When I heard about the latest version of the Wolfman, I could not resist; so, having devoured an undoubtedly insalubrious Doner Kebab stuffed with salad and garlic mayonnaise earlier, I motored into Town and parked at the usual place in Marcus Ward Street.
The seating at the Moviehouse Cinema is comfortable and even reclines like a kind of rocking-chair, though it is quite narrow (as on cattle-class in an aircraft). Still, if one can spread out with the elbows on each arm of the seat, it's fine.
Lycanthropy is, indeed, a terrible affliction. Ask Sir Anthony Hopkins, CBE - or Sir John Talbot - the senior werewolf, as he was in the movie. He "infected" his son, Lawrence, with the condition; so this was the theme of the film, along with a modicum of romance for good measure, in the form of the tasty Emily Blunt.
The special effects, with all the blood and guts - not to say an abundance of mutilations - were tip-top and state-of-the-art; transformation from human to werewolf clearly evident for we, the voyeurs watching the proceedings. It was reasonably atmospheric, particularly Sir John's ancestral pile, Talbot Manor. Incidentally, the Manor was really Chatsworth House in Derbyshire!
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