Reinforcing that tired old horror cliché that equates sex with death, Ted Harrison (Michael Pare) is enjoying a spot of rumpy with a comely lass in his tent in the middle of some jungle when she is rudely uprooted and shredded to pieces by a 7ft werewolf. Why Ted and his inamorata – or the werewolf, for that matter – are there in the jungle is never really satisfactorily explained, but that pretty much sums up this movie. Things don't happen for a logical reason, they simply happen to drive the narrative along, regardless of any diversions from rational storytelling they may take. Hence a full moon rises at least three nights in a row, and the stricken Ted seeks to cure his lycanthropy by simply moving in with his sister and nephew.
While Ted is being wounded by werewolves, big sister Janet (Mariel Hemingway) is displaying her gutsiness by seeing off a 'flopsy' (Hrothgar Matthews) – a type of grifter who provokes people's pets into attacking them then sues the owner. Unluckily for flopsy, he makes the mistake of trying his scam on her without realising she is a lawyer. A single-mum lawyer at that, who never seems to work and who never talks with her son (Mason Gamble) about his father, or what became of him. But then nobody in this movie has a history outside of its narrow parameters – their lives seem to have begun only with their first scene. The family pet upon which the hapless flopsy tries to work his scam, is Thor, a beautiful German Shepherd who probably gives the best performance of the film, and who has everything worked out a couple of reels before his less observant owner..
Director Eric Red, whose better works include The Hitcher and Body Parts stated that the film was intended as a metaphor for schizophrenia, which seems a little like stating the obvious. Every werewolf story ever created has been a metaphor for schizophrenia – in fact, the nature of the story means they can't help be anything else, so, if you're going to toil over familiar ground you need to dig up something a little fresher than the stale offering given here. The cast numbers only a handful, but there is little attempt to create any feeling of claustrophobia or friction amongst them as Janet slowly begins to realise who is responsible for the grisly deaths. And Red fails to create any measure of suspense as Ted begins to lose his struggle with both the beast inside and any consistency of character. Even Lon Chaney's Larry Talbot indulged in more introspection than Uncle Ted. All he seems to do is fret mildly over the safety of the two people in whose garden he has parked his trailer and handcuff himself to a tree to prevent himself from attacking them – even though he must have a key on his person somewhere to free himself when the transformation is over.
The acting is passable, as you would expect from journeymen like Pare and Hemingway, and Primo, the dog who plays Thor, is terrific, but the actors have little meat to their lines and are given little upon which to build believable or sympathetic characters. These are actors playing parts, and you never once forget the fact. But then, it is a horror flick, and the development of character has never been a major facet of the genre. In that respect, in relation to the mountain of trashy horror pics out there in DVDland, Bad Moon stands up pretty well; it's well-made and good-looking, and flashes of Red's talent are (all too) briefly discernible. But, in an age when the old horror icons have been replaced by lunatics in hockey masks or stripy jumpers, that isn't really much of an endorsement.
While Ted is being wounded by werewolves, big sister Janet (Mariel Hemingway) is displaying her gutsiness by seeing off a 'flopsy' (Hrothgar Matthews) – a type of grifter who provokes people's pets into attacking them then sues the owner. Unluckily for flopsy, he makes the mistake of trying his scam on her without realising she is a lawyer. A single-mum lawyer at that, who never seems to work and who never talks with her son (Mason Gamble) about his father, or what became of him. But then nobody in this movie has a history outside of its narrow parameters – their lives seem to have begun only with their first scene. The family pet upon which the hapless flopsy tries to work his scam, is Thor, a beautiful German Shepherd who probably gives the best performance of the film, and who has everything worked out a couple of reels before his less observant owner..
Director Eric Red, whose better works include The Hitcher and Body Parts stated that the film was intended as a metaphor for schizophrenia, which seems a little like stating the obvious. Every werewolf story ever created has been a metaphor for schizophrenia – in fact, the nature of the story means they can't help be anything else, so, if you're going to toil over familiar ground you need to dig up something a little fresher than the stale offering given here. The cast numbers only a handful, but there is little attempt to create any feeling of claustrophobia or friction amongst them as Janet slowly begins to realise who is responsible for the grisly deaths. And Red fails to create any measure of suspense as Ted begins to lose his struggle with both the beast inside and any consistency of character. Even Lon Chaney's Larry Talbot indulged in more introspection than Uncle Ted. All he seems to do is fret mildly over the safety of the two people in whose garden he has parked his trailer and handcuff himself to a tree to prevent himself from attacking them – even though he must have a key on his person somewhere to free himself when the transformation is over.
The acting is passable, as you would expect from journeymen like Pare and Hemingway, and Primo, the dog who plays Thor, is terrific, but the actors have little meat to their lines and are given little upon which to build believable or sympathetic characters. These are actors playing parts, and you never once forget the fact. But then, it is a horror flick, and the development of character has never been a major facet of the genre. In that respect, in relation to the mountain of trashy horror pics out there in DVDland, Bad Moon stands up pretty well; it's well-made and good-looking, and flashes of Red's talent are (all too) briefly discernible. But, in an age when the old horror icons have been replaced by lunatics in hockey masks or stripy jumpers, that isn't really much of an endorsement.