a whole new level.

“Be honest, is the eye-patch a bit much?”

The father-son relationship at the heart of the series is as tender as it is unconventional. Ogami’s stoic demeanour contrasts sharply with Daigoro’s innocence, yet their bond remains unshakable. The sight of the toddler travelling in a booby-trapped baby cart, armed with hidden weapons, encapsulates the series’ unique blend of pathos and brutality. Tomisaburo Wakayama delivers an iconic performance as Ogami Ittō. He captures both the stoic resolve of a seasoned killer and the underlying humanity of a father burdened by tragedy. Wakayama’s physicality, combined with his intense yet subtle expressions, makes Ittō an unforgettable character.

“I’m up for Dad of the Year six years running.”

Meanwhile, little Akihiro Tomikawa as Daigoro. steals the show with his unflappable demeanour. This kid doesn’t cry when surrounded by assassins or splattered in arterial spray—he just sits there, stoic and judgmental, like he knows you’d lose in a sword fight. His quiet presence is both endearing and unsettling as if he’s fully aware he’s living in a nonstop grindhouse flick adds a surprising depth, embodying innocence amidst chaos with remarkable poise.

He’s also handy in a tight spot.

Stray Observations:

• This is the kind of world where we must assume the human body is highly pressurized due to the force of spurting blood we see in this movie.
• To test if Ogami is a great swordsman, they send their own men to attack him; of course, this results in their death. Being a vassal in feudal Japan must have sucked.
• Ogami is the ultimate anti-hero; murder and rape abound around him, but whether he gets involved is anyone’s guess.
• The world of Lone Wolf and Cub is fairly heightened, but in the last entry, we get “undead” warriors coming after Ogami.
• This is a series that dares to ask, “Why shouldn’t a baby cart double as a weapon of mass destruction?”

James Bond dreams of having a ride this badass.

The fight choreography is a standout element. Ittō’s use of the dotanuki sword and the ingenious weaponized baby cart turns every battle into a spectacle of creativity and carnage. The film doesn’t shy away from violence—limbs are severed, blood spurts like fountains, and death is swift. Yet the violence feels poetic, a grim dance that serves the narrative rather than existing for shock value. The films are renowned for their visual storytelling, which blends traditional Japanese aesthetics with modern cinematic techniques. Director Kenji Misumi, who helmed four of the six films, brought an operatic sensibility to the series, using long takes, sweeping landscapes, and meticulous choreography to create a visually arresting experience. The films’ use of bloodshed as a visual motif—exaggerated sprays of crimson against serene backdrops—became iconic, influencing everything from Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill to modern action films.

“Anyone have a mop handy?”

This franchise is most known for its groundbreaking action and choreography, as the action sequences in Lone Wolf and Cub set a new standard for samurai films. Choreographed with precision and filmed with an unflinching lens, the battles showcase Ogami’s mastery of the sword, often pitting him against dozens of adversaries. The innovative use of the baby cart, which doubles as a weapon-laden fortress, adds a layer of ingenuity to the fight scenes, blending strategy with raw power. But beneath the action, the series explores profound themes. At its core, Lone Wolf and Cub is a meditation on loyalty, revenge, and the moral complexities of the samurai code. Ogami’s journey raises questions about the price of vengeance and the ways in which personal honour can clash with societal expectations. These themes resonate universally, giving the series a timeless appeal.

These sequences are not mere displays of violence but are imbued with dramatic weight. Each fight is a test of Ogami’s resolve and a step closer to his ultimate goal. The choreography, combined with Tomisaburo Wakayama’s commanding performance as Ogami, creates a visceral sense of tension and release that keeps audiences riveted. The influence of Lone Wolf and Cub can be seen in countless works, from graphic novels like Frank Miller’s Ronin to films like The Mandalorian, which borrows heavily from the series’ lone warrior and child dynamic.

In conclusion, the Lone Wolf and Cub movie series stands as a towering achievement in the world of samurai cinema. Its combination of stunning visuals, compelling characters, and philosophical depth has secured its place as a classic of the genre. More than just action-packed spectacles, these films are profound explorations of human resilience, the cost of vengeance, and the unbreakable bond between parent and child. Decades after their release, they remain a testament to the enduring power of great storytelling and their ability to transcend cultural boundaries, captivating audiences around the world.

