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I have to agree with the above poster, this really was a howler (no pun intended). I’ve never been a big fan of Christine Ricci but she seemed particularly ill at ease in this film. The young Eisenberg boy seemed a lot better but the Williamson script, with its tired attempts to outguess the viewer was quite weak. I was kinda expecting a Scream style re-assessment of the clichés perhaps with some witty comments on what being a werewolf would really be like, i.e. the terrible expense of ripped clothes every month rather than the crzy idea that every time they touch silver they start smoking. I think Wes Craven directed this in his sleep.
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