Starring Caroline Munro, Joe Egan, Kristofer Dayne
Directed by Tony Jopia
‘Tis the season for Santa to dish out some of his more recommended goodies for all the nice boys and girls… however, there are those chosen few who didn’t necessarily abide by his “rules” during the course of the year. Instead of basking in the glow of a momentous holiday gift, they’re graced with a steaming pile of reindeer shit, fresh from the business end of one of his sleigh-pullers. Why am I rambling about the doling out of hay-laced Blitzen-bombs? Because, fellow readers, I’m referring to the latest piece of cinematic poo to speed out of Prancer’s pudding-blowhole: Crying Wolf.
Directed by Tony Jopia, the film takes place in the foggy little town of Deddington in the UK, where we focus upon a tiny little bookshop, run by the anomalous Caroline Munro, and if eccentric is an understatement, then allow me to slather it on quite heavily to correctly illuminate the kookiness her character is hiding under the hood. In any event, she is immensely reluctant to sell a leather-bound book to a visiting investigator, and after some bantering about, she finally gives up the goods, and it’s off to the pub for the private dick for some suds and a little reading. Turns out that he’s hot on the case of a missing man who may or may not have been shredded to pieces by a band of local werewolves, and the book in question could very well possess the answer… but the bigger question remains, “Will anyone care?”
Look, I could bore you all to death with the lackadaisical intricacies contained within this film, but I’m not that kind of torturous sadist so let me put it to you this way – we’ve got a bunch of bloodthirsty werewolves on the loose, and in the midst of this is a very sorry looking comedy SCREAMING to free itself from its shackles. The saddest instance here is that this really could have been a nice, tightly wrapped production… minus the horrific acting, deplorable CGI, inane plot-direction, and werewolf costuming that would possibly rival something you’d see in a grade-school presentation. However, if you’re a fan of boobs-n-blood, then you very well might find some redeeming qualities in this fondue pot of fecal atrociousness, but I could very well go on the record to say that you should DEFINITELY look for this cluster to make my Top 5 of the worst “horror” films to be unleashed in 2015… jeez, that even hurt my soul typing so much venom into one review.
If you really hate someone, and you’d rather spare yourself a broken hand from punching them directly in the jawline, then sit them down in front of Crying Wolf for 90 minutes. What’s even more of a kick to the gonads is that this was supposedly presented in 3D format – sorry, but if I wanted a closer look at what I’d just digested, I’d shove my head unswervingly into the porcelain. SKIP AT ALL COSTS.