The story involves the Beast of Gevaudan, which in 1764, terrorized a remote district of France, killing more than 60 women and children and tearing out their hearts and vitals. I borrow these facts from Patrick Meyers of the UnexplainedSite.com, who reveals that the Beast was finally found to be a wolf. Believe me, this information does not even come close to giving away the ending of the movie.
Directed by Christophe Gans, "The Brotherhood of the Wolf" is couched in historical terms. It begins in 1794, at the time of the French Revolution, when its narrator (Jacques Paren), about to be carried away to the guillotine, puts the finishing touches on a journal revealing at last the true story of the Beast. Although a wolf was killed and presented to the court of the king, that was only a cover-up, he says, as we flash back to ...
I would be lying if I did not admit that this is all, in its absurd and overheated way, entertaining. Once you realize that this is basically a high-gloss werewolf movie (but without a werewolf), crossed with a historical romance, a swashbuckler and a martial arts extravaganza, you can relax. There is of course a deeper political message (this movie is nothing if not inclusive), and vague foreshadowings of fascism and survivalist cults, but the movie uses its politics only as a plot convenience.
To paraphrase Terence Rafferty's review of The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, Gans is a filmmaker who chews with his mouth open; you can identify every piece of art that has fed his imagination. The plot jumps off from a real incident from 18th-century provincial France, when the so-called Beast of Gevuadan killed more than 100 people for reasons that still aren't known. The press notes promise "an enthralling tale?which might finally explain what actually happened over 200 years ago," but I see no reason for historians to bring a notepad. According to Gans, who cowrote the screenplay with Stephan Cabel, the beast was a razor-backed wolf demon (beautifully designed by Jim Henson's creature shop) that sprung from a combination of religious hysteria, sexual tension and political conspiracy. (In case you care about surprises, I won't say exactly how these three factors intersect.) Killing the beast requires the services of French adventurer Gregoire de Fronsac (le Behan), who just returned from the Americas, and his strong, silent Native American sidekick Mani (Dacascos), who can mystically communicate with the land and appears to have spent a lot of time in the 20th century studying with Bruce Lee. (Dacascos' big, serene eyes are the best special effect in the movie. He's a fascinating young actor who can probably do a lot more than kick people in the face; the way Hollywood works, he'll probably never be asked to prove it.)
A group of men on horseback and on foot are out hunting for the wolf beast that is terrorizing their town. Packs of wolves run away from the men in the countryside as they shoot at the wolves. Several wolves are shot, and one that is hit is flung into the air from the force of the bullet. It squeals and comes back down to the ground in slow motion.
A dead wolf lies on a crude examining table while a man slices it open with an operating tool. The man pries open the wolf's mouth and touches its tongue. He proceeds to stuff the wolf with a straw-like substance.
Several scenes throughout the film depict a lone white wolf staring out from a cave or on a hill. In one scene, a woman tries to shoot at the wolf, but a man diverts her gun. Packs of wolves running in the countryside appear in several scenes.
A dog barks and runs on the countryside, drawing attention to the lamb that is stuck in a steep ravine. The dog's owner climbs down to rescue the lamb, which is baa-ing, and takes it in her arms to carry back up the hill. When the wolf beast comes to get her, she drops the lamb, while the worried dog continues to bark. It eventually runs away.
Brotherhood of the Wolf is set in the year 1764 (other than framing scenes set during the revolution) in the picturesque region of Gevaudan in France, where a series of brutal killings terrorizes the local population. A mysterious and deadly creature, resembling a giant wolf, is believed to be responsible for the carnage. As panic spreads, the king sends the renowned naturalist and taxidermist, Grégoire de Fronsac (Samuel Le Bihan), to investigate and eliminate the beast.
Eventually Fronsac deduces that the beast itself is not a wolf, as the locals believe, and may not even be the most important thing. The beast is someone's weapon, and he and Mani infiltrate a mysterious lodge in the heart of the countryside that appears to hold more than one secret about the monster's origins. What it is, or who controls it, I will not say, of course, but it goes without saying that Fronsac and Mani eventually go head-to-head with it in a fight that is as eye-popping and elaborate as it is implausibly silly. I always have to ask myself how they managed to fabricate all those traps and battlements with nothing more than whatever was lying around, all on the night before.
