Wolf.
Wolf (1994) 
USA
125 painful minutes
Director: Mike Nichols
Writer: Jim Harrison
Wesley Strick
If you happen to be in the mood for a film whose budget can only be described as totally welfare, look no further. Wolf is it. I’m unsure exactly why director Mike Nichols chose to spend money on welfare looking animatronic wolves, for example, when real wolves would have sufficed. It wasn’t as though the wolves were required to perform overtly complicated manoeuvers like driving sports cars or jumping through flaming hoops. No. I think the most complex thing that I saw any of these shitty animatronic wolves do was raise their heads and look at the camera.
It doesn’t matter though. It’s not like real wolves would have made the difference between this film eating a colossal wolf dick (which it did) and being lauded by critics everywhere as an astounding achievement in filmmaking (which it wasn’t). Wolf had more problems than an unemployed, alcoholic single mother, namely that it was a two hour long, storyless exercise in fucking terribleness.
According to the trivia section on Wolf’s IMDB page, Jack Nicholson tried for 12 years to get this project off the ground. He should have quit after about six minutes. What exactly it was that made Jacky boy think that anyone would ever enjoy a film about a cuckold douche splash, who pokes a wolf with a stick until it bites him, and who subsequently turns into a werewolf that is more Robin Williams than evil nocturnal beast of the witching hour, is totally and completely beyond me.
It’s also completely beyond me as to why this movie had to have anything at all to do with the publishing company that Jack Nicholson’s character worked at. Did we really need to see him repeatedly show up for work even after he’d been fired? What the fuck was he doing there? He didn’t even have a job and no one seemed to care. They let him keep his office and everything.
Oh man…
It’s going to take me a while to recover from this one.
I'll Tell You What Sucks. 