Fangs Beneath the Fairy Tale: The Company of Wolves vs The Howling

In the shadowed thickets of 1980s horror, two films unleash lupine fury through enchanted narratives—one bites with gothic whimsy, the other with satirical savagery.

Amid the werewolf renaissance of early 1980s cinema, Neil Jordan’s The Company of Wolves (1984) and Joe Dante’s The Howling (1981) stand as twin pillars of fairy tale-infused terror. Both draw from ancient folklore to reimagine the beast within, yet they diverge sharply in tone, structure, and intent. Jordan crafts a labyrinthine dreamscape rooted in Angela Carter’s literary provocations, while Dante skewers modern society through a colony of shape-shifters. This comparison unearths their shared mythic DNA and profound contrasts, revealing how fairy tales evolved into visceral horror.

• Both films reinvent werewolf lore via nested fairy tales, blending folklore with contemporary anxieties about sexuality and community.
• The Company of Wolves prioritises poetic surrealism and feminist subversion, contrasting The Howling‘s blend of gore, comedy, and media critique.
• Their legacies endure, influencing everything from arthouse fantasies to blockbuster franchises, while cementing the 1980s as a golden age for lycanthropic cinema.

Enchanted Origins: Nested Nightmares Unveiled

The narrative heart of both films pulses with fairy tale architecture, employing stories-within-stories to layer dread. The Company of Wolves, adapted from Carter’s The Bloody Chamber collection, unfolds in the fevered dreams of young Rosaleen (Sarah Patterson), a girl on the cusp of womanhood. As her grandmother (Angela Lansbury) spins cautionary yarns around the fire—tales of huntsmen turned wolves, faithless brides devoured in the night—reality frays into nightmare. Rosaleen’s own woodland encounter with a charming stranger (Stephen Rea) blurs innocence and carnality, culminating in a transformation sequence where practical effects by Christopher Tucker morph her into a snarling beast amid crumbling church ruins. The film’s synopsis demands immersion: each vignette escalates the peril, from a village priest’s lycanthropic curse to a lavish banquet where wolves crash the party, their elongated snouts and glowing eyes rendered with meticulous prosthetics.

In stark counterpoint, The Howling transplants lupine legend to California’s sun-drenched coast. Television anchor Karen White (Dee Wallace) survives a traumatic encounter with serial killer Eddie Quist (Robert Picardo), only to retreat to the idyllic colony of The Colony, a self-help haven run by Dr. George Waggner (Patrick Macnee). What begins as therapy unravels into revelation: the residents are werewolves, sustaining a fragile coexistence with humanity. Directed with kinetic energy, the plot hurtles through graphic kills—a bartender’s mid-transformation evisceration, Karen’s climactic beachside showdown—bolstered by Rob Bottin’s groundbreaking effects, including full-body suits that pulse with musculature. Nested tales emerge via flashbacks and TV broadcasts parodying self-help culture, echoing Little Red Riding Hood through Karen’s naive venture into the wolves’ den.

These synopses highlight a core divergence: Jordan’s film is a tapestry of oral tradition, where folklore accretes like moss on ancient trees, evoking the Brothers Grimm’s moral ambiguities. Dante, conversely, structures his yarn as a thriller with horror-comedy beats, accelerating towards explosive catharsis. Production histories underscore this—Company shot on fog-shrouded Irish sets to capture ethereal menace, while Howling leveraged Hollywood backlots for satirical bite, its $6.5 million budget yielding visceral spectacle unseen since An American Werewolf in London.

Folklore Reborn: From Grimm to Gore

Fairy tale DNA binds the duo, yet each mutates the source material uniquely. Carter’s influence permeates The Company of Wolves, transforming Red Riding Hood into a parable of female awakening. Rosaleen’s tales subvert patriarchal warnings—hunters beware the wolf’s honeyed words, brides wield knives against suitors’ deceptions—infusing horror with erotic agency. Jordan’s script, co-written with Carter, amplifies this through lush visuals: crimson cloaks against verdant forests, symbolising bloodlines and menstrual rites. The film’s werewolf mythos shuns silver bullets for psychological surrender, where the full moon merely catalyses inner beasts.

