Werewolf Woman (Rino Di Silvestro, 1976)

Reprobates ruin everything. Whether you're a woman, a werewolf, or a werewolf woman, there always seems to be a reprobate lurking behind every door just waiting to squash your happiness. You would think that the werewolf woman at the centre of Werewolf Woman (a.k.a. La Lupa Mannara), a hit and miss piece of Italian mishegas about a statuesque blonde woman who thinks she's a statuesque blonde werewolf, killed a bunch a people, judging by the way she's treated in this movie. I don't mean to contradict you mid-spiel, but the woman in question, the statuesque blonde woman, does kill a bunch of people. And, if memory serves me correctly, she even stabs your favourite character in the neck with a pair of scissors. Oh, yeah. Well, so what? That doesn't mean she deserves to be violated every five seconds with whatever uncircumcised cocks are on hand. I wasn't implying that she deserved to be violated. I was just saying that she seemed to go out of her way to be, oh, let's say, difficult. I think we can all agree that the statuesque blonde woman who thinks she's a werewolf has issues. Some might say that her actions were totally justified; every non-stuntman she meets either wants to rape her or throw her in the loony bin. Oh, and, don't think things will be rape-free once she's locked up in a mental institution on the outskirts of a fever dream. I have twelve words for you:  Leggy hypersexualized bisexual lesbians who can't apply make-up to save their life. Others might say she went too far.
 

 

Personally, I land squarely somewhere in the middle. I thought her crushing of those two rapists with a scrapyard crane was the correct and rational course of action; and rather ingenious, if you ask me, as in, I like to see you coerce two rapists into the car your about to crush with a scrapyard crane. However, biting the neck of that "peasant girl" totally crossed the line. All she wanted to do was have regulation barnyard intercourse with her boyfriend, which you let her do. But you had to go and destroy her post-coital bliss with some impromptu neck biting. The consensual cum currently coagulating in her cunt will never be able to conceive a child now, you selfish, dream-wrecking hosebeast.
 

 

You might have noticed that I used the expression "hit and miss" to describe my overall feelings toward this Rino Di Silvestro-directed enterprise. Well, that's because some parts were awesome, while others were...not-so much. Don't hold back, spit it out. Okay, some parts were downright tedious. There, I said it. In fact, any scene that involved Tino Carraro, Frederick Stanford, and Elio Zamuto talking about Annik Borel's Daniela Neseri, a mentally unwell woman who goes insane whenever there's a full moon, was beyond dull. If think what you're trying to say is, any scene that didn't boast the lovely Annik Borel was beyond dull. Yeah, I guess that's another way of putting it.
 

 

I don't know what it is about the men in this movie, but they all seem to want to control Daniela (Annik Borel), a woman who thinks she's related to a werewolf woman from the 18th century. Her father, Count Nerseri (Tino Carraro) thinks she's mad, her doctor (Elio Zamuto) has this kooky theory that the moon is affecting her brain, and Inspector Modica (Frederick Stanford) simply wants to lock her up. Since when has it become a crime to run naked through woods? I know it was probably against the law in 1785, but this is the 1970s, baby; writhing naked underneath a tree is mandatory. 
 

 

We get a firsthand look at how important writhing naked in the vicinity of a tree is to a werewolf woman when the film opens with just that: lot's of naked dirt writhing. Starting off somewhere in 18th century Europe, Annik Borel plays a woman who isn't afraid to hurl her blonde pussy to and fro like an under-stuffed rag doll. Dancing naked in the middle of a flaming circle, the woman eventually grows hair and starts to howl at the moon. Interrupting her howling session are a group of  reactionaries in tri-cornered hats wielding torches and axes. When one of the reactionaries gets too close to where the hirsute woman is hiding, she bites him on the neck. Realizing that neck-biting is hard work, the woman finishes him off by axing him in the head; why bite when you can axe?
 

 

Ultimately caught by the mob, the werewolf woman is burnt at the stake. Just as her screams of agony were starting to pierce the night air, Daniela wakes up in a fright. Disturbed that her daughter is having nightmares about a long dead ancestor who may or may not have been a werewolf, her father consults a physician. The next morning everything things seem fine, as Daniela and her father are lounging by their pool. This scene gives us our first daytime look at Annik Borel's stunning frame, which is adorned with a skimpy black bikini. It's too bad their leggy maid had to come over and upstage her, because Annik had the audience eating out of the palm of her hand; no fooling, I felt like a goat at a petting zoo.
 

