Best known for low budget homoerotic horror movies (Brotherhood, Voodoo Academy, Leeches), David Decoteau got his start as an assistant through Roger Corman in 1980, and has since developed his own cult following. Since 1985, Decoteau has directed over fifty films, so you can't expect high quality art or mainstream appeal from his work. Like Lloyd Kaufman, the dual Canadian-U.S. citizen founded his own production company (Rapid Heart Pictures) but don't expect severed body parts, squished heads, big boobs, and lots of blood and gore. Decoteau is into soft-core homoeroticism, generally placing the male in peril.

These elements come into play in his 2002 production of Wolves of Wall Street, which has been selected by William Shatner for his Sci-Fi-Horror DVD club (a sure signal of enjoyment over artistry). Shot on location with a relatively minuscule budget, you can't expect state-of-the-art special effects generated werewolf transformations, but Decoteau does maintain high production value and concentrates more on the metaphorical implications--assigning wolf-like behaviors to ambitious Wall Street brokers.

Cast for his pretty boy looks and hunk factor, William Gregory Lee (as Jeff Allen) pursues his Manhattan-based dream of being a broker. Settling into a ramshackle apartment just outside the city (with Louise Lasser in a cameo as his cheek-pinching landlady), Allen dutifully calls his worried mother to assure her of his well-being (but primarily to briefly sketch in back story and promote sympathy). After a day of consistent rejections, Allen stops into a bar where Annabelle (Elisa Donovan) brightens up the day with a hopeful lead (and the film's best acting performance); her deceased husband had worked for a brokerage that hired ambitious young studs.

Sure enough, the Wolfe Brothers accept Allen as a trial apprentice after he assures them that he's looking for a lifetime career in the firm. Housed in the most Gothic office building in lower Manhattan, everyone in the firm looks like he just stepped out of GQ and leader Dyson Keller (veteran actor Eric Roberts, most memorable in Star 80 and The Pope of Greenwich Village) firmly establishes the aggressive ideology of the company. Dyson punctuates company philosophy with heavy breaths (marking the time it takes him to make another $1,000) that drip continually with wolf metaphors--they operate as a pack in the "dog eat dog" world, where they are predators closing in on their prey. The wolf references certainly don't stop there, but occur so often that audiences are compelled to howl (or groan). The pretty boys of the film all feast on raw steak for hors d'oeuvres, lust after women and give off pheromones to attract them, and mark their territory by literally urinating on it.

Continually pounded to strike "can't" from his vocabulary and instructed to focus on his prey and relentlessly pursue it, Allen goes after Annabelle. Although attracted to him, she initially deflects his dogged stalking. She has made a personal pact to never date another broker--she knows what they are like. Of course, she gives in and makes Allen promise that he won't let the job come between them.

We already realize that that isn't going to last. Not with the ominous alpha male Dyson continually reminding Allen about the company terms--not with the flashback sequence of a bloodied young business man fleeing the Wolfe Brothers building--not with a big full moon incessantly shining above the Empire State Building. Just the concept of a were-wolf movie indicates a radical change in character, so Allen's promise only serves to propel the narrative along a predictable path.

The screenplay also telegraphs many other moves far in advance. When Annabelle gives in to Allen's hot pursuit, she offers a present she just happened to see--a solid silver pen. The only doubts remaining are just exactly who will be on its receiving end. Whether this ends up as a Hollywood style ending or European style ambiguity is up to the director, and I'll not reveal that here.

Both Roberts and Donovan offer credible performances, but the others awkwardly hit their marks like acting school students. But you're not ever going to consider renting this for the acting. Decoteau cultists expecting more explicit boy toy soft porn will also find themselves disappointed, as this only offers hints of male eroticism--a brief glimpse of buff men ripping off their t-shirts and some guys in their briefs.

Rating such cult movies with stars is irrelevant. Most viewers will either love or hate Wolves of Wall Street, and unsuspecting mainstream fans will definitely fit into the latter group. William Shatner likes something about the film though I'm not certain exactly what. I'd guess that it has something to do with the film's excellent production values that create a creepy atmosphere over nighttime Manhattan while describing the cutthroat corporate world with disturbing predatory metaphors