My Animal Review: A Queer Werewolf Tale With Style To Spare [Sundance]

The werewolf — the idea that a human being can suddenly transform into a savage beast — has fascinated people for centuries, from folklore and mythology to books and, of course, films. The movies have always loved a good werewolf tale, be it "The Wolf Man," "An American Werewolf in London," "Ginger Snaps," or, uh, "Teen Wolf." "My Animal" is the latest entry in the never-ending subgenre, and it's not your typical lycanthrope flick. A moody slow burn loaded with style and a killer score, "My Animal" is a queer werewolf tale using the idea of the werewolf to symbolize its lead character's inner struggles. In other words, don't expect a ton of cool transformation scenes where someone suddenly grows fur and sprouts fangs. 

Heather, played by Bobbi Salvör Menuez, is a young woman who also happens to turn into a wolf when the moon is full and the clock strikes midnight. She's not the only werewolf in her family — the curse was passed down from her father (a surprisingly warm Stephen McHattie; I'm so used to seeing him play villains). Heather's twin brothers are also werewolves. Her mother appears to be the only non-wolf in the family, and she struggles with all of this by drinking herself into a stupor. 

Heather, who loves to play hockey in her spare time (she's Canadian; I'm pretty sure it's a law that she has to like hockey), also happens to be gay, and she suddenly finds herself drawn to Johnny (Amandla Stenberg), a figure skater who seems to take to Heather instantly. The two become fast friends and there's a fun, filthy energy between Menuez and Stenberg. But Johnny doesn't think of herself as queer, and the closer Heathe draws to her, the more Johnny draws away. 

Director Jacqueline Castel renders all of this with a keen eye for mood and style. Cinematographer Bryn McCashin washes the film in blood-red lighting and deep, dark shadows — while avoiding making what's up on screen incomprehensible. We can see through the gloom thanks to beams of cold light that cut through all that dark. The snowy climate invokes a coldness in the viewer that matches the film's slow, deliberate pacing. Through it all, Augustus Muller's synth-based score gives the entire endeavor an appropriately John Carpenter-esque vibe that heightens the tension.

All of this is quite good, as is Menuez, who brings a deep sadness mixed with plucky confidence to the part. But the script, penned by Jae Matthews, is oddly flat. The premise is sound, as is the idea of grafting a queer narrative onto a werewolf feature. But after the initial set-up, "My Animal" runs out of road. Scenes grow repetitive, and a conflict that arises between Heather and Johnny's boyfriend, a real d-bag named Rick (Cory Lipman), comes across as bland and predictable. And the relationship between Heather and Johnny, the central element to this whole story, is never as fully formed as it could be.

Ultimately, the film's style is what elevates it. Every frame is either haunting or gorgeous or sometimes both. It signals that Castel knows exactly what she's doing here, even if the script she's working with can't quite match her talents. "My Animal" doesn't break the werewolf movie mold, but it has enough bite to howl about. 

/Film Rating: 6 out of 10