Rating: D
Dir: Dusty Austen
Star: Athena Murzda, Mia Jones, Aimee-Lynn Chadwick, LaVail Duncan
I’m sure there is a universe in which deciding to make a mumblecore werewolf movie is a good idea. I’m a hundred percent certain it isn’t this one, however. The idea of two young women taking on a voracious lycanthrope has potential: hello, Ginger Snaps. But the yawning chasm in execution, between it and the smug, self-satisfied nonsense we get here, would defy Evel Knievel. It was clear we were on dodgy territory right from the opening, in which a horrendously over-acting “homeless person” is dragged into a dumpster by the titular creature. This is followed by an equally unconvincing TV news report, which is basically all you’ll get for exposition.
I was already regretting my choices, and things were on the verge of getting much worse. For we were about to meet the main characters of Constance Wilmerson (Murzda – and wouldn’t you know it, she co-wrote this nonsense with Austen) and Percy ‘Sketch’ Williams (Jones). They kinda sorta live in a tyre shop, living off cat-food and restaurant scams. This makes little sense, because Constance has a device which apparently allows her to get money at will from ATMs. Meanwhile, Sketch is terminally ill with something, which is both of no relevance to the plot, and her sole defining characteristic. Two minutes spent with them, and I was purchasing a lifetime membership on #TeamWerewolf.
To be more precise, Team Dear God Are They Ever Going to Shut the Fuck Up, and Hopefully Get Eaten By the Werewolf. For the main priority here does not appear to be investigating the creature which has killed over thirty members of the homeless population (to basically zero official reaction, the film’s budget not extending to a single cop uniform). Not when they can be lounging around their abode and exchanging “witty” banter with each other. There’s also a lengthy subplot about Constance having a crush on Gloria Fitz (Chadwick, who also performed a slew of songs on the soundtrack – isn’t she just special?), who was imprisoned in a private school or something. Don’t worry: this goes nowhere either.
Or maybe she was the werewolf, because we are told on multiple occasions it doesn’t have a penis. If that’s the case though… Nah, I can’t be arsed to work that out. I will say, the creature appears to be nicely practical, though is likely kept to brief glimpses for a reason. There is also one genuinely unexpected moment, just after a stupid dance routine by Sketch, which made me pay attention. Briefly. However, it isn’t close to salvaging the film, in part because my reaction was likely the complete opposite of the one for which Austen was angling. Constance doesn’t seem too upset by it either, so why should I be? The whole exercise feels like a feature-length exercise in “I can’t be bothered.” Witness the ending where Constance merely… wanders off after the final battle with the beast. Your attention will likely have done similarly, well before then.