Werewolves Within (2021) – Review

Horror-comedies are a tricky beast to tame. Go too far in one direction, and you risk losing the scares; lean too much into the other, and the humour falls flat. Werewolves Within, directed by Josh Ruben, finds that sweet spot—delivering a blend of small-town paranoia, quirky comedy, and just enough bite to keep things interesting.

Based on Ubisoft’s video game of the same name (which, let’s be honest, almost no one played), Werewolves Within follows Finn Wheeler (Sam Richardson), a good-natured forest ranger, as he arrives in the snowy town of Beaverfield, where he hopes for a peaceful new assignment. Instead, he finds himself in the middle of a brewing storm—both literally and figuratively. A contentious gas pipeline proposal has divided the eccentric townsfolk, but before the town can tear itself apart over environmental ethics, something else starts doing the tearing—literally. And as tensions rise, a vicious blizzard traps them all inside the local inn, and with the town’s generators also destroyed, everyone is left in the dark.

 

“This was no weather accident.”

Suspect List: Who’s Howling in Beaverfield?

• Jeanine Sherman (Catherine Curtin) – Owns the town’s inn and is dealing with a very recent loss (or so she says). Grief can make people act strange… or maybe her late husband isn’t so “late” after all.
• Dr. Ellis (Rebecca Henderson) – The intense, no-nonsense scientist researching the local wildlife. But what if she’s studying something more… personal?
• Trisha Anderton (Michaela Watkins) – The over-the-top yoga-loving conservative who really wants her dog back. But if she’s so heartbroken over her pet, why does she seem so… bitey?
• Pete Anderton (Michael Chernus) – Trisha’s passive husband who doesn’t seem thrilled to be married to her. Maybe he’s bottling up his rage… or his inner werewolf.
• Devon and Joaquin Wolfson (Harvey Guillén and Cheyenne Jackson) – A snobby gay couple who despises the townies.
• Marcus and Gwen (George Basil and Sarah Burns) – An aggressively dysfunctional, gun-loving couple.
• Sam Parker (Wayne Duvall) – The corporate pipeline guy who wants to build through the town. Greedy and shady… but is he hairy and shady?
• Emerson Flint (Glenn Fleshler) – The town’s mysterious loner who looks like he could be a werewolf. Which means he probably isn’t… right?
• Cecily Moore (Milana Vayntrub) – The town’s super-friendly mail carrier. Too charming? Too helpful? Could she be hiding a beastly side behind that quirky personality?

 

“I’m too adorable to be a vicious killer, right?”

Things really get cooking when the hair samples Dr. Ellis took from the “crime scenes” turn out to be not in any animal database, and she violently suggests to the group that the culprit may be a lycanthrope who blends in with the rest of them – that she then “commits suicide” doesn’t help. Cue absolute mayhem. Paranoia runs wild as Beaverfield’s residents turn on each other, alliances shift, and accusations fly faster than snowflakes in a blizzard. Guns are drawn. Secrets are spilled. People get hilariously unhinged. And Finn, bless his overly polite heart, just wants everyone to get along. Moral of the story?

 

Werewolves, small-town politics, and snowstorms do NOT mix.

Stray Observations:

• This is not the first werewolf film to have a “whodunit” aspect, as the 1974 film The Beast Must Die had a definite Agatha Christie vibe, just not done as well as it is here.
• I have to give the screenwriters props for being the first horror film to open with a dramatic quote from Mr. Rogers.
• The first victim is attacked and dragged around by an unseen creature, very reminiscent of the death of Chrissie in Jaws.
• Emerson Flint has a stuffed grizzly bear in his house, but grizzlies are not native to Vermont. Did he import this trophy to impress his friends? Even though he has none.
• Locking away all of the guns for supposed safety, when a werewolf doesn’t need a gun to kill, is possibly the dumbest thing ever done in a werewolf movie.
• Parker uses a hidden blade, mounted on his wrist, a weapon featured in the Ubisoft Assassin’s Creed franchise.
• This film’s werewolf has plot-specific senses, as it should have easily been able to smell Finn while he was bleeding heavily.

