El bosque del lobo

Whilst he's an utterly pathetic character, one feels little sympathy for the central antagonist whatever his affliction, a grovelling little specimen who lures vulnerable women (and girls) deep into the woods under benevolent pretences, only to prey on his victims with selfish disregard.

His methods aren't particularly sophisticated, the MO always the same, and so it's surprising that even in the late 19th century he was able to inflict so much carnage in such a small geographical area without arousing suspicion. The web of lies are so loose that it's only a matter of time for the house of cards to tumble, and the local abbot (Casas) reluctantly sets out to discover the disturbing truth.

Lopez-Vasquez is devastatingly effective as the imbecilic, almost Neanderthal looking Benito, his mannerisms and vocal performance match the cowardly itinerant, a man of limited means who seems to feel the world owes him something, despite everyone with whom he comes into contact being courteous and respectful. Deeply resentful of their kindness, which he seems to interpret as patronising pity, he lulls them into entrusting him, then betrays that confidence with callous indifference.

Euro-horror fans will relish the sight of John Steiner in a small supporting role as a Protestant missionary with whom Benito briefly has contact, his character more incidental to the plot than critical in any way, but still interesting to see him in a very early role (the film was made in 1969).

Although not at all gory, there's still one or two scenes that many viewers could potentially find upsetting, the film isn't graphically violent, but its the sanctity the main character breaches that makes the crimes so hideous and deplorable.

Well-paced and photographed, it's an eerie little Spanish folk-horror, hard to find but definitely worth a look. And for those wanting to see lycanthropy, you'll be disappointed to realise there's no werewolf, only a wolf in sheep's clothing which in this case might still be enough to reward your attention.

If cinema is about moving your mind to another time or space, then this film is a masterpiece. Today, when you see an historical movie (at least an Spanish one), you can't help perceiving it just like several xxi century guys acting disguised like people of ancient times, but when you watch this movie you are literary moved 100 years ago, far way from your everyday life, and you can feel very well the darkness of these times, when the barrier among superstition and reality was confuse and someone like the mean character of the film, a miserable man unable to control his criminal impulses, could be confused with a "lobisome" (werewolf). In the other hand, on the contrary of most of American films, there is not unnecessary violence on this one and even when Benito Freire (the werewolf) is an assassin, as the film is going by you can just feel sorrow for him.

Most effective matter of fact Spanish horror set in the mid 19th century and seemingly based upon a true story. Most convincing with ancient looking primitive village folk going about their very basic daily life and in their midst someone who, we have seen in the pre-credit sequence suffers a traumatic event whilst a young child. The implication is clear and gradually the ghastly tale unfolds as at first we seem to see the old peddler turn into a werewolf and kill and later clearly more the victim of his own being. Some of the village scenes are a little on the dark side but the woods look amazing and make for a superb setting for the various violent incidents, of which, it has to be said we do not see very much. The finale is a wondrous sight seeming as it is to be a realistic or even real version of what we have seen so many times before when the villages take up arms for the hunt.

El bosque del lobo presents an ambitious psychological portrait that struggles beneath the weight of its own folkloric pretensions. The film focuses on Benito Freire, a lonely and miserable peddler whose world is dominated by ignorance and superstition, yet the execution feels more labored than haunting. While the Galician countryside provides a suitably oppressive backdrop, Olea's direction often favors heavy-handed symbolism over genuine atmosphere, creating a work that feels intellectually constructed rather than emotionally lived.

José Luis López Vázquez delivers a committed performance as the tormented Benito, bringing genuine pathos to a character caught between medical reality and supernatural hysteria. He is dedicated to peddling by the Galician towns and suffers severe attacks of epilepsy, and López Vázquez effectively conveys both the physical anguish and psychological deterioration of his protagonist. The supporting cast, including Amparo Soler Leal and Antonio Casas, provides solid work within the confines of somewhat archetypal roles, though their characters remain more symbolic than fully realized.

The cinematography captures the bleakness of rural Spain with appropriate moodiness, employing shadowy interiors and mist-shrouded landscapes that should theoretically enhance the film's Gothic sensibilities. However, the visual storytelling often feels derivative of other European art films of the period, lacking the distinctive voice that might elevate the material beyond its literary origins. The picture is based on the true-life story of Manuel Blanco Romasanta, the traveling vendor, who confessed to the murders of thirteen people, using their body fat to make soap, yet the historical foundation becomes lost in overly stylized presentations.

Where the film succeeds is in its exploration of how collective paranoia can destroy an individual, but where it falters is in its pacing and tonal inconsistencies. Through the region begins to spread the rumor that he is a werewolf and that he is possessed by a demonic spirit, and this psychological transformation should provide the film's dramatic core. Instead, Olea's approach feels more academic than visceral, examining themes of alienation and madness through a lens that distances rather than engages the viewer.

The film's treatment of epilepsy as a source of supernatural suspicion offers interesting social commentary, but the execution lacks the nuanced understanding that might make such material genuinely compelling. While "El bosque del lobo" demonstrates technical competence and features a strong central performance, it ultimately feels like a missed opportunity to create something truly memorable from its rich source material.

The Ancines Woods is loosely based on Spain's first recorded serial killer, Manuel Blanco Romasanta (1809-1863), who admitted to thirteen murders but claimed that he wasn't responsible for his crimes since he suffered from a curse that turned him into a wolf.

José Luis López Vázquez plays the film's murderer, Galician pedlar Benito Freire, who has been afflicted with an unspecified ailment since childhood - now, when acting as a guide for travellers, he suddenly becomes gripped by a madness that drives him to kill. Freire is shown not to be a werewolf, but rather suffering from a mental condition - schizophrenia, perhaps - that makes him act in a violent manner against his usual character. The killings are brutal, with the murder of a child being particularly disturbing (he starts to strangle her and then accidentally sets her on fire).

The film is very gradually paced, so much so that it's easy for one's attention to wander at times (I soon started to notice all of the flies in the film), but it is well acted, José Luis López Vázquez putting in a convincing central performance as the killer who evokes pity as much as he does fear. The story builds to a satisfying climax, as Freire's lies eventually start to unravel, evidence mounts against him and he becomes the subject of a manhunt.

7/10. For a more recent version of the same story (but not as good), check out Romasanta (2004), starring the late Julian Sands.