The Curse of the Werewolf is the Hammer studio's lone excursion into Wolfman territory, which is a shame. Werewolf is not a perfect film -- or even a perfect horror film -- and some genre purists won't find it to their liking, but many other will find it among the very finest werewolf films. One of the things that will divide people into pro or con camps is that Werewolf posits that lycanthropy is a disease of the soul, rather than the result of a random encounter with evil. Indeed, Werewolf is very much a morality play, albeit a bleak one in which the possibility of redemption is practically non-existent. Those who like their horror straight may find this rather heavy going, and not without justification, for Werewolf's questions of morality are used strictly in a manipulative sense, not as a means of seriously exploring the questions of good and evil. There's also a problem with changes in tone between the first and second half, a rushed feeling in the final third, and a constantly-changing cast of characters that causes some dramatic problems. That said, there's a haunting beauty in Werewolf; if all the moralism is superficial, it still imbues the tale with something poetic. In addition, the visuals are striking; while Hammer's trademark brilliant burgundy is in evidence, there's a more muted look to the proceedings that is quite effective. Most importantly, Werewolf is blessed with a very good cast. Oliver Reed is ferocious, tormented, sulky and brutal -- yet he also makes the character enormously sympathetic, so that the audience is forever on his side. It's an exceptional performance. Yvonne Romain is incredibly gorgeous, Clifford Evans and Hira Talfrey appropriately generous, and Anthony Dawson tremendously vile. Terence Fisher directs with his usual style and flair; if his pacing is off at times, he still creates great atmosphere and tension when required.
