La profecía del tarot

Like it or not, Werewolves On Wheels is the undisputed best of the biker/werewolf sub-genre. A chillin' little B-movie, that is well aware that it is a B-movie, hence the title. You can really tell these guys had fun making this. We begin with a biker gang riding across country. These aren't just any bikers, they're The Devil's Advocates, so we already know they're mean mothers. In reality, The Devil's Advocates are a bunch of crude, obnoxious drug-addicts on motorcycles, who like to think they're in cahoots with the Devil, but lately, there is some kind of evil hovering over them. As luck would have it, there is a psychic in the group, so, you know that he'll shed some light on the situation so they can locate this evil, and kick its ass. They decide that a nearby satanic church is the root of their alleged problems, once they arrive, they're distracted by all the free wine from the satanic monks, which gives them the chance to place a curse on The Devil's Advocates. A curse that would leave, at least one of them a werewolf. Now, with all of this going on, the guys decide to take it to the desert, so they can clear their heads, and say their ooblah-dooblah's, but, not before kicking all the monk's asses. Now, among the wide-open freedom of the desert, The Devil's Advocates can get as drunk, high, and rowdy as they please. The only problem is, every time everyone passes out, someone gets torn to shreds. Who knows? Maybe the psychic can help matters. Probably not, though.

Werewolves on Wheels, above all, is a good old-fashion fun B-movie, without a lot of thought put into continuity, or script, for that matter. They just went out there and entertained the drive-in crowd that it was clearly intended for. True, they could have explained things a little better, and the killings could have been better/gorier, but the atmosphere, score, and of course, the cheesy entertainment value more than make up for the flaws. For a much better example of a werewolf movie, check out Ginger Snaps, and for a much better example of life in the desert, check out The Chooper. Werewolves On Wheels certainly isn't one of the all time greats in werewolf horror, but as far as the biker/werewolf sub genre goes, look no further, because Werewolves On Wheels is the measuring stick. 7/10

if you're looking for late night viewing while riding out a rough weekend, this is one piece of C grade cinema that will definitely entertain. it's best not to attempt to follow the plot, and just try to enjoy it scene for scene. some surprisingly inventive dialog at times and inspired casting for backing roles...check out the disturbed gas station attendant. It's a mix of Ed Wood's guerilla film-making style and Roger Corman's sense of poetic bohemia. Then the acid kicks in. its apparent the filmmakers were partaking in some type of recreational or experimental activities. the subtle charm of the avant-gardeness of it all seems to almost offset the fact that most of it makes little or no sense. i'm sure someone somewhere has found deeper meaning in this film than it deserves. But how can you go wrong with Satanic bikers who turn into werewolves? gather up the family after Thanksgiving and drop this gem on your relatives.

I have wanted to see this movie for YEARS, considering it has one of the greatest titles ever. What I was hoping for was bikers riding along in full wolfman makeup, like the poster suggests. What I got was hippies galavanting across a desert and two(I think its two, it might be just one) members of the crew change into wolf form within the last 2-3 minutes of the movie. I can't say that I think it's art, unless you can watch 'Manos, the Hands of Fate" and think that's art...attempted art, I suppose. To be clear, this movie is NOT as bad as Manos, as very few movies ever made are awful to that degree. Still, the title made me think I would enjoy this movie enthusiastically as it implies the kind of shlocky camp I find amusing and I came away incredibly disappointed...and bored.

This was a cool, funky little film, kind of an attempt to mix Easy Rider with any werewolf film. The Devils Advocates are a dirty, sleazy, nasty biker gang who live on the road, stopping only to sleep, drink and screw. When they stop one night at the foot of a Satanic Temple, and are offered food and drink by the monks, their life on the road gets a little weirder.

No, sadly, you really don't get to see hairy werewolves howling maniacally as they drive down dark highways illuminated by the full moon. What you do get is an attempt at artiness, as scenes are intercut with shots of black birds wheeling through the still air, a drugged girl dances naked before a fire as deranged monks deliver a spooky chant and a tarot reader displays talents more accurate than many I've seen in the movies. There's some absolutely hysterical additional dialogue and parts of the film almost have a documentary type feel to it. No, it's not the worlds most flawless film by any means, but it's better than a lot of the crap that was coming out around the same time. It has a realistic grittiness to it, yet at the same time possesses an ethereal atmosphere. It was just funky enough to impress me.

While shaky in premise, Werewolves on Wheels contains all the absurdity, excess and self-awareness necessary to maintain interest. The plot roams all over the place, the actors mumble a lot of their lines and the ending is distinctly dissatisfying - but nevertheless it's well worth 85 minutes of your time. A rowdy gang of bikers who call themselves the Devil's Advocates shows up at a gas station in the middle of the desert to terrorizes the attendant, then proceeds to stumble upon a monastery while partying in a nearby forest. The ominous monks share suspect bread and wine, greedily indulged upon by the rowdy gang. When they're too drunk to notice, head monk `One,' an interesting role for the usually funny Severn Darden, plucks a hair from one of their heads and places it in a bat buckle. He then prays to Satan and kills a cat. The fun begins at this point, and biker lady D. J. Anderson materializes for some sort of dark ritual. When the bikers realize she's gone missing, they seek out the monks and beat the living pulp out of them. The bikers think little of the events that have transpired, but the following night at the campfire Anderson seems to suck head biker Stephen Oliver's blood, and a mock Satanic dance culminates in the grisly deaths of two members of the gang. After terrorizing another gas station they roam around the desert pretending to make a movie, creating a distinctly self-reflective mood. Nonsense-preaching Duece Berry (whose character is named `Tarot') tries to warn Oliver that something's in the air but he'll have none of his buddy's mystic mumbo-jumbo. They burn a pile of old cars and Anderson sees foreboding signs in the flames. Much of the same insanity carries the film right up to its vague conclusion. Writer-director Michael Levesque, who worked on a couple of Russ Meyer films, is a decent enough filmmaker and the camera work and editing and enjoyable, but the film suffers from over-abuse of the zoom. At least three cast members also appeared in The Last Movie, also made in 1971, and folk singer Barry McGuire appears as a member of the bike gang. Most of the rest of the cast are stunt performers, including a number of the leads. Don Gere provides an excellent psychedelic soundtrack, by far the best of any biker movie I've seen. The unusually diverse cast and enthusiastic amateur creative spirit create an atmosphere more exciting than the majority of contemporary genre filmmaking. What it all comes down to is that this a movie for people who like to drink in the morning, like myself.