Howl of the Devil (1987)

Dir: Paul Naschy

Paul Naschy (who also writes, produces and directs this) plays a pair of brothers, Alex and Hector Doriani. Alex is a B-Movie horror actor. Hector is a serious thespian. They hate each other but when Alex dies, his son Adrian (played by Naschy's own son) is placed into Hector's care. Hector beats the boy, abuses the servants and has a habit of abducting and drugging prostitutes for his weird sex games, so Adrian (understandably) retreats into a world of fantasy based on the characters played by his late father. This turbo-paced movie plays a little like an overheated, X-rated Spanish soap opera on fast-forward but with the mind-boggling bonus of Paul Naschy playing no fewer than 12 roles. Besides Alex and Hector, he is also Rasputin, Quasimodo, Bluebeard, Frankenstein's Monster, Fu Manchu, The Phantom of the Opera, Mr Hyde, his own wolfman creation Waldermar Daninsky (in one of the film's rare moments of poignancy), a mummy/zombie and, ultimately, Satan. On one hand "Howl of the Devil" is a glorious mess; a feverish kaleidoscope of misogynistic shouting, gratuitous nudity and ever-increasing absurdity. On the other, taken as part of Naschy's oeuvre, it's a heartfelt love letter to the artform he mastered and a furious lashing-out at the audience who rejected his genius. There's even political allegory in there; a disparaging of both tyrannical government (bear in mind Naschy's career began under General Franco's regime) and the Catholic church. What's weirdest is that, if you take out the fact that no one would/could ever behave like any of these characters do, the story - within its own universe - actually makes sense and has a really good twist. This kind of intensely personal cinema is rarely so entertaining as it is here and "Howl of the Devil" has the added bonus of watching Naschy - for perhaps the only time - completely off leash and wildly indulging every B-Movie fantasy he's ever had. For those who appreciate his genius, this is stuff that will really raise the goosebumps. Why this has never had a proper DVD release is beyond me. ***1/2

Wild Country (2005)

Dir: Craig Strachan

Micro-budget Scottish film in which a bunch of teenagers orienteering in the Highlands fall prey to a pissed off werewolf. There's nothing too new here, beyond the setting, but it works small wonders with its minimal raw materials and shows promise as a first feature from writer/director Strachan. He casts real teenagers instead of grizzled 30-somethings which helps add plausibility (also - crucially - these kids can act!), the colloquial dialogue is sharp and realistic, the humour works and even the baggy, oversized wolf suit looks pretty cool if you let yourself get into it. There's a neat twist to the tale as well that I won't spoil, but it shows that some thought went into the screenplay and that's both nice and rare these days. At 75 minutes, Wild Country never outstays its welcome and is a cute little creature feature with bite. You might not want to go hiking for a little while afterwards though. ***

Big Bad Wolf (2006)

Dir: Lance W. Dreesen

A wisecracking werewolf rapist wreaks havoc on California in this tasteless, crude and seriously cheap DTV horror outing. There's a nice surprise opening scene in which the obligatory group of teens who go to the spooky cabin in the woods get dispatched gorily within minutes before the credits have even rolled. After this, it heads in more of a "Fright Night" style direction plot with cherubic Trevor Duke playing 'Derek', a functionless teen bozo who believes his stepfather to be the werewolf that killed all his friends. Tick yer boxes for copious (but dubious) nudity, spurting red food dye by the bucketload and creepy dwarf Richard Tyson in a gorilla suit, and you know you're up for some sleazy crud of the lowest order. That said, turn your brain off and "Big Bad Wolf" is, I'm ashamed to admit, something of a guilty pleasure. It does what it says on the tin and if you're after some gory, exploitative trash, you could do way worse than killing 90 minutes with this sick little puppy. Every bit as bad as it looks and all the better for it, in other words. **1/2

Blood and Chocolate (2007)

Dir: Katja von Garnier

A clutter of cliches mars this soppy teen take on the werewolf myth. Somewhere in Bucharest, a highly organised 'pack' of wolf royalty known as the Loup-Garous hunts their human prey. When one of them (Agnes Bruckner) falls in love with a snotty whining comic book artist (Hugh Dancy), she must fight for her freedom against pathological pack leader Gabriel (Oliver Martinez on hammy autopilot). Oooh, who will win? Will love conquer all? Bah, who cares? I certainly didn't by the time I'd realised that all the stupid, misplaced CGI-enhanced "Underworld"-esque leaping in the world isn't going to enliven this illogical and utterly unengaging bore. Perhaps with some charismatic actors, a tighter script and less of the laughable 'action', this could've worked (there is actually a marginally interesting story underneath all the dross) but as it stands, no. Sorry. That said, I am praying they make a sequel, just so as they can call it "Blood and Chocolate 2 : Electric Loup-garou". *

Sexbomb (1988)

Dir: Jeff Broadstreet

Inane spoof from the ever-schlocky production house of Fred Olen Ray. This one is an elaborate cause-and-effect farce about "I Rip Your Flesh With Pliers", a fictional splatter movie. The cast and crew seem less concerned about manufacturing onscreen violence and more into just killing one another. There are some sporadically amusing moments (the exploding horny werewolf raised a smile), weird ideas and Grade A eye candy (Linnea Quigley and Delia Shepphard being the female leads), but this can't sustain it for 86 laboured minutes. There's even a terrible musical number half way through in which 'Ethan', the plier-wielding serial killer, chases Linnea (wearing a 'VICTIM' t-shirt) around the set whilst occasionally stopping for the twist and the mashed potato. I really need to stop watching this kind of film before my brain gives out entirely. *1/2

The Howling 2 (1985)

Dir: Philippe Mora

This ludicrous sequel (subtitled "Your Sister Is A Werewolf!") isn't even fit to poop-scoop up after the original. It opens with Christopher Lee (who has publically derided this as "the low point" of his career) floating through space with a skeleton (!), warning the viewer of a dreadful, ancient evil. When he's not surfing the astral superhighway, Lee loiters at funerals, makes wild claims (ie: that older werewolves cannot be killed by silver bullets ("only titanium" - natch!)) and persuades a couple of non-entity pseudo-reporter types to go to Transylvania with him, in search of a wolf cult. One very musical human sacrifice later and an aging were-queen (Sybil Danning) materialises, ready to spend the rest of the film in a state of undress before learning how to shoot laser beams from her fingers in time for the finalé. If this all sounds entertaining, don't be fooled. Despite wacky set designs, OTT fetish costumes and a sadistically catchy theme song ("by the paaaale paaaaale moooon!"), "The Howling 2" is a plodding, dreary, poorly-lit experience, loaded with obvious padding (including two hand-puppet shows!) and truly atrocious dialogue. Even the hot'n'sweaty were-humping from Danning and her furry cronies can't liven this one up. EL BOMBA!