The Howling nods to Grimm via its colony’s communal hunts, but Gary Brandner’s source novel inspires a modern twist: werewolves as enlightened outcasts, practising yoga to control urges. Dante amplifies the satire, with bookshop owner Marcia (Elizabeth Gracen) quoting occult texts amid orgiastic rites, parodying 1970s counterculture. Fairy tale echoes abound—the Big Bad Wolf as charismatic cult leader, the woodcutter as Karen’s gunslinging colleague Sam (Dennis Dugan)—but Dante injects meta-commentary, from TV parodies of Playboy centrefolds to newsreels exposing the hoax of werewolf restraint.

Historically, both tap a post-Wolfen (1981) surge in lycanthropy, yet Jordan anchors in European Romanticism—Mary Shelley’s gothic shadows, E.T.A. Hoffmann’s dream logic—while Dante channels American pulp, from Curt Siodmak’s The Wolf Man to EC Comics’ gallows humour. This transatlantic schism enriches their comparison: one a continental reverie, the other a Yankee rampage.

Beasts of Burden: Gender and the Monstrous Feminine

Central to both is the female protagonist’s confrontation with lupine masculinity, probing sexuality’s savage underbelly. Rosaleen embodies Barbara Creed’s ‘monstrous-feminine’, her transformation not victimhood but empowerment—emerging from wolf form nude and unashamed, reclaiming the gaze. Lansbury’s Granny warns of men’s duplicity, yet the film critiques female complicity, as Rosaleen’s curiosity invites the bite. Jordan’s lens lingers on pubescent vulnerability, with Patterson’s wide-eyed performance underscoring the peril of desire.

Karen White’s arc mirrors this, her trauma catalysing change: post-attack, she grapples with erotic flashbacks to Eddie’s leer, culminating in her voluntary howl on live TV. Wallace’s raw portrayal—shrieking, convulsing—elevates the body horror, Bottin’s animatronics rendering her hybrid form a grotesque apotheosis. Dante flips fairy tale passivity; Karen wields a handgun, exploding the wolf within, asserting agency absent in traditional tales.

These portrayals interrogate 1980s gender politics: Company‘s feminism via Carter’s postmodern lens, challenging virgin/whore binaries; Howling‘s via horror-comedy, lampooning male fragility (Erle Kenton’s bumbling pack). Both films, amid Reagan-era conservatism, liberate the she-wolf from victim trope.

Moonlit Mastery: Visual and Sonic Sorcery

Cinematography distinguishes their terrors. Jordan’s Bryan Loftus bathes Company in George A. Romero’s misty palettes—ethereal blues, fiery oranges—framing transformations in wide shots that dwarf humans against primordial woods. Practical effects shine: Rea’s wolf-man suit stretches sinews realistically, Tucker’s animatronics puppeteering packs with uncanny fluidity.

Dante’s John Hora employs vibrant primaries, contrasting Colony’s pastel facades with crimson splatter. Bottin’s tour de force—a werewolf’s jaw unhinging in real-time, veins throbbing—revolutionised effects, rivalled only by Rick Baker’s London work. Dante’s Steadicam prowls kills with kinetic frenzy, heightening claustrophobia.

Sound design amplifies: Company‘s George Fenton score weaves harp laments with wolf howls, diegetic snaps of bone echoing fairy tale menace. Howling‘s Pino Donaggio layers synth stabs over transformation growls, Pino’s wolf cries (recorded from real animals) blending seamlessly with Foley for immersive savagery.

Cult Colonies: Societal Satire and Isolation

The Howling excels in skewering communal delusions—The Colony as Jonestown for lycans, Waggner’s therapy masking predation. Dante critiques media sensationalism; Karen’s broadcast exposes the farce, echoing Watergate-era distrust. Company, less satirical, evokes rural insularity, villages purging outsiders in witch-hunt parables.

