Predator: The Quietus

Ok, this is a weird one. On paper an 80s horror movie about an American journalist and a British big game Hunter sent to rural England to get to the bottom of what is suspected werewolf attacks sounds pretty by the numbers. However, this is that tried and tired trope delivered through the lens of Cliff Twemlow.

A bouncer-turned-stuntman by trade, Twemlow is one of the most unique characters to emerge in that most unique of cinematic decades. When not performing stunts our Cliff was penning paperback horror movies and his bouncing memoirs, all the while writing, producing and starring in his own brand of utterly bizarre, quintessentially British exploitation movies. These don't tend to be very good, but given that they are basically the work of Twemlow and his mates, they do have an undeniable gung ho charm about them.

Despite the fact his career as a novelist was rooted in the horror genre, Twemlow only ventured into it on film twice, with this being the first strike. Here he stars as Daniel Kane, an internationally renowned, Fiat Panda driving big game Hunter called in by a New York newspaper to aid reporter Kelly O'Neill (Cordelia Roche) with her upcoming big story. A series of grizzly murders have rocked a small English village, with locals murmuring that it may be the work of a werewolf.

Needless to say headstrong reporter Kelly immediately clashes with the stoic, macho Kane (in all honesty she seems determined to hate him for no reason other than it being an 80s movie trope) but the pair must come together to overcome unhelpful locals and get to the bottom of who, or what, is terrorising the locals.

Despite the distinct lack of plot, you may be surprised to learn that this is a movie that's biggest drawback is how incredibly talky it is. A lot is said but not a lot of it has much purpose. There's a pair of comic relief Irish drunks who pad time trying to hunt the werewolf for a reward. Their addition, along with a few comical bits of exposition where it's revealed the Masons have arranged for Kane to be allowed to run about with a machine gun (?!) and the police ponder if O'Neill's surname and New York origins means she's investigating IRA involvement in the murders do add some decidedly British flavour for better or worse.

I've skipped over 2 'major' characters, who don't have a huge bearing on proceedings but are there. Firstly we've got Badger (Brian Sterling) leader of a local gang of rapey punks who all gave animal nicknames (!?) he exists almost entirely to allow an action sequence to take place where Kane batters his gang. Then there is Wilbur Sledge, as immortalised by Darryl Marchant.

Now Wilbur is probably this movie's greatest triumph. An utterly bizarre hermit who talks to trees, he looks like the bassist from a New Wave band dressed as a farmer, there is nothing straightforward about Wilbur and he's all the better for it. This movie's biggest flaw is how dull it can be but any time he's on screen things come to life as you've no idea where things are going to go.

The film tries to set him up to make you think he could be the werewolf, but truth be told he's far more captivating than the monster, and things might have been better had he been.

That's the movie's biggest crime; we have a monster who does very little, and when it does we don't get to see it. If I'm being generous I could say it's because they were trying to add an air of mystery over if it was a monster or a man, but given that this is never explored properly Im not sure that's the case.

What glimpses we do get of the monster reveal that it's not great, but also not the worst I've ever seen, and maybe that also played a part on its inactivity.

The acting on show is, well, not great. Twemlow, while not oozing in natural charisma, is actually fairly affable as a protagonist. He's reminiscent of Dennis Waterman from minder. Roche is forgettable as our female lead, and one can't help but think Marchant would have been a much better Co-lead.

The movie went unreleased for years, and curiously when MGM remastered and unleashed it upon streaming its original, and more sensible, title of Moonbeast had been jettisoned in favour of the comically nonsensical Predator: The Quietus. It does mean you'll stand more chance of stumbling upon it by accident. As another reviewer says, it has more in common with Rawhead Rex (but duller) than Predator. It's not the worst movie I've ever seen, but that doesn't mean it's any good, and I couldn't honestly recommend it.