Editorials
“Listening is Where the Love Begins”: The Power of Kindness in ‘Werewolves Within’
Werewolves Within begins in darkness, as the sounds of howling wind and menacing strings accompany a black screen. Slowly, white text fades into view, each line shivering alone for a moment before the next forms. “Listening is where the love begins,” declares the first line, followed by the second, “Listening to ourselves.” The third line appears in pieces, starting with the words, “and then,” before finally completing the sentence with, “our neighbors.” As the background cacophony builds, the words remain silent on the screen, forcing us to consider their full and dreadful weight. With a sudden musical sting, attribution to the quote appears: “Mr. Rogers.”
That’s a great joke, the first of many in the delightful film from director Josh Ruben and screenwriter Mishna Wolff. To some, the juxtaposition of Mr. Rogers’s words and scary music is ironic and laughable, rendering the kindly old minister’s life philosophy as impotent and ridiculous against the threat of monsters. While Ruben and Wolff clearly welcome the audience’s laughter, it’s also clear that the movie isn’t interested in making fun of Mr. Rogers’ ideals. Instead, Werewolves Within is a horror movie in which listening and love, of ourselves and of our neighbors, is more powerful than any evil.
The filmmakers spread that belief through the movie’s protagonist, Forest Ranger Finn Wheeler, played by the endlessly charming comedian Sam Richardson. From his very first scenes, Finn establishes himself as a nice guy, one who struggles to find the balance between being honest about his wants and being respectful to others.
At first, Finn comes off as a bit of a pushover. We meet him as he’s driving to his new post in the New England town of Beaverfield, leaving a message for his estranged girlfriend. “Give me a call,” Finn says toward the end of the message. But he quickly catches himself and amends the command to say, “or don’t, your choice.” Again, he catches himself and again amends his statement to say, “I would like to hear from you,” before proudly declaring, “this is me saying what I want.”
In his introduction, Finn seems indecisive and weak-willed, making him a poor choice to come to Beaverfield. The tiny town is being torn apart by the proposed pipeline, with some certain that the addition will destroy their idyllic abode and others desperate for the payout the company is offering.
Finn finds himself caught in the town’s division almost immediately. Upon entering the inn where he’ll be staying, Finn literally stands in between the innkeeper Jeanine Sherman (Catherine Curtin) and oil company representative Sam Parker (Wayne Duvall), as the latter pressures the former to sell her property. When Sam interprets Finn’s observation about the dangers of the pipeline as a threat, the ranger nearly trips over himself to assure the oilman that he meant no offense.
In the first few scenes, Werewolves Within establishes Finn as a nice protagonist, the latest in a long line of kind-hearted, Mr. Rogers-loving heroes in popular culture. Paddington Bear, as voiced by Ben Wishaw in the wonderful family films by Paul King, and the Jason Sudeikis character Ted Lasso, the American football coach turned English football coach in the show that bears his name, are at the forefront of this movement. One can easily see why such characters would be so popular. Beyond the sheer quality of storytelling involved in their respective features, Paddington and Ted Lasso represent a welcome corrective to the hate-filled anger of the Trump era, much of which was presaged by and continues online.
But in most cases, characters like these feel wholly fantastic. We like to believe Paddington’s maxim, “If we are kind and polite, the world will be right.” We want to share Ted Lasso’s adoption of Walt Whitman’s advice and be curious instead of judgmental. But these characters deal with relatively low-stakes threats. Sure, Ted must experience the relegation of his team and the dissolution of his marriage, and Paddington faces taxidermy and imprisonment. But these threats back away fairly quickly, leaving our heroes in peace. One could be forgiven for thinking that the kindness preached by these characters only works against such minor threats.
Werewolves Within takes this same approach and applies it to a truly monstrous story. As the citizens of Beaverfield metaphorically attack one another over the pipeline decision, a werewolf appears to literally attack them, starting with Mrs. Sherman’s husband and a yuppy couple’s dog. Supported only by letter carrier Cecily (Milana Vayntrub), Finn must convince the townspeople to put aside their differences and stay together in the inn, working together to deal with the lupine threat. As the townspeople cast blame on one another, Finn reminds them that they’re all neighbors, all part of the community.
SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE FILM BELOW.