 

“Can I axe you a question?”

The film thrives on its mix of horror and comedy, with its tone feeling like Clue meets The Thing. The humour is sharp, often character-driven, and delivered with excellent timing, thanks to a cast of actors who understand the assignment. What makes it all work so well is that everyone in town is weird in their own way, which makes the whodunit aspect of the film all the more fun. With every new twist, you’re left second-guessing who’s trustworthy and who’s hiding something furry under the surface.

Note: This film is heavy on comedy but light on actual werewolf action.

From gun-toting right-wingers to yoga-loving environmentalists, the ensemble is packed with colourful oddballs. Every character feels distinct, which makes the mystery more engaging. Leading the pack is Sam Richardson, who is the heart of the film, playing Finn as the ultimate “nice guy” stuck in the worst possible scenario. His charm makes him easy to root for, even as the insanity around him escalates. Milana Vayntrub shines as Cecily, bringing wit, warmth, and a sense of unpredictability to her role. The supporting cast is stacked with comedic talent, from Michaela Watkins as a delightfully aggressive craft lover to Glenn Fleshler as a gruff, gun-toting hermit.

 

“Do I look like a furry to you?”

Unlike some horror-comedies that rely on slapstick or camp, Werewolves Within builds tension while keeping the laughs coming. It plays with classic horror tropes—creepy isolation, paranoia, the fear of the unknown—but doesn’t take itself too seriously. The script, written by Mishna Wolff (yes, that’s really her name), is filled with witty dialogue and subtle satire, poking fun at everything from small-town politics to corporate greed. That the werewolf turns out to be the least volatile “person” in this town just adds to the comedic brilliance of the script.

 

The amount of crazy in this town is astounding.

In conclusion, Werewolves Within was a delightful surprise—an indie horror-comedy that didn’t overstay its welcome, packed with plenty of laughs, and offered just the right amount of horror. The cast was fantastic, the script was sharp, and the mystery was engaging enough to keep you invested. If you’re looking for something spooky but not too scary, funny but not dumb, and packed with quirky characters, Werewolves Within is a fantastic choice.

Treasure of the Four Crowns (1983) – Review

If one element that stands out among films of the 1980s, well, other than the slasher craze, was the revival of the 3D movie – any third instalment in a franchise was pretty much required to be in 3D and thus we got Friday the 13th 3D and Amityville 3D during this era – but following the popularity of Steven Spielberg’s Raiders of the Lost Ark we were also treated to a lot of Indiana Jones knock-offs, yet how many of those had the balls to be released in 3D! And the fact that this is a Cannon film, you know it’s going to be great.

You know you are in for a “Bad Movie” treat when a film opens with a long opening crawl that tries to explain its entire premise, and for this entry, we get a doozy. ”In the universe, there are things man cannot hope to understand. Powers he cannot hope to possess. Forces he cannot hope to control. The Four Crowns are such things. Yet the search has begun. A soldier of fortune takes the first step. He seeks a key that will unlock the power of the Four Crowns and unleash a world where good and evil collide.” With that kind of build-up, what could go wrong? A lot actually, and while the opening sequence with Soldier of Fortune J.T. Striker (Tony Anthony) retrieving this “key of power” from a fortress, that is guarded by not only elaborate booby traps but a variety of viscous animals and supernatural forces, is a lot of fun to watch, sadly, the fact that the film’s primary hero has the charisma level of damp sponge makes everything that follows harder to get behind.

 

He doesn’t so much as ooze charisma as he does Bourbon and Scotch.

The plot, if you can call it that, is more like a series of loosely connected escapades and misadventures. It’s almost as if the filmmakers got lost themselves and decided to throw in some random obstacles to keep things interesting. We have the aforementioned J.T. Striker being hired to retrieve a magical key that will unlock four legendary crowns that supposedly contain unmentionable powers, and by unmentionable, I mean silly and ludicrous, and this leads to Striker being tasked with retrieving those crowns, unfortunately, they are in the possession of an evil cult leader named Brother Jonas (Emiliano Redondo) who will most likely use the supernatural power of crowns for world domination, that or open up a chain of Subway sandwich shops.

