The mood of manhood is gone. The neatly spaced teeth I had wore braces for begin crowding again. My bones wax and ache. My flesh is swollen and purple like a boner or a bruise. The hair on my balls start to snap like violin strings...
-You're acting like a wolf man. Don't act like a wolf-man.
-More like a wolf, then?
-Don't act like a man or a wolf.
-But in this scene, I'm changing into a wolf, right?
-Yes, but it's a subtle thing. It's like you're giving up hope, but you don't even know it yet. If someone asked you, you'd say you still believed, absolutely. But in reality, you're done. And the next thing you know, you're a wolf. You know what I mean?
Or imagine you're at a party, right, and you're not drinking. Let's make that clear. You're not. You're not smoking either. And then people come around and they’re like talking about what? Salads and car insurance? Free calendars with salad recipes on them from the car insurance place.
And you're not looking down her dress. You're looking at her -the person. But she's a lively talker, a dancer, so sometimes she moves and your gaze hasn't moved. Hasn't tracked as quickly. And so you're looking at her, but she and her dress have moved.
And you're talking about things, but in a disinterested kind and avuncular way and you're not drinking. And the phone number is just about a piece of business you could be helpful with, if she is interested.
And so it really shouldn't be a big deal, isn't a big deal, if she is interested or not, because you are just being helpful. And likewise, no big deal when she goes to dance with that Giorgio guy, because it's just friendly and she's a dancer and you're not drinking.
And after about what feels like month but is really only thirty five minutes of people not really needing your help and the empanadas are gone and holy shit the chicken dance it turns out you are drinking after all. A lot. You're doing coke off a real estate flyer and chewing the tip you took off someone's practice fencing foil from the rec room.
This is the sort of change I am talking about.
Don't act like a wolf. Don't act like a man. Be a wolf. Be a man. So at the end of the movie, people don't talk about you changing. They just know. Like parents.
When I came to this film, I approached it with an air of skepticism. Can men become wolves? Really? I continued this skeptical attitude throughout the picture. Was that real? Isn’t this just hair and makeup? Aren’t these actors? Am I dreaming? Am I a wolf-man?
Halfway through filming I encountered and old gypsy woman who convinced me that wolf-men and time travel were real by showing me pictures of 19th Century wolf-men riding an ordinary bicycle. You know, the kind with the big wheels. These were not included in the final picture because of the technical limitations of special effects.
The old gypsy woman convinced me that the best way to get the best performance out of my cast and crew would be to make them all into real were-wolves and that I should give her an assistant producer credit.
And that is the reason for this curse, this awful curse and some of the bad pre-publicity.
How Many Wolf-men Are There In This Movie?
A lot. I don’t know how many. I think this wolf-man picture has more wolf-men than any other. There are literally dozens. Possibly hundreds.
Our story tries to follow the traditional legends and classic film narrative. Our protagonist is a clerk working for a law firm in England. He is sent abroad to close a real estate deal with a mysterious count in a foreign country. On his way there, he is bitten by a mailman.
While he is recovering, the mailman explains very indirectly, through a series of stolen letters, that the man is now under a terrible curse, that he is a wolf-man.
His only aid is the scientist, Count Dracula, who has invented a coffin-shaped time machine. He sends him back in time to prevent the mailman from being bitten.
Only he arrives instead in prehistoric times and all the dinosaurs and cavemen are all vampires and cannot be killed with the ordinary bazooka and flame thrower he has brought. He meets an ancient astronaut Aztec mummy who reveals to him the whole mission was a trap, set by Dracula, to rule the earth. Also, Dracula stole the mummy’s time machine. Dracula really isn’t a scientist.
The wolf-man's only hope is now the Aztec mummy scientist-astronaut who has the power to send the wolf-man further back to Dracula's home planet.
When the wolf-man arrives on Dracula's home planet, he finds it is a total wasteland, drained completely of blood, teeth marks everywhere. It is totally depressing and fallen in, like a planet sized sofa belonging to a person who spends too much time there sleeping during the day, downloading but not filling out applications. It is also completely uninhabited except for Dracula's dog.
His only chance now comes in the form of the help from the inventions of Dracula's dog, who is also a scientist and has the power to return the wolf-man to the present and also render him invisible.
Meanwhile, in the present, Dracula reigns supreme, indulging his twin indulgences of riding dinosaurs and redecorating. Using the powers of invisibility given to him by Dracula's dog, the Wolf-man is able to topple Dracula's empire. However, as he is invisible, no one can see him, so Dracula takes credit for everything.
The wolf-man then realizes he is not a wolf at all, but merely an invisible man.
Dracula's dog takes pity on the non-wolf-man and beams him to a planet of invisible men and women. However, as they are all invisible, he and the other occupants of the planet believe themselves to be alone.
The film ends this way, on a populated but lonely planet of invisible people. Meanwhile, back on Earth, the cursed mailman is delivering ordinary mail to your house.
Er, how does this Time Machine of yours work, Count Dracula?
Very simple. In your case, the lid closes. Time passes. In due course, they dig you up.
Are you sure they'll dig me up?
Believe me, they always dig you up. When you wake up, everything is forgotten. All your enemies are dead. Though be warned: sometimes they have children.
Wait, am I going to die?
What? You're a werewolf. You can only be killed with a silver bullet. Time and boredom, my friend, are no silver bullet. They're much worse, believe me.
Thank you so much, Count, for everything. Will I see you again?
Most certainly, dear boy. Now don't let go of the roses! It looks bad when they open the coffin.