Main cast: Reece Connolly (Archie Whittock), Tim Cartwright (Horrace Raycraft), Natalie Martins (Jane), Mark McKirdy (Reverend Pankhurst), Jessica Alonso (Minnie), Rory Wilton (Bernard Bagley), James Swanton (Willie), Emma Spurgin Hussey (Martha Hogwood) and Barrington De La Roche (Vincent Hogwood)
Director: Charlie Steeds
Don’t be fooled by the title A Werewolf in England into thinking that it is related in any way to the classic werewolf flick An American Werewolf in London.
In fact, this one wishes that it is as, er, good as the sequel to the other film, because my god, someone told Charlie Steeds that the script is an amazing comedy horror when it is actually more akin to watching a train run over some puppies in a loop.
Set in what seems like some English place in the 19th century, we have some police officer—or whatever, who cares—Horrace Raycraft escorting his prisoner Archie Whittock for the execution of the latter in the next day.
Archie claims that he had decapitated a werewolf, but the werewolf transformed into a kid shortly after the cops found them, so now he’s going to be hanged for what seems like murder.
Alas, it is late and they have to spend the night at an inn run by two cackling, chortling, so obviously evil siblings Martha and Vincent.
Soon, these two and the few guests plus the two resident prostitutes will realize that the innkeepers have a pact with the local werewolves to offer these werewolves six sacrifices during the blood moon in order for the werewolves to leave the two be.
Unfortunately, the guests foil the innkeepers’ plan, and it’s the blood moon, so the three werewolves decide that it’s just right for them to lay siege on the inn.
Oh boy, where do I start?
The comedy is horrific. Instead of relying on wit, the movie goes all out with the dumbest kind of slapstick antics.
Remember how Archie is supposed to have decapitated a werewolf? Well, for the rest of the movie, he will put his time to most productive use by screaming like a high-pitched little girl that can’t shoot or do anything even when he has plenty of opportunity to take down a werewolf.
He, like the rest of the characters, tend to make a lot of noise. Every thought that crosses their head has to be yelled out loud. They can’t stop making a lot scream when they’re supposed to be silent, they naturally trip or stumble when they are supposed to be fleeing, and they can’t aim or even shoot.
At one point in the movie, one of the prostitutes has a gun aimed at the werewolf. Will she shoot? No, she just walks backward for a long time as the werewolf approaches her, she even has time to quip before finally getting pounced off and dragged off-screen by the werewolf. Is this done for laughs?
The werewolves aren’t any better. They move like clowns hired to scare kids in a fairground horror house—arms lifted high like a Scooby-Doo villain, making exaggerated large steps with the knee raised high with each step—and they are easily the most incompetent werewolves around; being able to kill mooks only when the script allows it.
So, in one scene they can tear down a wall, but in another scene they can’t even punch down a door. They can sense their prey with supernatural accuracy in one scene, but in the next one, they can’t even see the guy that happens to be where they are defecating onto (please don’t ask me, I’m trying to forget I have even seen that… that… shudder) even when that fellow is making a lot of noise.
Throughout it all, convenient plot developments are pulled out of the collective rear ends of all those involved in this movie—I hope they feel very remorseful for the pain they have put me through—and frankly, the whole thing is an unfunny mess featuring loud, obnoxious, and unlikable one-dimensional characters that, for the most part, just refuse to die as an added insult to my injuries.
In fact, this movie bills itself as An American Werewolf in London meets Dog Soldiers, making me wonder whether the whole thing had been concocted after someone decided that the concept would be an easy money maker, and only then they defecated the script out like the werewolf doing the poo on the main characters.
Wait, or is that doing the poo right into the audience’s mouth? It can be hard to tell from all the excruciating pain I am experiencing while staring wide-eyed at this train wreck and being unable to turn away even when every sense of mine is screaming at me to stop, just stop.
There’s a nice, long lingering scene of a naked guy’s arse as he crawls along the floor, but sadly, it’s not that great an arse to make me forgive the rest of the movie.
It’s a shame that this movie is brain cancer, because I suspect that, had this one been played out in a manner that is more sober, it could be an entertaining rip-off of Dog Soldiers. There are some good ideas here, and there are also some occasional cool gore.
These things and the naked arse keep this wretched thing out of the one-oogie hall of shame, but honestly, just don’t watch this one unless you have a liking for clumsily done, incompetent slapstick comedy that seems to have originated from the mind of a scat-obsessed teenager.