As the movie unfolds, the movie endorses Finn’s perspective. Sure, the werewolf still attacks some people, but most of the townspeople die by killing each other. Not only do they fail to stop the actual monster, but they kill more citizens than the werewolf.
Conversely, Finn stays alive precisely because he puts trust in others and treats them with respect. Even in the film’s climax, when he realizes that Cecily is the werewolf, Finn holds on to his principles. “This town is full of two-faced assholes, and you know it,” Cecily rants at Finn, frustrated that he won’t be mean like the others. In response, Finn’s hero speech is a defense of politeness. “Sorry! I’ve gotta tell you, it’s fucking okay to be nice,” he rants, before catching himself again; “Excuse my language; it’s f-ing okay to be nice.”
As she transforms into a wolf, Cecily dismisses the idea. “In a dog-eat-dog world, you could be nice,” she sneers before flashing a sharp-toothed smile and saying, “Or you could be me.” By the end of the scene, Finn does have to fight to save his own life, finally (almost) killing her by shoving a snowshoe through her ear. But even then, he refuses to subscribe to a dog-eat-dog philosophy. In fact, it’s his kindness that ultimately saves his life, as he’s rescued from Cecily’s attacks by Mrs. Sherman and by Emerson Flint (Glenn Fleshler), the reclusive survivalist who is convinced by Finn’s invocation of Mr. Rogers.
By showing us the power of kindness and good neighborliness, the finale of Werewolves Within clarifies the joke in its opening. Yeah, it’s funny that a Mr. Rogers quote appears juxtaposed against threatening darkness. But the darkness does not overtake the quote. Instead, those words shine through and sit above the darkness.
Werewolves Within shows us that treating others with respect and dignity isn’t suitable to silly premises in kid’s movies and sitcoms. Rather, it’s a powerful weapon to counter evil, far more effective than paranoia and attack. If we listen to ourselves, listen to our neighbors, and act out of love, then we can defeat all sorts of monsters, whether they be masquerading werewolves or aggressive neighbors – just like Mr. Rogers taught us.
Werewolves Within is now available on all VOD outlets.
Horror was thriving so well in the 1980s that movies like Pen Densham’s The Kiss (1988) would understandably get lost in the shuffle, only to then gain their fans later on in life. Even still, this one Canadian-American curio has had a more challenging time than others, as far as contemporary reevaluations go, which is very likely due to the movie’s limited availability—at least as of this write-up.
However, the scarceness of The Kiss, while a bit annoying, makes it like catnip for ‘80s horror completists everywhere. Hopefully, a lot of them will walk away satisfied after watching this hidden gem.
Even though The Kiss was intended as the first of several horror collaborations between Astral Pictures and TriStar, as well as the first feature produced by Densham, Richard B. Lewis and John Watson’s Trilogy Entertainment Group, it ended up being the only one produced from that former union. Once the movie was released, TriStar’s distribution jitters—they opted for a regional rollout—did the $6-million flick no favors. TriStar’s cold feet toward horror releases have been well noted, but The Kiss still did a tad better than Night of the Creeps (1986), another genre outing that flopped due to its regional opening.
Shot in Montreal, but set in Albany, New York, The Kiss—which was still called The Host just a few months before its October premiere—concerns an average middle-class family and their forthcoming situation. The uncanny problem in store for them was, in fact, set in motion some years earlier. As that hot and dusty flashback to the Belgian Congo shows, a familial curse was set upon the two Dunbar sisters well before Meredith Salenger’s teenage character was born.
Meredith Salenger, Nicholas Kilbertus and Mimi Kuzyk in The Kiss
The Kiss, which was based on a story by co-writer Stephen Volk (Ghostwatch) and penned by both Volk and Tom Ropelewski, has the outward appearance of The Stepfather (1987). This movie, though, is anything but a gender-flipped retread of that classic domestic disturber. For starters, The Kiss is far less grounded in reality—that much is clear from its unsettling opening scene. There, a trusting girl (Priscilla Mouzakiotis) is the victim of her own deceptive aunt (Céline Lomez); the movie’s titular act, and the story’s first shock, becomes the means of transferring an ancient evil from one host to another.
