After a relatively sparse decade of werewolf cinema, the early 2000s unleashed a new wave of fur, fangs and bone-breaking transformations. Ginger Snaps was ahead of the curve, especially considering how it approached the same old ideas but in a fresh way. Nevertheless, Dog Soldiers was also bracing and innovative; Neil Marshall delivered a high-concept actioner bristling with colorful characters, entertaining melee, and, of course, ferocious lycans so dissimilar from prior celluloid renderings. While not exactly the first of its kind —  Full Eclipse crossed genres back in the ’90s — Dog Soldiers did lead this sudden charge of hyper-violent and stylized werewolf films.

In spite of the saturation of American werewolves, these creatures can go wherever storytellers please. Marshall, perhaps inspired by England’s enduring Beast of Bodmin legend, created vague fakelore for his film’s scenic setting; the tranquil Scottish Highlands were really the hunting grounds for an old family of uncanny predators. Folks would more likely expect to see Nessie in a Highlands-set creature-feature than werewolves, which is why Dog Soldiers is a bit brilliant. In a sense it is like Predator, another film where gun-toting soldier types come across a fierce monster existing in an unlikely habitat.

Dog Soldiers straddles the fence between comedy and horror, but it is more slyly offbeat than outright smug. That odd wit is visible from the start as an amorous pair of campers is coitus-interrupted in the worst way imaginable; the pants-tent zipper gag seen in the cold open is equally amusing and thrilling. This first death signals the film’s escalating sense of gallows humor. Once beyond a dead-serious dog killing toward the beginning — an act devastating for both those animal lovers watching and the story’s protagonist — Marshall resumes funny business without sacrificing tension. That inclination for action antics and quipping, however, was absent in the director’s even more harrowing follow-up, The Descent.

Image: In Dog Soldiers, Captain Ryan finally succumbs to his inner beast.

Other genre films can get by without interesting characters, but Dog Soldiers would have had a hard time being as memorable and beloved as it is without the likes of Cooper, Wells and Spoon on the frontline. This ragtag squad of six soldiers on a training exercise could have easily been run-of-the-mill and underwritten had Marshall chosen to focus on the action and werewolves. Quite the opposite, he did a bang-up job of making these uniformly dressed and styled men distinguishable and, most importantly, worth caring about. 

Not everyone will have warm fuzzies for the film’s obvious military narrative, but Marshall put some much needed meat on the story’s bones. This is not just a simple case of soldier boys battling werewolves. On the contrary, the story gives its audience serious food for thought as Cooper — played perfectly by Kevin McKidd after Jason Statham backed out in favor of Ghosts of Mars — sees things differently following that dog incident. Had Cooper obeyed orders from his near-miss captain (Liam Cunningham), viewers would have never been endeared to him. Trusted him. Instead, that moment of noncompliance drew a clear line in the sand and Dog Soldiers waged war on harmful forms of masculinity.

Even as the film flies into its siege scenario, Marshall stays on the characters. The uncaring and selfish Captain Ryan, the sole survivor of that now-extinct special forces unit Cooper failed out of, has since joined the core cast. All but twirling his invisible villain mustache as everyone else struggles to keep the werewolves at bay, Ryan only emphasizes how much better off Cooper is with his original team. Unlike the alternative, Sergeant Wells (Sean Pertwee) and his men give a damn about one another. They fight tooth and nail to protect their own and others, and no fallen soldier goes unnoticed. They feel free to be vulnerable. That kind of shrewd upset of gender expectations is refreshing for a film overrun with male aggression and open displays of machismo.

The biggest hurdle when making any werewolf film is the werewolves themselves. Marshall could not have chosen a more challenging creature for his first feature, but fans would say that ambition paid off in the end. With a decent budget of around £2.3 million, though, Dog Soldiers had a far better chance of succeeding than others. Even so, the design of these particular beasts can make or break the whole deal. Here the werewolves are peculiar and quite unlike previous specimens. As opposed to the typical on-screen depictions, Marshall’s breed is eerily graceful as well as intimidating. For once, that standard full coverage of fur is absent; only the heads, which are awfully oversized and wolfish, give away the identity of these popular monsters. More wulver-esque than not, this interpretation is downright haunting.

Image: Cooper and the other soldiers in Dog Soldiers.

With action editing as rapidfire as the characters’ armaments, Dog Soldiers can be tricky to follow at times. However, the film also does not disappoint in the combat department. In what actor Pertwee once described as “Zulu with werewolves,” the final act erupts into a sanguinary symphony of violence. The grainy and shadow-heavy presentation risks hiding that beautiful carnage — the recent 4K restoration remedies that potential issue — which, ultimately, is what separates the film from the pack.  The insatiable turnskins, who are portrayed by dancers and never a product of VFX, are not the mindless killing machines of the past. No, these hairy assassins are weirdly elegant even as they slaughter half the cast. Overall the fracas is skillfully put together, not slapdash. The only thing missing is an agonizing, attention-seizing transformation. The suits ate up a good chunk of the budget, so Marshall resorted to an off-screen sequence in the vein of The Curse of the Werewolf. This entailed the use of suspenseful cutaway and hinged on the reactions of the other characters.

Another appeal of Dog Soldiers is its timelessness. The film’s vintage is apparent to the modern eye, yet the story’s timestamp is nonspecific. There is nothing seasonable about the setting or themes — the low-key study of toxic masculinity fits into any era — and the military presence is also evergreen. The fairytale element adds rather than takes away; the men and Emma Cleasby’s character being lured into a “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” situation never gets old, either. All in all, there is an unfading quality to Marshall’s first outing that makes it watchable at any given point of time.

The incredible highs of werewolf horror make up for the many, many lows. And after twenty-plus years, Dog Soldiers remains a benchmark. When this film first burst onto the scene, there was nothing like it at that point in the werewolf genre; rather than succumbing to the hirsute howlers who wished them dead, the prey fought back using both their natural wits and special training. It was a simple pitch done remarkably well. This one film certainly raised the bar for future werewolf horrors, although none come close to matching its unique bite force.

Horrors Elsewhere is a recurring column that spotlights a variety of movies from all around the globe, particularly those not from the United States. Fears may not be universal, but one thing is for sure — a scream is understood, always and everywhere.

Image: A Dog Soldiers poster.