Coyotes Review: Justin Long Vs Nature, Neighbours, and Nonsense in the Hollywood Hills
Coyotes is the sort of film that saunters into your streaming queue wearing aviators, holding a flaming stick, and whispering something about climate collapse while chucking raw meat at Justin Long. It is a creature feature, a comedy, a satire, and at times a fever dream with fangs. The film lands somewhere between social commentary and a very expensive prank gone wrong, and somehow, it all mostly works. Mostly.
The story follows Scott and Liv Stewart, a couple who have gone from working class nobodies to Hollywood Hills homeowners, which in horror terms might as well be an open invitation for something awful to come crashing through your triple-glazed bi-fold doors. Justin Long plays Scott with the exact amount of smug confusion you want from a man whose biggest accomplishment is designing comic books but who now finds himself swinging a garden rake at predators with a taste for flesh. Kate Bosworth as Liv brings the sense and the sanity, playing the one person in the house who has ever watched a survival documentary and actually paid attention.
Their teenage daughter Chloe has already checked out emotionally by the time the film starts, and the small family dog Charlie exists solely to raise the stakes every time something growls. The situation escalates quickly when local wildfires force a pack of angry coyotes into their pristine neighbourhood and what begins as a pest control issue turns into a siege.
From the first coyote appearance to the final blood-splattered curtain call, the film never lets you get too comfortable. There is something gleefully chaotic about watching LA’s most pampered elite get chewed on by nature’s angriest scavengers, especially when said elite includes a sweaty neighbour with a weapons stash and a party girl who moonlights as a conspiracy theorist.
Justin Long excels at playing men who try very hard and still manage to fail in increasingly spectacular ways. He is clueless, terrified, and wildly out of his depth, which makes every attempt at heroism a sort of tragic slapstick ballet. Bosworth plays it mostly straight, grounding the madness with enough eye rolls and practical decisions to make you believe she is the only one who read the emergency manual. The two of them together have great chemistry, no doubt helped by the fact they are married in real life, and their bickering feels more lived in than scripted.
The real star of the supporting cast is Brittany Allen as Julie, who seems to have wandered in from an entirely different film and is somehow more prepared than anyone. She chews the scenery with style, navigating between comedy and chaos with the skill of someone who knows exactly what kind of film she is in and has decided to just enjoy the ride. Other neighbours appear as walking clichés, but that is part of the charm. These people feel like they were handpicked by a particularly sarcastic casting director for maximum absurdity.
The coyotes themselves are best described as enthusiastic. The visual effects are questionable at best, giving them the look of digitally mangled taxidermy with a mild grudge. They snarl, they lunge, they rip through everything, and they never quite look real. And yet, that is also part of the fun. The film knows it is not delivering realism, it is delivering chaos. The coyotes could have been better rendered, sure, but their cartoonish appearance fits the tone far better than something sleek and slick.
Pacing-wise, the film rarely slows down. It is a brisk ninety minutes, and even when it dips into quieter territory, something ludicrous is always around the corner. The script throws in jabs at environmental destruction, class divide, and modern masculinity, though it never fully commits to any one idea. It is more of a splatter-covered postcard from the end times, delivered with a wink and a bloody paw print. There is an attempt at eco-commentary, tying the coyote aggression to wildfires and human expansion, but this is never more than a passing nod. The film is far more interested in what happens when you put a flamethrower in the hands of a terrified dad with questionable reflexes.
A few gimmicks get in the way, such as the comic book style character intros that serve no real purpose beyond reminding you that someone once thought it looked cool. Thankfully, that stylistic choice vanishes quickly and never returns. What does stick is the music, a manic score by Brittany Allen that keeps everything bouncing along with nervous energy.
Coyotes is not highbrow, but it is high energy. It delivers just enough character, just enough satire, and more than enough chaos to earn its spot on the October horror calendar. It is not particularly scary, but it is gory, silly, and wildly entertaining. Think of it as a roast dinner cooked in a firestorm while wolves circle the table. You may not remember every detail, but you will definitely remember the bite.
