Review: WEREWOLVES Satiates Our Hunger for Werewolf Combat

Steven C. Miller’s lycan action-thriller Werewolves is a little bit Dog Soldiers, a dash of The Purge, and a decent amount of howl-and-gun excitement. It’s high on indie spirits but not clear of shortcomings. Miller’s further return to the horror genre after 2022’s smarthouse slasher Margaux feels tethered to his prior run of shoot-em-up Bruce Willis collaborations and too serious for its good. Legendary SFX artist Alec Gillis designs all the film’s snarling monsters, a highlight of Werewolves, but something else is missing from the experience that prevents this scrappy creature feature from breaking into the furry subgenre’s upper echelon.

Frank Grillo stars as Wesley Marshall, the hunky molecular biologist for a rapid response team trying to cure the world of a global werewolf event. Once a year, a supermoon alters human DNA and turns anyone into a mythical wolf-person. Under program honcho Dr. Aranda (Lou Diamond Phillips), Marshall hopes a freshly invented “Moonscreen” liquid can prevent humans from succumbing to the supermoon’s mutations. He leaves sister-in-law Lucy (Ilfenesh Hadera) and her daughter Emma (Kamdynn Gary) in their suburban fortress behind fencing and boobytraps, waiting for nightfall to test the Moonscreen. If it works, millions of lives might be saved — but that doesn’t prevent werewolves from crashing everyone’s party.

Now, hear me out. Sure, Werewolves uses the term “Moonscreen,” or allows werewolves to retain their human clothing (leather jackets, bulletproof vests), and even has a Big Bad Wolf bust through a brick wall. Matthew Kennedy’s script acknowledges the jokiness of story material, yet the film’s conveyed tone is deathly straightforward. Grillo plays a washboard-abs scientist with stern faces and minimal reactions, no-selling otherwise batshit horror situations. Or, even worse, benchmark dramatic beats like Lucy’s reciting of a militaristic home defense mantra feels wooden and one-note. Werewolves features lycanthropes of fortune and cockamamie laboratory experiments, enough to pull us in, but chosen performance tones don’t always match concepts let off the leash. Development is thinner, rushing past backstory setups with characters who exist as prototypical pawns.

You can’t deny Gillis' fully mobile werewolf costumes. How nostrils flare, and mandibles function adds facial character to zoomed-in cinematography since Miller doesn’t have to hide his beasts. Lycans flaunt individuality, from one jarhead’s patriotic face paint marking his werewolf self to the turned CBGB’s regular with werewolf-sized nose and ear piercings (“Punk Princess,” as per the script). Gillis conquers the film’s meticulous effects challenge by knocking practical werewolf details out of the park, which lends to the film’s overall ferocity. By optimizing each beefy suit’s range of motion, werewolves can be more than lumbering statues during fight sequences that only swipe at heroes while standing in place — these meanies can stalk, lunge, and brawl like champs.

On the flip side, digital effects aren’t as dependable. Transformation sequences can’t avoid the generic animated template we’ve seen reused by countless indie werewolf flicks, hardly challenging An American Werewolf in London. Miller’s independently funded feature accomplishes everything it possibly can, but there are still gaps in quality that bring the production back down to earth. Even in tangible form, there are some questionable visuals, like the representation of an adolescent werewolf who looks more like Cindy Lou Who. I love where Miller’s willing to push, whether that’s a werewolf vs. werewolf deathmatch or roving gangs with car-mounted miniguns who spark minor turf wars, but Werewolves sometimes appears out of its depth. 

Dueling highs and lows define the whole hair-raising experience. Grillo and co-star Katrina Law find themselves in enjoyable battleground situations against fantastically crafted foes, but that can’t be every scene. An opening before-the-storm segment in Lucy’s house features more lens flares than Michael Bay and plays flatly formulaic, which circles back to my tonal complaints. Mileage will vary based on how much of your werewolf adoration rests on monster visuals (which deserve applause). What’s surprising is how Grillo isn’t bulletproof as an ass-kicking lead, stone-facing to a detriment, or how crazier elements feel made for late-night cable yet are shot like awards bait. A film with split personalities?

Still, Werewolves has enough to offer diehard subgenre purists. It’s never as successful as clear comparison points like Dog Soldiers or Bad Moon, but Miller’s wild pack attacks satiate our hunger for werewolf combat. Perhaps I’m craving more substance, but we’re also talking about a werewolf movie with top-tier effects traits and brutal slayings at crucial moments. Could be worse, could be better, but reads on the level. I’m just here for the werewolves, baby.

Movie Score: 3/5