 

Still, he’s less despicable than Jared Fogel.

Of course, such a dangerous mission is not something one can achieve on their own, so Striker must assemble a crack team of adventurers. First, we have Rick (Jerry Lazarus) an expert mountain climber who would rather climb into a bottle than up a mountain – for some reason the magical key going nuts and ruining his cabin is enough to get him to agree to come on this insane mission – next is aging circus strongman Socrates (Francisco Rabal) who has a heart condition but is hiding this from his daughter Liz (Ana Obregón), an accomplished trapeze artist and final member of our team. Needless to say, this is not exactly A-Team material, and I wouldn’t trust these guys to break into a summer camp, let alone a mountain fortress guarded by machine gun-toting cultists. Basically, Ferdinando Baldi’s Treasure of the Four Crowns is the kind of movie that makes you wonder if the treasure they were searching for was actually a good script. This cheesy adventure flick may not have won any Oscars, but it sure wins the prize for unintentional hilarity.

Note: The sequence of our heroes breaking into the “Vault of the Crowns” is so long and tedious that I started to wonder if I was watching an experiment on coma-inducing boredom.

The treasure hunt itself is a rollercoaster ride of head-scratching moments, with our intrepid heroes seeming to have a perfect knack for stumbling into one absurd situation after another. From dodging overly dramatic traps to deciphering cryptic clues that even a parrot with a PhD. would struggle with, the “comedy” never stops. our villain. As for the villain, Brother Jonas has more moustache twirls than a silent movie villain and a lair that looks like it was designed by a Bond villain on a shoestring budget. His grand plans for world domination are as over-the-top as his wardrobe, and it’s impossible not to chuckle at his diabolical speeches. The dialogue, bless its heart, is a treasure trove of unintentional comedy gold. Lines delivered with such gravity and earnestness that you can’t help but wonder if the actors knew they were in on the joke. “We must find the crowns, or the world will fall into darkness!” Cue dramatic music and a collective eyebrow raise from the audience.

 

Put on your 3D glasses and set a course for adventure!

Stray Observations:

• Posters credited the 3D process used in the film as “Supervision” and “Wondervision” but both of these processes are fictitious, and the film actually used the Marks 3-Depix Stereospace Converter.
• If you were to remove all the shots of things being slowly thrust at the camera, this movie would be thirty minutes shorter.
• In the opening, Striker is attacked by various winged creatures, which consist mostly of birds, but one of these looks to be a baby Pteranodon, yet no explanation is given as to why a prehistoric creature is inhabiting an old fortress.
• In the classic opening of Raiders of the Lost Ark, Indiana Jones was chased out of the tomb by a giant rolling stone. In this movie, our hero is chased by two FLAMING rolling stones. How is that for one-upmanship?

 

Eat your heart out, Indiana Jones.

The film’s production values are another significant drawback, with special effects and set designs that are outdated and unconvincing even for something made in the mid-80s. The action sequences, which should have been the film’s highlight, are poorly choreographed and lack the excitement and tension needed to hold the audience’s attention. The use of 3D technology, a novelty at the time, is more distracting than immersive, with numerous scenes that seem forced and gimmicky, and by that, I mean 90% of the 3D is random stuff simply being thrust at the viewer in that subtle “It’s coming right at you!” style of this era of cheap 3D. Treasure of the Four Crowns tries its hardest to dazzle you with flying arrows and cheesy projectiles. If you’ve ever wanted to see a sword thrust directly at your face in glorious ’80s 3D, this movie delivers. However, by today’s standards, it’s more likely to make you chuckle than duck for cover.

 

Some tombs should remain unraided.

One might argue that Treasure of the Four Crowns could be appreciated as a nostalgic relic from the early 1980s, but even through that lens, it struggles to stand the test of time. The cast, unfortunately, is unable to salvage the film as even seasoned actors like Tony Anthony and Ana Obregón struggle with the thinly sketched characters they’re given. The lack of compelling dialogue and character development leaves the audience disconnected from the protagonists, making it difficult to root for their success or empathize with their challenges. Add to this the film’s shortcomings in storytelling and production, and it makes the film a difficult one to recommend to modern audiences seeking a compelling adventure movie, well, unless you are a lover of cheesy bad movies and if that’s the case, some fun can be had spending time riffing with like-minded friends.

