Picks and Pans Review: The Company of Wolves
Some werewolf movies are a scream. Some are a howl. This one is a snore. The only even remotely interesting aspect of the movie lies in wondering what ever possessed Angela Lansbury to appear in it. She plays an old granny who lives in the middle of the woods—rocking, knitting and muttering about how nasty men are. The beneficiary of Lansbury's advice is newcomer Sarah Patterson, who plays her granddaughter. She is a brooding sort, a neurotic Little Red Riding Hood, complete with red shawl, goody basket and weird thoughts. Screenwriter Angela Carter and director/co-screenwriter Neil Jordan may have had some notion of making this horror film a metaphor about the relationship between men and women. But any sense they were trying to make is buried under all the gothic sets, incessant scurrying about and murky forests full of extraneous animals (you can't take a step without happening upon a rat, toad, snake, owl, rabbit or weasel, not to mention the pack of wolves with glowing eyes). The film also has the most idiotic special effects since Cat People, with werewolves clawing their way out of their human forms. This process is neither scary nor interesting—it is just time-consuming and ineffably dull. Come to think of it, that pretty well describes the whole movie. (R)
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