Limeys and Lycos
Posted by Socrates Crenshaw and Orlando W. Harris on Apr 23, 2004 - 11:40:00 PM
What do you get when you mix British commandos, British Special Forces and werewolves? That's right,no plot. "Dog Soldiers" is a perfect blend of the three. But having no plot leaves the path wide open to ceaseless killing and violence of every sort.
The killing starts not five minutes in when a couple in the woods is paid a visit by a hairy beast with sharp claws. No, it's not Rosie O' Donnell, it's the werewolves. They devour the girl and spew her innards all over her Cassanova who looks on in shock.
Flash back two hours earlier (we never find out why). A Special Forces squad is training a new recruit who earns his box of Godivas when he refuses to blow away a cute little Cujo attack dog. Our hearts went tender for a moment, but the captain's (who was training him) didn't. He splatters pooch brains across a nearby tree and leaves St. Francis, the dog lover, alone in the woods.
Flash forward four weeks later (we still don't find out why). Francis, alias Cooper, is now training with a squad of regular soldiers who are on a training exercise in Scotland. After a long day of maneuvers, the G.I. Jacks (a real British hero?) stumble upon some carved-up corpses and a wounded man who turns out to be Cooper's ex-captain. You know, the guy who blew away Spot.
And then let slip the werewolves of War. They are about to make a late supper out of the soldiers, but some bimbo with an old Land Rover comes along and rescues them. She takes them to a farmhouse where they hole up for the night, hoping to reach the safety of the morn.
It's Predator-meets-the-end-of-Young-Guns as the soldiers repel attacks by the wolves. And to complicate matters, the Special Forces captain and the squad's own sergeant have been infected and will turn into Los Lobos rejects at any time.
Photo Taken By Rachelle Sadler
Okay, the breakdown: we have 13 deaths and some good ones to boot including one disemboweling, one impalement a la Vlad, two soldiers who become main courses and then have their intestines used by the wolves as dental floss. Best death goes to the soldier who fistfights a werewolf, and then when cornered declares,
"I hope I give you the sh*ts!" Brilliant. A nod to the sergeant who wants to be knocked out before minor surgery but his man can't hit him hard enough, so he calls him out, inquiring about his French ancestry. Good night, sarge. No breasts, but the lead female role did transform into a werewolf herself, leaving our imaginations to wonder what other tricks she's capable of.
We give this one four kegs. See it tonight.
Think you've seen a worse movie? Or have you seen one at the video store but you're too scared to watch it yourself? E-mail any and all comments/suggestions (that aren't called Manos: The Hands of Fate) to firstname.lastname@example.org.