Note: When Striker opens the crowns and holds the two “gems of power,” we get an “Ark of the Covenant” moment that is so balls-to-the-wall crazy that it almost redeems the long passages of tedium that preceded this scene. It doesn’t get much better than this, seriously, it doesn’t.

In summary, Treasure of the Four Crowns is a true ’80s time capsule, filled with dated fashion, cringe-worthy dialogue, and 3D effects that might leave you wondering if you’ve accidentally stumbled into a theme park ride. But if you’re in the mood for a good laugh and some nostalgic fun, this treasure hunt gone wrong might just be the comedic gem you’re looking for. So, grab your popcorn, put on your 3D glasses (if you dare), and embark on this wild, unintentionally hilarious adventure.

The Wolf of Snow Hollow (2020) – Review

If Fargo and The Howling ever shared DNA, the result might look a lot like The Wolf of Snow Hollow. Written, directed by, and starring Jim Cummings, the film is a genre-bending hybrid—equal parts murder mystery, werewolf thriller, and midlife crisis drama. Remarkably, this unlikely combination holds together with surprising cohesion.

The film follows Officer John Marshall (Jim Cummings), a tightly wound small-town cop dealing with a failing sobriety streak, anger management issues, and a father (Robert Forster) whose declining declining health has him reluctantly stepping down as Sheriff. Oh, and did I mention there’s a possible werewolf ripping through their quiet mountain town? Yeah, rough week. Despite his personal struggles—including his recent sobriety, anger management issues, and the stress of raising his teenage daughter, Jenna (Chloe East)—John is determined to prove that this is a case of human violence, not something supernatural. However, as more victims turn up, each slaughtered with an almost inhuman level of brutality, panic spreads through the town, and rumours begin circulating that the murders are the work of a werewolf.

 

This certainly looks like a werewolf.

And from that premise, The Wolf of Snow Hollow appears to be a conventional werewolf horror film – a small, snowy mountain town is terrorized by a series of brutal murders, with the victims appearing to be savaged by an animal. As John’s frustration grows as he battles not only the town’s fear but also his own self-destructive tendencies. His fellow officers, including Officer Julia Robson (Riki Lindhome), try to keep the case grounded in reality, but the bizarre nature of the evidence—massive paw prints at the crime scenes, victims killed on full moon nights, and a lack of solid human suspects—only fuels the legend of the “Snow Hollow Horror.” However, unlike traditional werewolf films that lean heavily into supernatural horror elements, The Wolf of Snow Hollow plays with the audience’s expectations, keeping them guessing whether the monstrous attacks are the work of a real werewolf or something far more human.

 

Could it be this creepy guy burning a corpse?

Stray Observations:

• John Marshall is an alcoholic police officer in a small town, as was the main character in WolfCop, is this a trope now?
• The small town’s police officers debate whether to allow the FBI to investigate the murder. It would not be their decision. Mulder and Sculley would have shown up on their own.
• A mother leaves her restaurant table to escape a creepy stranger, it seems unfathomable she would leave her three-year-old daughter alone in his presence. Mother of the year she is not.
• Later, that same mother exits her car to investigate the deer carcass, she leaves her daughter unattended with a window rolled down in a snowstorm. Please, somebody, call Child Services.

 

Oh well, never mind.

The film presents itself as a werewolf mystery but ultimately functions as a character study wrapped in the guise of a horror film. With Cummings serving as writer, director, and lead actor, the film carries his signature blend of emotional intensity and dry humour, making for a viewing experience that is as entertaining as it is unsettling. And most intriguing, is the way it plays with the whole “Is it supernatural or just terrifyingly human?” It keeps you guessing, which is rare in the creature feature genre. Rather than fully committing to creature-feature horror, the film instead emphasizes the psychological unravelling of its protagonist. He’s the definition of a flawed protagonist.

 

“Yes, I’m an asshole. I thought everyone knew that.”