In the present day, Salenger’s role of Amy Halloran, a religious schoolgirl, is dealt a harsh blow in life once her mother, Hilary Halloran née Dunbar (Pamela Collyer), suddenly dies in a freak accident. But rather than a complete stranger sweeping the Halloran widower (Nicholas Kilbertus) off his feet some months later, Joanna Pacula’s character is that chosen temptress. Here, Pacula plays the grown-up version of the afflicted girl last seen in the movie’s opener. Since Amy’s mother is insistent about there being no reunion between estranged sisters, and she even contemplates buying a gun shortly before her tragic demise, it’s presumable that Aunt Felice poses a threat to her family.
The Kiss isn’t a movie ever too concerned about its own predictability. The audience is indeed often one step ahead of the story here, but also keep in mind how every one of those steps is loud. Take, for instance, the death of Amy’s mother; the Halloran matriarch goes out in garish, gruesome fashion, as a supernaturally commandeered truck sends Collyer’s character through a store window first, then leaves her one leg short. The directorial enthusiasm truly comes out in horrific moments such as these.
The Kiss is always sure to revel in its characters’ ills and misfortunes. So if the plot doesn’t impress, then its lurid parts should. Amy’s mother’s exit scene was proof of an eager, first-time horror director proving his worth. Then, bestie Heather (Sabrina Boudot) survives to tell the tale of a bizarre escalator mishap that, despite showing relatively less gore, spikes viewers’ empathy meter. The wilder bits of this movie, however, commence with that inevitable hookup between Felice and Amy’s bewitched father; their kitchen coitus is paralleled by Amy’s feverish classroom terror. The outcome there is a disquieting cross-cut of sex magic and a young woman’s menstrual onset plus hallucinations.
Sabrina Boudot in The Kiss
From foam appliances to bladders, that parade of special effects in The Kiss casts its own spell on the audience. Felice’s familiar, a visibly malevolent cat, was realized here with several models, some more articulate than others. Admittedly, the demon cat’s not as convincing as most of the effects here, but accepting that artifice, as opposed to fighting it, will make the whole experience way more enjoyable. As for the makeup used to manifest Felice’s inner villainy, it is more minimal and subtle than one might like; yet the work done to turn Pacula into an antithesis of herself is nonetheless compelling.
The otherworldly perils and dreadful goings-on wouldn’t work half as well as they do in The Kiss without the story’s contrast effect. Finding frights in picturesque, extremely ordinary settings was something that took off in the ‘80s, thanks to that sweeping shift to locales like the suburbs. And Amy’s home, a replica of a real Montreal suburban house, is the ideal battleground for any proper good-versus-evil story. It’s also prime real estate for this movie’s satanic panic-inspired horrors.
Because of their ostensibly similar plots, The Kiss has been compared to The Exorcist (1973). Except in Densham’s movie, the sinister, non-Christian entity targeting a teen girl lies within something less apparent and, perhaps, more devastating upon its exposure. To an outsider, Pacula’s Aunt Felice is too beautiful and unobjectionable to ever suspect of being a monster. More suspicious is how quickly she rips into the fabric of the Halloran home. Felice’s mere presence upsets the “texture of family life,” according to the director.
The demon cat in The Kiss
Taking out Amy’s mother and best friend, and distracting her father, would suggest The Kiss is playing by a different set of rules. It is initially leaving its adolescent target unsupported in a rather grim scenario. In contrast, though, this story offers up a surrogate parent who does her best to fill in the holes of Amy’s eroding home life. Mimi Kuzyk does good work as that family friend and doctor, Brenda, who guides the lost child without also steering her in any one direction; she is naturally skeptical of Amy’s accusations until it’s almost too late to do anything about them. So although The Kiss does an admirable job of undoing the main character’s support system, it never leaves her without a lifeline. This dark movie, in spite of everything that’s transpired, doesn’t deprive itself of light and hope.
The Kiss is a potent mélange of familiar ideas. If not for the director’s surprise flair for horror, though, the movie would have been less effective. What a shame that Pen Densham didn’t continue with the genre. As for Joanna Pacula, she is, too, owed credit as the wicked vixen opposite Meredith Salenger’s pitiable Amy; she never fails to be unsettling in her role. Pacula makes Aunt Felice a sexy yet intimidating character.
For horror that steadily doles out madness and menace, while also delivering a flashy and ghastly conclusion, The Kiss is certain to please. Yes, it’s cheesy all the way, but most favorably, everyone involved plays everything straight. That kind of commitment goes a long way with this movie.
The Kiss
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