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It’s an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink flick, is Brotherhood of the Wolf — director Christophe Gans and his co-screenwriter Stephane Cabel are clearly fans of American television, of Hollywood films, of Hong Kong martial arts, of classic pulp literature, and they throw a bit of it all into this horror-action-costume drama. And damn if it doesn’t work.
Did I say what a tremendous impact this film had on me? I remember the first time I saw it, during its initial release, at a sold-out late-night showing, not a child in sight, and I was not the only adult sniffling back tears of joy, thunderstruck by the sheer wonderfulness of this movie. And that feeling came rushing back, times ten, when I saw the film again in IMAX.
If you’re like me, then you probably just can’t stand the crap that passes for “entertainment for men.” You know, the kind of sappy, melodramatic junk that Lifetime for Men airs: movies about soccer dads in jeopardy, usually called things like Oh Dear God No Not My Baby!, horrible, trite stories about dads who triumph over a cold, harsh, unsympathetic world, and become better people and — more importantly — better dads in the process.
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