The werewolf myth clearly serves as a metaphor for John’s inner turmoil, as he grapples with his own violent tendencies, familial pressures, and personal failures. This approach keeps the film fresh and unpredictable, avoiding well-worn genre tropes in favour of something more introspective and character-driven. Think Jaws, if Chief Brody was even more neurotic and had a failing relationship with literally everyone. John’s emotional instability is often played for both humour and drama. His frequent outbursts and erratic behaviour make him an unreliable leader, yet they also highlight his deep-seated insecurities and desperation, which his failure as a father and the death of his own only exacerbates.

 

R.I.P. Robert Forster – In one of his last roles, Forster brings a quiet, no-nonsense gravitas to the part of John’s father that reminds you why he was one of the best character actors in the business.

Beneath its horror trappings, The Wolf of Snow Hollow is a film about masculinity and the struggles that come with it. John is a man burdened by expectations—those of his father, his community, and himself. He refuses to show vulnerability, suppresses his emotions through aggression, and struggles to maintain control over his life. The werewolf, in many ways, is a representation of his worst fears: losing control, succumbing to rage, and becoming the very monster he is hunting.

Note: Don’t expect An American Werewolf in London level transformation scene as this film leans into the less-is-more approach, which works… but some horror fans might feel cheated.

In conclusion, The Wolf of Snow Hollow is an offbeat, stress-inducing, yet strangely hilarious horror mystery with a werewolf problem… or maybe just a really angry man in a fur suit. Either way, it’s a howling good time (pun 100% intended). If you like your horror with a side of existential dread and awkward small-town cop drama, this is absolutely for you. Just don’t expect John Marshall to keep his cool—because he absolutely won’t.

Valley of the Dinosaurs (1974 – 1976) Review

If you ever wondered what Land of the Lost would be like with fewer Sleestaks and more heartfelt family bonding, Valley of the Dinosaurs is your answer. Produced by Hanna-Barbera, this animated adventure series took kids on a prehistoric journey filled with dinosaurs, cavemen, and survival lessons that somehow always seemed to be resolved in exactly 22 minutes.

The premise is classic Saturday morning fare: a modern family—the Butlers—gets sucked into a whirlpool while rafting in the Amazon and ends up in a mysterious land where dinosaurs roam and primitive humans thrive. But instead of searching frantically for a way home, they quickly befriend a cave-dwelling family and begin their new life of fish-catching, fire-making, and occasional T. Rex dodging. It’s a survivalist’s dream—if the survivalist were drawn in simple Hanna-Barbera style and narrated with a comforting lack of real danger.

 

Morality lessons, yes, actual danger…no.

The head of the show is patriarch John Butler (Mike Road), who is a science teacher and the one who takes on the leadership role in the group – as expected he will give life lessons to all concerned – next is his wife Kim (Shannon Farnon) who is both dutiful and resourceful and a wannabee June Cleaver but with PhD, then there are their two children, the adventurous and quick-witted Greg (Jackie Earle Haley) and his older sister Katie (Kathy Gori). As expected for this kind of show, Greg’s main job was to get into trouble and then be lectured by his dad. Then we have our group of friendly cave dwellers, Gorok (Alan Oppenheimer) the strong and wise leader of his family, his wife Gara (Joan Gardner) whose job is mainly to help Kim Butler adapt to this new primitive world, and finally, we have their two children Lok (Frank Welker) and Tana (Melanie Baker), who pal around with the Butler children for various misadventures.

 

“As primitive as can be.”

Needless to say, this prehistoric valley is filled with dangers, the biggest of which are dinosaurs, ranging from large carnivorous predators like Tyrannosaurus rex to massive herbivores such as brontosauruses. The characters also face other creatures, including giant insects, pterosaurs, and sabre-toothed cats. Aside from dinosaurs, the valley presents challenges such as earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, treacherous rivers, and environmental dangers. Each episode typically involves the characters encountering a new survival dilemma—whether it’s a food shortage, an attack from a dinosaur, or a natural disaster—and working together to find a solution.

 

Running away is a very common solution to stuff like this.