Both probe otherness: werewolves as metaphors for AIDS-era fears (uncontainable contagion) or economic divides (rural poor vs urban elite). Their 1980s context—post-Vietnam paranoia, yuppie ascent—fuels these undercurrents.

Eternal Packs: Influence and Echoes

Legacies howl on: Howling spawned seven sequels, inspiring Ginger Snaps‘s she-wolf puberty; Company influenced The Witch‘s folk-horror. Together, they bridged Hammer’s gothic to moderns like The VVitch, proving fairy tales’ horror potency.

Reception diverged—Howling a box-office hit ($17.7m), Company a cult gem—yet both endure for reinventing the werewolf sans silver.

Director in the Spotlight

Neil Patrick Jordan, born 25 February 1952 in Sligo, Ireland, emerged as a literary force before cinema claimed him. Educated at University College Dublin, he penned novels like The Past (1979) and poetry collections, drawing from Irish mythology and Catholic guilt. Transitioning to screenwriting, his script for The Courier (1988) honed taut thrillers, but Angel (1982)—a punk-infused noir about a guitarist turned assassin—marked his directorial debut, securing BAFTA nominations.

The Company of Wolves (1984) propelled him internationally, blending Carter’s feminism with visual poetry, earning BAFTA nods for costume and makeup. Jordan’s oeuvre spans genres: Mona Lisa (1986) reunited Bob Hoskins with Melanie Griffith in a seedy underworld romance, winning him the Best Director prize at Cannes. The Crying Game (1992) exploded with its IRA-transgender twist, netting six Oscar nods including Best Director, cementing his provocateur status.

Hollywood beckoned with Interview with the Vampire (1994), a lavish adaptation starring Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, grossing $223m despite purist backlash. Subsequent works include Michael Collins (1996), a biopic of the Irish revolutionary earning Liam Neeson an Oscar nod; The Butcher Boy (1997), a black comedy from Patrick McCabe’s novel; and The End of the Affair (1999), a Graham Greene adaptation with Ralph Fiennes and Julianne Moore.

Into the 2000s, Jordan directed The Good Thief (2002), a Riviera heist homage to Jean-Pierre Melville; Breakfast on Pluto (2005), Cillian Murphy’s drag queen odyssey through Troubles-era Ireland; and Ondine (2009), a modern selkie myth. Television ventures like The Borgias (2011-2013) showcased his epic scope, while Byzantium (2012) reunited him with vampire lore via Gemma Arterton and Saoirse Ronan. Recent films—The Lobster script (2015, uncredited influence), Greta (2018) thriller, The Last Days of American Crime (2020)—affirm his versatility. Influences span Hitchcock, Powell, and Buñuel; Jordan’s Catholicism infuses moral ambiguity, his Irish roots ground mythic storytelling. Knighted in 2021, he remains a shape-shifter in cinema.

Comprehensive filmography: Angel (1982, dir./write); The Company of Wolves (1984, dir./write); Mona Lisa (1986, dir./write); High Spirits (1988, dir.); We’re No Angels (1989, dir.); The Crying Game (1992, dir./write); Interview with the Vampire (1994, dir.); Michael Collins (1996, dir./write); The Butcher Boy (1997, dir./prod.); The End of the Affair (1999, dir./write); Not I (2000, dir.); The Good Thief (2002, dir./write); Intermission (2003, prod.); Breakfast on Pluto (2005, dir./write); The Brave One (2007, dir.); Ondine (2009, dir./write); The Guard (2011, prod.); Byzantium (2012, dir./write); The Borgias (2011-13, create/dir.); Greta (2018, dir.); Lush (TBA).

