The Howling Werewolves Join The Hall Of Killers And They’re Ready To Party Under The Full Moon
If you hear something scratching at your door tonight, it is probably just The Howling pack celebrating. The legendary beasts from Joe Dante’s 1981 classic The Howling have officially been inducted into the First Class tier of the Hall of Killers. Not quite up there with the untouchable icons in the Legendary ranks like Freddy or Dracula, but close enough to bare their teeth in that direction. And honestly, that feels right. The Howling werewolves are the kind of monsters who prefer being just outside the velvet rope anyway.
When The Howling hit theaters in 1981, audiences had no idea what was about to bite them. The movie arrived in the same year as An American Werewolf in London, giving horror fans two very different takes on lycanthropy within months of each other. Landis went for dark humor and melancholy, while Joe Dante went for nightmare fuel and chaos. His film follows Karen White, played by Dee Wallace, a Los Angeles news anchor who barely survives an encounter with a serial killer and is sent to a rural therapy retreat to recover. Anyone who has seen a horror movie knows how that turns out. The retreat is called “The Colony,” and it is full of people who should probably not be trusted with sharp objects or a full moon.
What made The Howling stand out was its mix of savage energy and wicked humor. The werewolves here were not tragic souls cursed by fate. They were confident, predatory, and downright smug about being apex carnivores. They had jobs, personalities, and a love of dramatic entrances. When they were not devouring campers, they were debating philosophy and power structures. These were not your grandpa’s howlers — these wolves had swagger.
And then there were the effects. The transformations designed by Rob Bottin were nothing short of revolutionary. Faces stretched, bones cracked, and skin rippled like molten wax as the humans turned into towering beasts covered in muscle and fur. You could almost feel the pain and ecstasy of the change. The sequence went on for what felt like forever, and audiences ate it up. Bottin would later go on to terrify the world with The Thing, but The Howling was where he first announced that he could outdo any bottle of latex in Hollywood.
The movie’s success was partly due to Dante’s direction, which balanced horror, satire, and genuine affection for the genre. Before Gremlins and The Burbs, he was already perfecting the art of making audiences laugh right before making them scream. The Howling is filled with inside jokes for horror fans and references to classic werewolf cinema, but it never loses its bite. By the time Dee Wallace’s character transforms live on television in the finale, the film has gone full mad genius — a moment of tragedy, spectacle, and irony that still holds up.
Of course, being a hit in the eighties meant sequels, and The Howling franchise produced a collection of follow ups so bizarre that even the moon was confused. Howling II: Your Sister Is a Werewolf brought in Christopher Lee and some serious wardrobe regrets. Howling III decided that marsupial werewolves were a good idea, and by Howling VI: The Freaks, we were knee deep in traveling carnivals, vampires, and logic that had clearly gone on vacation. Each one was its own kind of disaster, but a glorious one. Horror fans still watch them the way one watches a car accident — with fascination, horror, and popcorn.
But make no mistake, the original Howling remains the alpha of the pack. It turned the werewolf myth into something dangerous again, something visceral and seductive. It also gave us a new kind of monster movie — part creature feature, part media satire, and entirely unashamed of its weirdness.
Now that they have officially taken their place in the First Class tier of the Hall of Killers, these wolves can finally stand shoulder to shoulder with other horror heavyweights like Candyman, Pinhead, and Ghostface. Not quite the gods of terror, but certainly the ones who make the gods look over their shoulders every full moon.
So raise a glass, preferably filled with something red, to Joe Dante’s unforgettable pack of carnivorous philosophers. These werewolves are proof that you can chew scenery and still look good doing it. And remember, if you ever find yourself invited to a therapy retreat in the woods, just say no. Especially if everyone there has really sharp teeth.
