Werewolves Within (2021)

There is werewolf within, there is werewolf without

The bar for video game movies is very low. On an episode of our podcast a few months ago, we talked about video game movies through the lens of the 2016 film Warcraft, and I couldn’t come up with a single video game movie I genuinely liked. The closest is probably Tetris, which doesn’t really count, and which I barely like, I guess. King of Kong gets a thumbs up, but it’s a documentary, not an adaptation. I haven’t seen too many joystick-to-screen flicks, but few of the ones on my radar look even a little promising.

Even with that low standard to bear, I’m still pretty surprised to see Vulture pick Werewolves Within as the greatest video game movie ever made. I would not consider this a “great” movie in really any definition of the word — it’s neither remarkably good nor remarkably ambitious or large-scale. In fact, that seems to be part of the reason Vulture has honored it. Most video game movies insist upon themselves; their video game-ness is paramount to their existence. Some, like The Super Mario Bros. Movie (and, based on reviews I’ve read, the new Minecraft movie), are more video game trailer than film. Others are indebted to the epic scope and spectacle of their source games if not the exact narrative, and rarely with the goods to back that up. But you could easily watch Werewolves Within and not know that it’s based on a Steam and PlayStation VR social deduction game. Quoting Jordan Crucchiola at Vulture: “It just feels like a fun little genre comedy that would premiere at SXSW and everyone would get a kick out of.” Sure; I don’t really disagree! But that’s what gets you to #1?

Werewolves Within is the second film by CollegeHumor and Dropout comedian Josh Ruben who has carved a niche as a horror-comedy director the past few years. His first film, Scare Me, was not my cup of tea, a stinker in both concept and execution. Werewolves Within is a big step up, in part because he didn’t write the screenplay. It’s credited to Mishna Wolff, a humorist who makes the rounds on New Yorker-type publications and — like Ruben and several members of the cast — has a background in improv comedy.

The story is a breezy horror riff on And Then Were None (also, more relevantly, a riff on the parlor game Mafia/Werewolf). People and animals in the backwoods town of Beaverfield start dying to wounds that appear to come from a large lupine creature, as per the film title. Newly hired forest ranger Finn (Sam Richardson) pairs with mail carrier Cecily (Milana Vayntrub) to investigate the deaths. Pretty much all the residents of the town have one reason or another they might want to exact violence on their peers. Some of it relates to interpersonal beefs — e.g. Trisha (Michaela Watkins) uncovers that her husband Pete (Michael Chernus) has been having an affair. Some of it is based on social strata: A local wealthy couple (Cheyenne Jackson, Harvey Guillen) resents the lifestyle of the local working class (Sarah Burns, George Basil), and vice versa.

The town’s most prominent conflict, though, concerns a proposed pipeline. Businessman Sam (Wayne Duvall) wants to buy large chunks of the town’s land for his capitalistic purposes. This proposal would upend the local hangout spot owned by Jeanine (Catherine Curtin) and gravely upset the intimidating, rugged loner Emerson (Glenn Fleshler). Environmental scientist Dr. Ellis (Rebecca Henderson) is against the proposal as well.

So we have our lineup of suspects who start falling, one by one. The suspicion shifts from person to person as more evidence and violence pile up. It’s an Agatha Christie tribute, but with its frequent deaths and B-rate gore, it feels more like a slasher at times. Ruben and Wolff keep it fleet and featherweight. They probably could have trimmed a couple of characters to keep a bit more narrative focus and make each personality pop a bit more, but it’s reasonably sturdy as a story. The story threads the needle of obfuscating whether its violence is actually supernatural or just staged to appear so. I genuinely didn’t know where it would go, though I had my guesses based on its “horror” marketing.

Unfortunately, Werewolves Within is neither a standout comedy nor an exemplary horror film, meaning it’s in a bit of a no-man’s-land. Maybe you’ll vibe with the sense of humor more than I did; it’s a little too much “well that just happened” for me. But there are a few small laughs tucked in: “Heavens to fuck” is a charming turn of phrase, and “a good old fashioned sleepover… with guns” made me chuckle. Richardson is game and does a great job keeping the film light and comic without being too try-hard. Vayntraub keeps up (and she’s, um, easy on the eyes). The supporting crew is colorful; shoutout to Watkins, in particular, who is on my list of comedy character actors who make everything they appear in better.

The conclusion is… fine. The film simultaneously introduces a bit of a didactic thematic thrust and makes fun of itself for doing so. Its slight pivot to darkness is at least more effective than the one in Scare Me. Overall, Ruben is doing much steadier work here; I think pulling himself out of both the cast and the writing credit turns it into less of a vanity project and lets him focus more on craft and tone control. I still don’t see him ever making a great or even very good film, but I’ll catch up with his recent Heart Eyes, which has the promise of a Christopher Landon script.

So it’s all a modest, slight, watchable horror comedy. Not exactly good, but never painful to sit through. It has a few fleeting moments of joy. And if that really makes the greatest video game movie of all time, so help us.

Is It Good?

Nearly Good (4/8)

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Dan is the founder and head critic of The Goods. Follow Dan on Letterboxd. Join the Discord for updates and discussion.