A cyborg werewolf?! Matty probes a quality sci-shocker as cool as it sounds.

Every so often, with ‘90s horror finally achieving a modicum of respect among genre press, PROJECT METALBEAST finds itself on the cusp of cult status.

The final film in the Filmtrust Motion Picture Licensing dynasty, made three years after the company became Blue Ridge Entertainment, Project Metalbeast was issued on video by co-producers Prism — long-time Filmtrust customers — on 17th January 1995. It stands as their last ever VHS release as well. The film landed in the U.K. (as the Project-less ‘Metal Beast’) through New Age Entertainment three months later, on 17th April. A popular renter, Project Metalbeast’s appeal was augmented by airings on Cinemax and SyFy which, in turn, have led to it becoming a fixture on hidden gem lists from the 2010s onward. Sadly, due to the weird ‘Blu-ray or bust’ mentality of most fans and collectors, this ripping yarn will likely remain an almost-ran. Boutique outfit MVD attempted to get a Blu-ray off the ground in 2020, but suitable elements for a transfer couldn’t be located. As such, Project Metalbeast’s brightest moment in the sun to date was overshadowed when the horror hoarders learnt that its latest physical media incarnation would be – ye Gods! – DVD only; a format now no better than flipbooks in the eyes of many. 

A shame. Project Metalbeast is a solid monster movie and absolutely on par with its contemporaries, Full Eclipse (1993) and Bad Moon (1996), in the fun department. Buoyed by a hook as imaginative as the Hong Kong-influenced former and family saga latter, Project Metalbeast offers a scintillating blend of mad science and robo-schlock. Essentially The Wolf Man (1941) by way of Alien (1979) and The Terminator (1984), the wonderfully wacky plot sees the eponymous, cybernetically enhanced werewolf terrorising the staff of a top secret government facility (in actuality the oft-used Tillman Water Reclamation Plant in Van Nuys, CA) after its base model – a crazed black ops soldier (John Marzilli) who injected himself with lycan blood back in the ‘70s – is thawed out of cryogenic suspension and noodled with. 

Calling to mind Glenn Takakjian’s similarly sidelined Metamorphosis: The Alien Factor (1990), right down to Barry Bostwick’s character seeming like a cousin of the mighty Dr. Viallini, Project Metalbeast mirrors its own monster. An old school romp with modern trappings, Alessandro De Gaetano’s direction is ripped straight from the ‘50s playbook; say, somewhere between The Thing From Another World (1951), The Tingler (1959), and The Wasp Woman (1959). A lower-league exploitation veteran (see: Haunted (1977), Bloodbath in Psycho Town (1989)), De Gaetano’s allusions and evocations extend to Project Metalbeast’s structure and pacing. Following a hot start – a tremendous action sequence set in a spooky gothic castle – it takes a while to get to the creature carnage. Thankfully, there’s enough to savour on the way, with natty, comic book production design and a bit of Cronenbergian body bending bolstering the melodrama and ickiness. 

Designed and executed by John Carl Buechler and his MMI squad — incorrectly billed as ‘Magic Media Industries’, rather than ‘Magical’ — the FX are, of course, front and centre. A cynic could argue that, a la several Buechler renderings of the period, the reach exceeds the budgetary grasp. However, Project Metalbeast’s bombastic and typically cartoon-y confections benefit from De Gaetano knowing how to best present them, and the fact the two big showpieces — the werewolf and the Metalbeast — are inhabited by Buechler’s old China, Kane Hodder: a talent acutely aware that there’s more to a creature performance than simply being a big guy in a rubber suit.

Sometimes without a colon, sometimes with – ‘Project: Metalbeast’. 

USA ● 1995 ● Sci-Fi, Horror ● 91mins

Barry Bostwick, Kim Delaney, John Zarzill ● Dir. Alessandro De Gaetano (billed as ‘Michael De Gaetano’ on the U.K. VHS) ● Wri. Alessandro De Gaetano (billed as ‘Michael De Gaetano’ on the U.K. VHS) and Timothy E. Sabo, and Roger Steinmann (uncredited)