WHERE IS THE LOVE FOR THE LOWLY WEREWOLF?

THE WEREWOLF MOVIE MAY BE A HORROR STAPLE, BUT the sad reality is that compared with vampires, our furry, fanged friends lag in popularity by a moonlit country mile. Werewolves don’t ignite the erotic imagination like vampires do; voraciousness isn’t as sexy as neck-biting.

But there’s still poetry to be found in the written and directed by English filmmaker Sean Ellis, isn’t a werewolf picture in the strict sense: there’s nothing shaggy or wolflike about the beasts in question. But they are, as the title suggests, beings brought to life by a deadly bite, their unearthly cravings an affliction foisted upon them by an unnamed ancient spirit. Set somewhere in 19th century France, this is a movie low on cheap jump scares and high on atmosphere; its polished gloominess is one of its chief attributes, situating you in a time and place where you don’t feel quite right in your own skin.