According to legend, Romulus and his twin brother Remus were raised by a wolf, and as a result, they were said to be half wolf and half human. In tribute to this, the Followers' attire included a skinned wolf pelt.[2]
The Followers of Romulus were powerfully-built, brutish men covered in wolfskin pelts who would attack in vicious ambushes, hiding above or in tunnels before springing onto their prey in large numbers. The Followers were also adept free-runners, as the lairs that they occupied required such skills to traverse them.[3]
They were armed with various short blades and throwing knives, and tended to growl, snarl, and imitate wolf howls in combat. Being quite athletic, they commonly employed a unique spinning slash attack which few opponents could replicate aside from the Italian Assassin Ezio Auditore da Firenze with his Hidden Blades.[3]
The Followers occupied seven underground lairs, which could be found beneath famous landmarks in Rome. The lairs could be accessed through locked grates hung with a wolf's skull, or through ladders hidden beneath circular trapdoors.[3]
In the non-canonical mobile adaptation of Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood, the Followers of Romulus are known only as Wolfmen. Though the game's events parallel that of the canonical version, they are all set in 1486, and Ezio's first mission after the Siege of Monteriggioni is to kill the Wolfmen's leader at the Colosseum and rescue the abducted Claudio to earn the trust of the Assassins in Rome. All the Wolfmen aside from the leader, "Romulus", are actually dressed as regular guards, with only Romulus in the cult's typical wolf costume. When Romulus climbs down a ladder to confront Ezio at a lower level of the Colosseum, the Assassin immediately performs a kick-flip to knock him towards a rack of spears. Romulus dies when his body falls directly on top of the spears, though not before being dealt a mortal blow by another Assassin with a heavy axe while in mid-air.
What sticks with me as an Nth-wave Covid sufferer, for instance, is the sequence where the King's master of arms arrives in Gévaudan to settle the problem of the beast once and for all. Fronsac's earnest ongoing inquiry is pushed aside; the master of arms is there to kill a wolf, any wolf, and when he gets one, he orders the Royal Naturalist to taxidermically enhance it into a beast suitable for presenting to the Court. It is time to get back to normal, by fiat, and any future maulings in Gévaudan simply won't count. (Most of this subplot, I think, belongs to the director's cut, and may not have been in the version I originally saw.)
Era- and nationality-bound though the movie is\u2014it's hard to imagine an American film circa 2023 successfully putting over the probl\u00E9matique casting of Dacascos, an Asian/Pacific American actor, as Mani, the protagonist's kung-fu fighting Iroquois comrade\u2014there was something oddly, maybe accidentally, contemporary about watching it now. On top of all the other genres in the mix, the setup is basically a police procedural: The Chevalier Gr\u00E9goire de Fronsac (Samuel Le Bihan), Royal Naturalist to the Court of Louis XV, has been sent to the County of G\u00E9vaudan to investigate a series of slayings, reputedly the work of some mysterious wolflike beast. As he and Mani take evidence from the crime scenes and interact with the locals, it becomes clear that there are hidden schemes afoot, dueling disinformation campaigns, the contagion of fear, a conspiracy between elites and a feral population of deplorables...It felt like a set of allusions to events, or just vibes, that hadn't even manifested back in 2001.
What sticks with me as an Nth-wave Covid sufferer, for instance, is the sequence where the King's master of arms arrives in G\u00E9vaudan to settle the problem of the beast once and for all. Fronsac's earnest ongoing inquiry is pushed aside; the master of arms is there to kill a wolf, any wolf, and when he gets one, he orders the Royal Naturalist to taxidermically enhance it into a beast suitable for presenting to the Court. It is time to get back to normal, by fiat, and any future maulings in G\u00E9vaudan simply won't count. (Most of this subplot, I think, belongs to the director's cut, and may not have been in the version I originally saw.)
Also, practically speaking, I'm not sure how a showdown with [cross-referencing Wikipedia pages] Clement XIII could have been wedged into the plot. There's not a lot of downtime, as is, in the two-and-a-half hours of the director's cut (compare the nearly three hours of petty family squabbling in the most recent James Bond, No Time to Die, known around here as No Time to Pee). We haven't even really talked about the pathetic, possibly colonialism-metaphorical figure of the Beast proper, or the bizarrely inconclusive story of the real-life Beast of G\u00E9vaudan, or\u2014well, what else comes to mind before we wrap this up? What other ripe textual elements came spilling out of this cinematic cornucopia at you? Did you know that, per Wikipedia's List of popes, Clement XIII \\\"[p]rovided the famous fig leaves on nude male statues in the Vatican\\\"? Presumably Le Pacte des Loups would have knocked him right out of his little red shoes. Now that the fig leaves are provided by the corporate imperatives of franchise Hollywood, backed by smut-policing post-Tumblr youth, will we ever see this kind of howlingly wolfish entertainment again?
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