It sounded like it could be fun. The premise of the most powerful brokerage firm on Wall Street being run by hunky werewolves could have worked. And the film does boast some capable actors, even an amusing cameo appearance by Louise Lasser (from "Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman"). Obviously, one doesn't expect a classic film, but the least these people could have delivered is something enjoyably bad. But there is no excuse for it being so dull. There are no werewolf transformations on camera, for starters. Eric Roberts plays the senior partner of the firm with "where's my paycheck?" restlessness, while the supporting cast just goes through the motions. There are constant, repetitive shots of Wall Street buildings, full moons (do full moons happen several nights in a row there?), embarrassingly bad wolf puns, and an idiotic flashback from a party. In the flashback in question, the brokers all strip off their clothes Chippendale's style, then crawl to a pair of seated female models, sniffing and licking their hands and legs while the women moan (but look like they're yawning). Meanwhile, the sound of wolves growling plays on the soundtrack. What do they plan to do to the women? Seduce them? Eat them? Hump their legs and pee on the carpeting? I never figured it out. There are a few off-camera killings, but it's the paying audience who are the real victims. David DeCoteau (the man responsible for this) belongs in the doghouse.