Rating: C+
Dir: Mark Polonia
Star: Brice Kennedy, Jamie Morgan, Cody Losinger, Greta Volkova
There’s no denying the Polonia Brothers have a passion for the B-movie genre, churning out what feels like dozens of movies a year. However, to be brutally honest, many are quite terrible. I could barely get through the trailer for Cocaine Shark, and I will watch just about anything with a fin in it. On the other hand, Doll Shark made me laugh, at least occasionally. Into which category would Cocaine Werewolf fall? Lured by the rare opportunity to see a Polonia film on an actual theatre-sized screen, I was curious to find out. Mind you, large-scale projection isn’t necessarily a good thing, since it magnifies flaws as well. There’s certainly no shortage of those here. But this seems particularly self-referential, and as Alcoholics Anonymous say – acknowledging your problem is the first step to recovery.
I think a major step up from its predecessor is, actually delivering on the Cocaine part. Reports suggest Shark was your basic Polonia film, hastily retitled to cash in shamelessly on a certain bear-shaped movie. It otherwise would probably pass a drug test, which pissed a lot of viewers off. Werewolf addresses that shortcoming, with more Colombian marching powder than a party at Robert Downey Jr’s house, circa 1995. Though the titular creature is not a lycanthrope who finds a stash of cocaine, more a cokehead who gets bitten by one, and subsequently transforms when he has a toot. The main victims are the cast and crew of a Z-movie slasher movie, filming around a nearby farmhouse, and that’s where the self-referential stuff kicks in, picking at the scabby art of ultracheap cinema.
It does meander for a bit to get there. We begin with an OnlyFans model and her boyfriend losing their heads when doing a bit of Red Riding Hood content cosplay, then we have to get the various pieces in place. While hardly Christopher Nolan levels of writing, this is more effort than certain Polonia films, whose plots sometimes border on the impromptu. The effects are generally ropey, as you would expect. The werewolf mask is kinda decent, with big fangs and glowing red eyes. But it’s quite obviously inorganic, and the rest is mostly around the level of Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla, with basically non-existent transformations. There is some nudity: surprisingly not from the OnlyFans girl, and it’s more functional than sexy.
Cleopatra Records were co-producers here, so you get some unexpected goth/industrial names on the soundtrack, even if these don’t always fit the action. Otherwise, there are few pretensions beyond dumb fun – I have to say, I was acceptably entertained. And, sometimes, genuinely amused: the “cellphone signal” scene is the best skewering of that horror trope I’ve seen. The ending suggests an entire extended Cocaine cinematic universe looming, which may be as much a threat as a promise. For, make no mistake, you do need a strong tolerance of, and appreciation for, no-budget horror. Though if you’re watching a film with this title, you’re likely half-way there already.
The film screened as part of the Albuquerque Film Festival.