So Many Cliches, So Little Time

So Many Cliches, So Little Time

I found a two-fer DVD at the Stop & Shop a few weeks ago — “The Howling”, installments V and VI. Oddly enough, V’s release date is two years after VI.

VI has got most of what you want in this type of film, except breasts. (There is one, but it’s attached to a hermaphrodite nightclub singer.)

Now I don’t expect great writing, but can’t we do a little better than this roster of stereotypes? Sheriff who is automatically suspicious of foreigners; peckerwood pol in polyester three-piece suit, even when it’s obviously 98 degrees; preacher/weirdo; preacher’s daughter, anxious to get a little sinning in; evil villain who might or might not be Satan and dresses like a roadie for Rush.

OK then. We’re talking cat swinging. Supernaturally evil villain in charge of a circus. Tight pants and checked frock coats on same, which for some is the true horror. Stupid fat mayor. Stupid fat mayor’s stupid fat wife. Alligator boy. Malevolent midget. Lycanthropic transformation scenes shot on a very tight budget. Werewolf who looks like Michael Jackson after a long night in the Magic Kingdom. Cute girl who fails to get nekkid. Yokels. Guns. Some blood. One breast, sort of. Exceptionally stupid. A grudging two coils.

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