Hungry like the wolf
Start in England with classic gothic horror stories and Hammer Studios' lurid, splashy recreations of same. Jaunt to the United States for Western heroes like the Lone Ranger and the broad, operatic gestures of directors like Sam Peckinpah. Leap to Hong Kong for its reinterpretations of American action styles, not to mention those extravagant martial arts that fly in the face of physics. End in France with opulent historical detail and a casual attitude toward sex.
And those are only the most obvious predecessors to Brotherhood of the Wolf, Christophe Gans' horror/action-adventure/ martial-arts/romance/period piece. With so many ingredients in the melting pot, Wolf can be messy and a bit much, but it takes palpable pleasure in global pop cinema.
Gans reveals his eye for cinematic iconography when we first see the heroes, who appear as mysterious, perhaps mythic figures on horseback in the rain, wearing tricorn hats and up-turned collars so only their eyes are visible. Good Samaritans, they interrupt a highway robbery, with one dismounting to dispatch a group of goons with just his hands, feet and a quarterstaff. Gans renders the incident in slow motion and sharp focus that lets you feel every impact and see every raindrop.
We've just met the Chevalier de Fronsac (Samuel Le Bihan) and his traveling buddy, the "Mohawk Iroquois" Mani (Hawaiian-born martial artist Mark Dacascos). It's 1764 and Fronsac is helping in the hunt for the Beast of Gauvedan, a wolf-like animal (based on an actual legend) that's been terrorizing the countryside, as shown by a Jaws-like attack that opens the film. Globetrotting Fronsac describes himself as both a naturalist and a libertine: He can both trade quips with the decadent aristocracy and perform autopsies like a modern medical examiner.
Fronsac and Mani soon suspect that the Beast is more than just a savage wolf and that the local nobles are up to no good. Their investigation takes them from huge hunting parties to vine-choked ruins to brawls with tomahawk-throwing ruffians. In matters of the heart, Fronsac woos the virginal blond Mariane (Emilie Dequenne) by day. At night he beds a sultry Tarot-reading courtesan (Malena's Monica Belucci).
Fronsac and Mani both prove ingenious at ferreting out cover-ups, constructing booby traps and wielding all manner of weaponry. If the flamboyant fight choreography seems reminiscent of chop-sockey pictures, one should recall that France has a tradition of kickboxing that significantly predates Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee.
Wolf does have a hybrid vigor similar to Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Ang Lee's mixture of kung fu fighting and Jane Austen marital concerns. But where Tiger's diverse elements dovetailed for thematic resonance, Gans simply piles one trashy pleasure on top of another: Swordfights! Nudity! Monsters!
At well over two hours long, Wolf grows convoluted and top-heavy, leaving you uncertain as to how one shadowy group relates to another and questioning Gans' metaphorical intentions. The Beast can be read as a symbol for the brutality of pre-Revolutionary France, or maybe it just represents anything bad the script happens to think of.
Brotherhood of the Wolf puts more on its plate than it can fully digest, but it still provides a sumptuous feast for movie fans. Its photography makes most films look like black and white, whether it's capturing blood on snow, exploding pumpkins or Monica Belucci's flesh. Like a luxurious French restaurant, Wolf serves a cinema of voluptuousness, with sexy kicks and stimulations that both enthrall and leave you a little hungover.
