Picks and Pans Review: Werewolf
You can tell that this is supposed to be a horror story because the victims are all dumb. The huge, hairy, sharp-toothed, slobbering werewolf is about to leap onto their car but they don't drive away. They just die. Fine. They're lucky to escape what is in fact a horror show with lines so overwritten and overacted they're terrifying. They don't live to hear Chuck Connors as an ancient, one-eyed, heavily accented werewolf say: "She's about to be eeeeten by ze beeg bad volf." But then again, it's a blessing that this show—a two-hour premiere for a half-hour Saturday-night series—is too ridiculous to take seriously. If we did take it seriously, we'd have to slam it for insensitive, exploitative bad taste in its crude attempt to follow Jeff Goldblum's lead in The Fly and give us a metaphor for AIDS: Two healthy young men-first Raphael (Better Days) Sbarge, then John J. York—come in contact with werewolf blood and catch a disease that York says is "kinda like as horrible as cancer or something." The ailment brings out an evil other side and the only escape is death. Instead, we can slam it for just being bad.