Actor in the Spotlight

Angela Brigid Lansbury, born 16 October 1925 in London to Irish actress Moyna Macgill and politician Edgar Lansbury, epitomised versatility across stage, screen, and television. Evacuated to New York during the Blitz, she trained at the Feagin School of Drama, debuting on Broadway in Hotel Paradiso (1957). Her film breakthrough came with Gaslight (1944), earning a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination at 18 for her scheming maid. MGM stardom followed: National Velvet (1944) opposite Elizabeth Taylor, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945) as music-hall siren Sibyl Vane.

The 1950s-60s showcased range—The Manchurian Candidate (1962) as Raymond Shaw’s domineering mother, netting another Oscar nod; The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) as Claudia. Theatre triumphs included Olivier’s A Little Night Music (1973), originating Madame Armfeldt on Broadway and earning a Tony. Global fame arrived with Murder, She Wrote (1984-1996), playing Jessica Fletcher, the sleuthing author, amassing four Golden Globes and an Emmy nod.

In The Company of Wolves, Lansbury’s Granny weaves wicked tales with twinkling menace, her folksy warmth masking warnings of carnal peril—a pivotal, award-buzzy turn. Later highlights: Beauty and the Beast (1991, voice of Mrs Potts, Oscar-nominated song); Anastasia (1997, Dowager Empress); stage revivals like Blithe Spirit (2009, Tony winner). Awards tally: six Golden Globes, four Tonys, Screen Actors Guild Life Achievement (2013), Kennedy Center Honors (2023). Retiring post-The Last of Sheila (2022) doc narration, she died 11 October 2024, aged 98.

Comprehensive filmography: Gaslight (1944); National Velvet (1944); The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945); The Harvey Girls (1946); The Hoodlum Saint (1946); Till the Clouds Roll By (1946); Bedlam (1946); The Private Affairs of Bel Ami (1947); Tenth Avenue Angel (1948); The Three Musketeers (1948); State of the Union (1948); The Red Danube (1949); Samson and Delilah (1949); Kind Lady (1951); Mutiny (1952); Remains to Be Seen (1953); The Purple Mask (1955); A Lawless Street (1955); The Court Jester (1955); Please Murder Me (1956); A Life at Stake (1955); The Long, Hot Summer (1958); The Reluctant Debutante (1958); The Summer of the Seventeenth Doll (1959); The Dark at the Top of the Stairs (1960); A Breath of Scandal (1960); Blue Hawaii (1961); All Fall Down (1962); The Manchurian Candidate (1962); In the Cool of the Day (1963); The World of Henry Orient (1964); Dear Heart (1964); The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965); The Amorous Adventures of Moll Flanders (1965); Mister Buddwing (1966); Something for Everyone (1970); Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971); Death on the Nile (1978); The Mirror Crack’d (1980); The Last Unicorn (1982, voice); The Company of Wolves (1984); The First Olympics: Athens 1896 (1984); A Christmas Carol (1984, TV); Beauty and the Beast (1991, voice); Fantasia 2000 (1999, voice); Anastasia (1997, voice); plus extensive TV/theatre.

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Bibliography

Carter, A. (1979) The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories. Gollancz, London.

Creed, B. (1993) The Monstrous-Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis. Routledge, London.

Dante, J. (1981) The Howling. Interview with Joe Dante. Fangoria, 14, pp. 20-25.

Ebert, R. (1981) The Howling. Chicago Sun-Times, 1 April. Available at: https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/the-howling-1981 (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Hudson, D. (1984) The Company of Wolves. Sight & Sound, 54(4), pp. 284-285.

Jordan, N. (2009) Nightlines. Faber & Faber, London.

Kaufman, A. (2011) Foreword to Wolves Within: The Legacy of Joe Dante. University Press of Mississippi, Jackson.

Newman, K. (1984) The Company of Wolves. Empire, July, p. 22.

Schow, D. (1982) The Howling: Production Notes. Cinefantastique, 12(5), pp. 4-15.

Williams, L. (1991) ‘When the Woman Looks’, in Dread of Difference: Gender and the Horror Film. University of Texas Press, Austin, pp. 5-34.