My quick rating – 5.1/10. When you mix Hollywood vanity, a raging wildfire, and a pack of bloodthirsty coyotes, you’d think you’d have the recipe for a deliciously chaotic creature feature. Coyotes certainly starts that way, opening with the titular predators stalking an influencer—because, let’s face it, one less social media parasite isn’t exactly a loss to humanity. The sequence sets the tone: stylish, a bit snarky, and ready to sink its teeth into both the privileged elite and some practical gore. Unfortunately, the film itself ends up a bit like its prey, cornered by its own dumb decisions.
The movie introduces its human cast through fun, pop-art-style name cards that feel ripped from a hyperactive graphic novel. I like this playful touch that works well early on, giving us a quick sense of the characters’ eccentric personalities. There’s a nice rhythm to the setup, as we meet a group of rich, quirky types holed up in their Hollywood Hills mansion while the hills burn and coyotes close in. It’s a clever premise—nature reclaiming space while the self-absorbed elite scramble to survive—but it soon becomes clear that logic didn’t make it through the fire.
Take, for instance, Justin Long building a cage inside a sealed garage, as if the entire garage wasn’t already a massive cage. That’s the kind of head-scratching decision that drags the film down. And then there are the bizarre moments where characters talk to the coyotes, as if negotiating with nature’s murder puppets would make any sense. Still, there are flashes of promise here, particularly the practical effects work. One neighbor’s death scene delivers some satisfyingly gnarly gore, and the bite sequences don’t shy away from the red stuff.
Long gives a solid performance, managing to juggle panic and sarcasm in equal measure. His real-life wife, Kate Bosworth, adds an interesting layer of realism to their on-screen dynamic, especially since the film takes place in Hollywood itself. Their chemistry gives the movie a slight edge when the script starts wobbling. The humor, meanwhile, swings between sharp and cringeworthy, sometimes landing a chuckle but more often feeling forced.
I give director Colin Minihan some credit for keeping the tension alive during the quieter moments. He knows how to frame claustrophobic panic and stage a decent siege scenario. Unfortunately, the writing team doesn’t seem to know when to rein it in. The dialogue occasionally dips into outright stupidity, with lines and decisions so absurd you start rooting for the coyotes to thin the herd.
Visually, the film holds up—until the digital coyotes show up in full force. Their uncanny, weightless movements kill the tension more effectively than any tranquilizer dart could. It’s a shame, because when the movie leans on practical makeup and effects, it shines. The corpses look great, the attacks feel brutal, and there’s an old-school creature-feature energy buried beneath the clumsy CGI and nonsense dialogue.
In the end, Coyotes isn’t the disaster I thought it could’ve been. It’s messy and often laughable—but it’s also occasionally fun, bloody, and weirdly self-aware. As far as Shocktober distractions go, there are certainly better beasts out there—but worse ways to spend 90 minutes, too.