The episodes followed a fairly set formula:
• The Butlers encounter a new danger or challenge in the valley.
• Gorak’s family either assist or requires help from the Butlers.
• The two families work together to find a solution, often blending science with primitive survival tactics.
• The crisis is resolved, and though the Butlers remain stranded, the episode will end with hope or a lesson learned.

  

Stranded despite their ability to construct an airplane.

Throughout the series, the Butlers occasionally attempt to find a way back home, as that is the basic premise of the show, and while they explore the valley in hopes of discovering an exit, each attempt is thwarted by obstacles such as rock slides, dinosaur attacks, or impassable terrain. Despite these setbacks, John and his family remain determined, continuing their search while making the best of their new reality.

 

“Can you see a second season from here? Because I can’t.”

Stray Observations:

• The opening narration describes the valley as a “world that time forgot” which could be a nod to the Edgar Rice Burroughs book “The Land That Time Forgot.”
• Classic cartoon fans will most likely recognize Mike Road, who voices John Butler in this series, as the same man who voiced Race Bannon on Jonny Quest.
• As was the case with The Professor on Gilligan’s Island, John Butler is versed in practically every field of science.
• This show has an erupting volcano because no Lost World story would be complete without one. Luckily, this eruption doesn’t destroy the valley ,or this show wouldn’t have lasted even one season.

 

Mother Nature is a very cruel editor.

While Valley of the Dinosaurs was clearly meant for young audiences, it had its strengths with the series emphasizing cooperation, family values, and problem-solving, often showcasing how the Butlers’ modern knowledge could be combined with the primitive skills they learn from their cave neighbours. Without fail, every episode would feature an educational moment—like how to build a raft or escape quicksand—though one has to wonder how accurate these prehistoric life hacks really were. The biggest challenge is in dino-proofing whatever scientific wonder the Butlers come up with.

 

Is there such a thing as a scarecrow for Pteranodons?

Unfortunately, Valley of the Dinosaurs debuted the same year as the live-action Sid and Marty Kroft’s Land of the Lost, which had better world-building, more intriguing mysteries, and, let’s be honest, much cooler dinosaurs (nicely executed stop-motion puppets). This series had no truly sinister villains, and no deep lore to explore—just a steady, episodic structure where problems arise, teamwork prevails, and dinosaurs act more like oversized pets than actual threats. The animation, while serviceable for 1970s television, was fairly stiff, and character designs were about as generic as they come. If you’ve seen one Hanna-Barbera character, you’ve seen them all.

 

Cool dino-action makes up for a lot.

Another key problem would be the fact that almost every episode followed that same aforementioned formula: the Butlers try to adapt to prehistoric life, some disaster occurs (usually involving dinosaurs or natural dangers), and Gorak and his family help them solve the problem. It gets repetitive fast. And as typical of Hanna-Barbera productions of the time, not a lot of time was spent on character development; most characters were serviceable but one-dimensional at best. John Butler, the father, is the typical strong and knowledgeable patriarch, and Kate is your standard supportive wife. While their kids get the occasional spotlight, they don’t develop much, and even their pet dog, Digger, seems stuck in the same routine.

Note: The Gorok family have a pet of their own in the form of a baby Stegosaurus named Glump because of course, they do.

Sadly, because the show only lasted one season, it never received a proper conclusion, and so the Butlers remain stranded in the valley, continuing their daily struggles and hoping to one day find a way back home. In fact, the series never explored whether the valley was truly inescapable or if an exit existed at all. Who knows, maybe someday a television or movie producer will revisit this piece of nostalgic property, and we could end up with a live-action remake. I only hope that if this does happen, it turns out better than the 2009 Land of the Lost remake starring Will Ferrell and Danny McBride. Some things are just too painful to contemplate.

 

I vote for Ron Perlman to play Gorak.

In conclusion, Valley of the Dinosaurs is a charming but forgettable relic of its time. It’s an enjoyable watch for those nostalgic for simple Saturday morning escapism, but it doesn’t hold up against other prehistoric-themed adventures. If you’re looking for caveman camaraderie with a side of educational tidbits, it’s worth a look. If you want something with more bite (literally and figuratively), you might be better off elsewhere.