The film suggests an unholy hybrid of the aesthetic indulgences of Michael Bay and the hyper-literalist plot construction of Christopher Nolan.

A teenager discovers his inner lycanthrope in David Hayter's horror film

Wolves is too violent to be a Twilight knockoff, and too cuddly to be an effectively freaky tale of a boy who, to paraphrase "Werewolf Bar Mitzvah," becomes a man while also becoming a wolf.

A fresh and feverish entry in the werewolf canon.

Once the “Twilight”-meets-“Sons of Anarchy” silliness kicks in, there’s a lovable lunacy at work.

Eschewing extensive CGI effects for actors growling and scampering around in old-school Lon Chaney Jr.-style fur-face and fangs, “Wolves” is pretty silly, though it never takes itself all that seriously.

Writer-director David Hayter revisits much-trod territory with wan results in "Wolves," a werewolf tale that quickly loses its initial bite.

Blame the jaw-dropping, laugh-out-loud but still hot werewolf sex scene. Who knew she-werewolves got their underwear ideas (boy cut) from "Sex and the City"? Embrace the high-end transformation effects, the inspired casting of Jason "Conan" Momoa as a were-villain. Cackle over the jokey-ironic tunes selected for the soundtrack -- "Bad Dog" (Gravelroad), "Big Bad Wolf"…