Reviewed by

Christopher Armstead

Chances are you’ve never heard of David DeCoteau.  If you have, then go to the head of the class because brother, you are a bad movie watching cat from way back.  I got my first VCR back in 1986.  The family had one long before, but I was just out of high school, had a little job, and caught a sale on Fisher VCR’s for the amazing price of 250 bucks.  Amazing.  Now I can watch my own, er... movies in peace.  Next I needed a video store membership.  Done.  Now I need some movies.  Much like today, I was looking for movies with a different slant, and the low-bud horror was thing was really picking up back then, so that’s what I went after.  Movies like Creepazoids, Nightmare Sisters, Lady Avenger… The one thing me and my cousin, who usually watched this dreck with me, had noticed was that there was usually one name associated with these flicks, and it was David DeCoteau.  One Krazy Canuck who has been making some of the worst movies on record for the last quarter century.  I love this guy.

Eventually my movie tastes matured.  Either that, or someone told me that a large number of Mr. DeCoteau’s film drip with homoerotic imagery.  Whatever the reason, the name David DeCoteau drifted from my movie watching lexicon.  That was until I ran across ‘Wolves of Wallstreet’ Directed by Mr. DeCoteau and starring no less a movie icon than Eric Roberts.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I don’t even have to watch this to know that we have a winner.

Jeff Allen (William Gregory Lee) wants to be a Wall Street stockbroker in the worst way.  He comes from some Podunk Midwest state ending a vowel with the intention of doing just that.  Nobody, however, wants to hire the young buck.  He stumbles into

a bar and meets the lovely auburn haired Annabella (Elisa Donovan) who spurns his advances mainly because her late husband was a stockbroker, and she’s convinced it killed him, but has no problem giving our hero a hot lead for a brokerage firm.  The firm, Wolfe Brothers or something, is run by Dyson Keller (Roberts) and they drone on and on about being part of the pack, devouring your opponent, ripping the heart from your prey and a bunch of other wolf style predatory references.  Young Jeff meets the strict criteria for being a broker for these guys, which apparently consists of being good-looking and wearing nice clothes, that accelerates him from trainee to broker in no time flat.  But if you really want to be down with this pack, you have to take it to next level.  So some dude bites Jeff during a nighttime meeting and now he’s werewolf.  I guess.  You see, nobody actually turns into a werewolf in this thing.  No fancy ‘Howling’ style transformations or even some basic ‘Lon Chaney’ hairy face changing.  Nothing.  Hairy knuckles?  Nothing.  Just a bunch of gnarled fingers and twisted faces.  It was pretty funny actually.

Now here’s the real problem with this movie, other than the fact it sucked.  It’s just not trashy enough!  My God man!  You know what you have here!  Trash it up!  There are scenes in the flick that simply beg for gratuitous nudity, or unnecessary blood splatter.  One scene has Jeffie’s mentor schooling him on how irresistible the opposite sex are to the wolves, so he calls over some hottie with a phenomenal figure in a tight red dress.  She seductively slips off the dress to reveal… her bra.  End of Scene.  David, if Naomi Watts and Kathy Bates can show their breast on film, then surely you can find some unknown actresses who will do it to.  Blood, breasts and more blood.  It’s what we expect from these kinds of movies.  Not the allegorical references of the wild and how it relates to modern day business.  That’s what Oliver Stone is for my friend.  There’s also a scene of four fit dudes in their black jockeys crawling on the floor towards a bevy beauties in heat.  No breast, but some beefcake there.  I’m thinking that there is some of that homoerotic imagery those folks were talking about earlier.  I’m not one to say.

The Wolves of Wall street is a disappointment on so many levels, I don’t know where to begin.  Somebody give me a video camera and a stack of release forms, and I’ll show you how to make a trashy movie!


Real Time Web