Werecuke
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Of
Werewolves and Were-Euros.
by
Jon Dunmore © 22 Aug 2005.
Not
five minutes into WEREWOLF, we realize we've been duped
into watching an interminable Mentos commercial Euros
playing Americans playing archaeologists.
We
meet these brawling "scientists" (of course!
don't all scientists brawl at their excavation sites?)
somewhere in Arizona, Europe, as they unearth a human skeleton
with a wolf's skull. Joe Estevez, in a role you will not
soon forget waitaminute, who was I talking about?...
oh right, Martin Sheen's brother wide-eyed in terror
(or attempting to perform the facsimile thereof), pules
"yana-glanchi" at the skeleton, which means, loosely
translated, "buried studio prop."
Apparently,
the studio prop was a dead werewolf - Waitaminute! - when
a werewolf dies, doesn't it transform fully back
to human shape? How did its head remain lupine?
Specious
examination follows, with Noel (lead scientist, bearing
an unfortunate resemblance to literary gadfly - and one
of my heroes - Harlan Ellison) asserting that the creature
ran on all fours but with all four skeletal limbs
so patently human in form and function, were it to run on
all fours, the creature's butt would be so high in the air,
it might as well have stood up and gone bipedal.
Noel
and musclebound "scientist," Yuri (who assimilated
his English locution from Antonio Banderas movies), apply
their stringent Scientific Method to the mystery of dem
bones, which involves contemplating every unintelligible legend - nothing scientific - surrounding this mythic creature, arriving at the
baseless conclusion that the skeleton is, in fact, a "wahr-wilf,"
without raising one finger to physically examine it. Don't
give up your day jobs, fellas.
Blond-and-breasted
Natalie, who we presume has some kind of higher education
(other than carnal) to be one of the lead scientists on
this dig, tries ever so hard to add convincing dialog to
her scenes, but in trying to get her Euro tongue around
English as her Second Language, she sounds like she's gargling
marbles. Don't give up your boob job, honey.
Considering
werewolf legends originated in Europe, one would imagine
that Euros would be the best purveyors of these tales. But
somehow, when these Euros made this American-market film,
all quality and integrity went "ciao baby," which
might say something about the sub-standard perception Europeans
have of the American Film Industry's boilerplate low-budget
horror movie market, thereby creating inferior product because
they don't have to strive too high - or it might just mean
that these Euro film-makers stink
or maybe
a little of both...
The
main character, Paul (pronounced "Pahlle" in Euro),
is beaten by Yuri with the sharp end of the yana-glanchi
skull; consequently, he turns into a were-creature and minces
about the countryside hither and thither, crawling, jogging,
ululating, pretending to bite people, shape-shifting into
at least five discernible stages of wolf-hood, one of which
looks like a guy in a bear suit. We gather that there is
something terribly wrong about this, not least because the
moon has been full for about two straight weeks indicating
that its orbit has suddenly destabilized, but also because
Natalie seems concerned (or attempting to perform the facsimile
thereof).
And
then, thankfully, the movie ends, leaving about five characters
unaccounted for, two or three who just never appeared again
after the second act. The final scene sees Natalie finding
Paul as a slavering werewolf and being unafraid of him.
The big reveal is that Natalie herself is a wahr-wilf!
How
this came to pass is pointless to contemplate. Why this
seems to be meaningful as the punchline of the film is even
more of a mystery. Just back away slowly and hope the movie
leaves you unscathed.
END
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