You could basically replace the werewolf in “The Rebirth” with anything you wanted, and nothing would change. Ghosts, demons, a slasher out for revenge. Like the former sequels, “The Rebirth” builds up this illusion that it’s a werewolf film and a further progression of “The Howling” storyline, when in reality it’s just another dull horror film. And one that avoids showing actual werewolves for a duration of the story. I use the term “story” very loosely.
Asking anyone to watch “The Howling: New Moon Rising” should be punishable by jail time and some kind of psychological examination. “New Moon Rising” is so bad it’s inhuman. It’s so bad it makes the former “The Howling” entries seem watchable in comparison. There is no reason why “New Moon Rising” should exist. Near as I can figure, someone took a tourist board video for a small Western town, injected imagery depicting a view through the eyes of a werewolf stalking animals, spliced in footage from the past “The Howling” movies and called it a day.
When Dracula tells you there’s trouble afoot, you should probably listen. “Howling 2” is a sequel to the Joe Dante film because, I guess it has something resembling werewolves in it somewhere. There’s Sybil Danning boiling the screen with her sexiness, and a legion of werewolves, there’s Sybil Danning completely re-defining the term skin tight, and the theme song. I have to say, as a kid who grew up with horror movies that mostly ranged from the eighties, the theme song by Stephen W. Parsons is haunting, and has been burned in to my brain since I was in the single digits age range.
It’s really tough to make sense of “The Marsupials,” but much like the second film, it has a good idea but a terrible execution. It wants to be a psychological thriller, a horror romance, a satire of horror movies, and a werewolf picture all in one and fails to deliver on these aspects two fold. “The Marsupials” garners too much of a narrative for one picture, and should have been spread out in to another film, altogether. One thing is for certain: The connection to the Joe Dante film stops at the fact that it has werewolves in it.
If you’re going to be a derivative movie, don’t hide it. Flaunt it, own it, and be able to take the premise you’re deriving from and twist in to something excellent. “Fright Night” does the very thing. What if, instead of a murderer, the next door neighbor was a vampire? And what if, instead of a disabled man, we featured a young high school boy with a bad habit for snooping? And what if, instead of a photographer, this character was a horror fan whose imagination may or may not be playing tricks on him?
Surely, “Chastity Bites” is a horror comedy you’ll either really enjoy, or very much loathe. And for the same reasons. It’s incredibly niche, and overbearing in its commentary about women, consumerism, and materialism in our society. How far are women willing to go to stay young? Would they even make a pact with the devil and murder those around them? “Chastity Bites” is a combination of “Stepford Wives,” “Dracula,” and bit of “Mean Girls” without any of the inherent genius behind the aforementioned tales.
Imagine waking up one morning to run your errands, and you’re then stopped by police who insist you’ve committed a horrible crime? And what happens when everyone else you come across swears you’ve committed this horrible crime, and you know yourself that you’ve never even held a gun? How do you convince everyone that you’re an innocent man, when people can identify you as a criminal, and present evidence that contradicts your claims? What happens when you’re about to go to jail for a crime you have committed and can’t prove that you didn’t commit it? That’s the nightmare Manny Balestrero, a family man, finds himself in, in Alfred Hitchcock’s gripping and awfully horrifying thriller that sees a wrongly convicted man who has no chance of proving he’s committed the awful crime he’s been accused of.