Starring: Louise Manteau, Victor Dieu, Marja-Leena Junker
Directed by: Jacques Molitor
Don’t ever let it be said that a mother’s love cannot pull someone out of the most troubling times, even if those times include bloodthirsty cravings and accelerated hair & nail growth…we’re talking about werewolves, people! If it so happens that you have an affinity towards all things lycanthropic, then feel free to step into the cold room, pull up a stool and sit near the slab, cause we’re about to dissect a WOLFKIN.
The original title being KOMMUNIOUN, this rabid-thriller focuses mainly on young Martin (Dieu), a boy without a father, and a mother (Manteau) that is trying her utmost to provide a bit of stability for the lad. When the film opens, we see a younger Elaine and Jack (Martin’s father) enjoying a fleshy romp in the grass, when Jack takes a whiff of Elaine’s belly, obviously sensing a seedling inside, to then where he inexplicably walks off into the forest, sans clothing. As time moves on, Martin begins exhibiting “growing pains”, if you will – complete with a raging temperament when he’s not fed, a hellacious rash that has him scratching till he bleeds…and oh yeah, there’s the biting…lots and lots of biting – if you’ve laid eyes on a myriad of wolf-transformation films you get the gist of what I’m laying down.
Elaine then acts on a motherly notion and heads out to locate Martin’s absentee pop, taking him to her in-laws residence, where they are equally as protective (firm, but fair), and perhaps slightly aware of what may be around the corner for the young man as time moves along. Resistance to their arrival comes in the form of brother Jean (Jules Werner), who isn’t at all pleased with the thought of this fatherless child roaming around his personal space. Even the family doctor is perplexed as to the rate of Martin’s progression when it comes to his affliction – there’s nothing like a quickly-maturing boy, I guess. With a plethora of extenuating ideologies revolving around Martin’s unstoppable evolution into something primal and uncontrollable, we see the mother/son bond get stretched to extremes before returning to a naturalistic grounding.
When we learn about the family’s true origins and meaning behind their actions (some pretty interesting tactics, actually), it becomes clearer as to why the quiet countryside has remained as such for centuries. This film is so much more than your generic creature feature: it borders on a textbook lesson about the levels of equality when it comes to categorizing humanity on differing platforms, and if that isn’t horrifying in its own right, then I can’t think of much else. Overall, WOLFKIN is a presentation that has the goods to appease cinephiles across multiple genres – make sure to give this one a good look when you have the opportunity.
