When I grogged to bed after the closing credits, I thought, "I'll bet I have weird dreams." And I did, but oddly, not about wolves or their ilk, but finally, an honest-to-god dream about a full-on zombie outbreak here in my Obscure Midwestern Town. It included a visit to Subway, because...my fellow flee-ers and I needed sustenance, and it was open, although the people in line were slightly less picky than usual about their toppings.
Also, someone had hung a sheet in their window and written "Soylent Green" on it, which amused me even as we drove down the residential streets and saw zombies munching on the slow-moving elderly.
Anyway, Wolfen was a wee bit slow-moving in the beginning, but I don't think that's why I fell asleep. I fell asleep the other day during a disco movie I was enjoying immensely (although I'll tell ya, Kumar Gaurav is no Mithun). Certainly Wolfen's themes are still quite relevant, almost thirty years later: the government agency sees terrorism everywhere, because doing so justifies its existence and its budget; gentrification drives the poor out of the places they were driven into in the first to, and the rich are oblivious to the damage they're doing to others.
Whenever I see Albert Finney, I can't help thinking, there was once a time when he was young and good-looking. It just seems so unfathomable. Of course, in his case, the window was pretty small, so let that be a cautionary tale to all you youngsters about the hard living. I was pondering that when Edward James Olmos -- yes, Adama himself -- appeared, so young and skinny I hardly recognized him.
I doubt that any ancient wolf spirits could hide too long in our downtown; they're too big, and it's too small. But if any similar beings are going to stalk the construction site that's put a big barren hole next to my place of my work, I hope they leave my customers alone. Well, and me. I'd have left their old haunts standing. Being impractical is good for the soul.