 

The reason the leggy maid, who I think was called Anna, intruded on Daniela's sunbathing was to tell them that her sister Elena (Dagmar Lassander) and her boyfriend Fabian are coming over tomorrow. And judging by the annoyed expression on her face when the news is delivered, Daniela is not looking forward to their visit. You think she's annoyed now. Wait until she finds out that her sister's boyfriend looks exactly like the guy her ancestor axed in the head back in the 18th century.
 

 

To call Daniela's demeanour around Elena, who's wearing a chic turquoise gown, cold and detached would be understatement. While Elena and Fabian have sex in the guest room, Daniela is giving herself a self-massage while wearing a diaphanous nightgown in the hallway. The cool thing about Daniela's nightgown, besides being diaphanous and junk, was the large the slit that allowed easy access to her thighs and vagina. And, of course, Daniela takes full advantage of this. Oh, and before she goes into the hallway to touch herself in an erotic manner, Daniela is visited by a ghost with bloody arms and is groped by a lizard. 
 

 

If you thought Daniela's diaphanous nightgown looked great in a hallway setting, you should see it out in the woods. Luring Fabian into the aforementioned woods with the lankiness of her naked body, Daniela bites him on the neck. Scratch that, "bites him on the neck" sounds to quaint. No, what Daniela does to Fabian was akin to a good old fashion throat ripping.

 

After dumping his body in a gully, Daniela is found unconscious in the woods. Covered with red splotches, Daniela wakes up in the hospital surrounded by doctors. Hey, doc. Maybe she wouldn't be covered with so many red splotches if you didn't insist on poking them, you glorified pervert. Actually, the doctor loses all his pervert cred when he casually dismisses the flirtatious advances of the crazed patient in the hall. It's obvious that the crazed patient in the hall has been camped out on that spot waiting for the good doctor to stroll on by. And when he does, finally stroll on by, that is, she whips out her right breast. Showing it to him with a sense of pride, the crazed patient in the hall asks the doctor, "Pretty nice, huh?" Gesturing toward her naked breast with the full force of her expressive eyebrows. As she is boasting about her realness, "I'm a real woman," the doctor tells to her to go bed.
 

 

To add insult to injury, the doctor says, "Breasts, legs, they're all the same to me. I'm a doctor." What the... I don't often use the h-word, but I fucking hate this guy. The manner in which the doctor ignored the crazed patient in the hall's advances depressed the hell out of me. I know, doctors aren't supposed to have sex with their patients. However, if you're doctor, and you happen to find yourself in a movie called "Werewolf Woman," you're totally allowed to have sex with your patients, especially if they're crazed and have a tendency to stand seductively in hospital hallways.
 

 

Growing increasingly inpatient with the whole being strapped to a hospital bed thing (her blonde pussy is aching to run free in the woods), Daniela starts to writhe and hurl insults at the staff; even her sister gets an earful when she attempts to pay a visit ("I hate you! You whore!"). 
 

 

You know what Daniela needs? She needs to feel the loving embrace that only the crazed patient in the hall can provide. Stalking the halls in a skimpy black negligee, the crazed patient, who has tried to make herself more pretty by applying make-up to her face (I'd give her impromptu make-up job four handjobs out of five), tiptoes toward Daniela's room. Entering gams first, the crazed patient can't believe her luck. Lying before her is probably the most glorious hunk of womanhood she has ever stumbled upon. Unsure where her groping focus should start, the crazed patient molests Daniela's body with a chaotic brand of impishness.
 

 

When Daniela bites the crazed patient's hand (like I said, her groping-sphere was erratic), the crazed patient begins the realize that maybe she's not the one who's crazed.
 

 

Now, I don't want to give away what happens next. But let's just say I was none too pleased. Anyway, Daniela escapes from the hospital, and hits the open road. Killing almost everyone she comes in contact with (rapists, random women), Daniela eventually settles down with a stuntman (Howard Ross), who is living in a house located on an abandoned western-themed movie set. How long will Daniela be able to resist the urge to rip out the throat of her new beau? Only time will tell. But like they say, once a werewolf woman, always a werewolf woman.
 

 

What I liked most about Werewolf Woman, besides Annik Borel's fearless and outre performance (she gives new meaning to the word gusto) and the killer soundtrack, was the fact that Daniela wasn't really a werewolf, or was she? Sure, she liked to bite people, but she managed to do so without the aide of fur or fangs. No, what Daniela represents is a new breed of woman; one that likes the outdoors and one that happens to enjoy tearing out throats. You could call the film a feminist allegory. But I won't be doing that. Why? Because I don't feel like it. If you were to edit out all the dull scenes that featured men discussing Daniela's condition, you would have a classic on your hands.
 

 

Oh, and if anyone knows the name of the actress who plays "the crazed patient in the hall," please, don't hesitate to let me know.

trailer uploaded by SuperDavidgc