Years ago, late one night, I caught The Company of Wolves on the BBC. It remained a wondrous fever dream but I hadn’t seen it in over 30 years so I thought I’d give it a revisit.
Now, Neil Jordan and Angela Carter’s 1984 cult classic isn't your average ’80s creature feature. Drenched in gothic romance and Freudian symbolism, it filters Little Red Riding Hood into a haunting, dreamlike descent into dark folklore. Far from a straightforward horror flick, the film operates as a richly symbolic nightmare, weaving together fairy-tale mythos, adolescent anxiety and the primal allure of the wild.
The film opens in the present day with young Rosaleen (Sarah Patterson) falling asleep in her bedroom and dreaming herself into a fantastical, timeless forest. This framing device immediately pulls us into the subconscious, where childhood innocence collides head-on with burgeoning maturity and the dangerous realities of the adult world. Governed entirely by dream logic, the narrative glides effortlessly between eerie, nested vignettes—each serving as a cautionary fable or a dark metaphor for Rosaleen's internal awakenings.
Visually, the film is an absolute triumph of atmospheric studio design. Drenched in heavy fog, eerie lighting, and towering trees, the hyper-stylised forest sets create an unforgettable, fairy-tale gothic atmosphere that punches well above its weight. Then, of course, there are the practical effects. The transformation sequences remain properly skin-crawling, prioritizing psychological body horror over standard creature-feature tropes and delivering a visceral depiction of metamorphosis where the beast literally tears its way out from within the human shell.
At the heart of the film is its clever reinterpretation of the wolf. It isn't just a literal predator lurking in the trees; it’s a multifaceted symbol for masculine desire, forbidden temptation, and the untamed nature inside us all. Anchored by Patterson's quiet curiosity, the narrative is elevated further by Angela Lansbury, who is marvellous as Grandmother. She delivers chilling, darkly humorous warnings about men and their animalistic impulses—most famously offering the immortal advice:
"Never trust a man whose eyebrows meet."
While its heavily allegorical nature means it prioritises mood and thematic resonance over a traditional linear plot, those willing to surrender to its hypnotic rhythm are in for a deeply psychological ride. The Company of Wolves emerges as a visually intoxicating, intellectually provocative piece that transcends its genre—a dark fairy tale for grown-ups that masterfully navigates the fine line between fear and fascination, inviting you to ponder the wolves within and without long after the static fades.
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