Saw the original, just-released The Howling at a midnight show from the balcony of a small but packed theater with my wife and her big goofy cousin. When that dumbass mousy woman was rifling through a file cabinet in the office, and the baddest werewolf put his big paw on top of the cabinet, that place went into batshit panic mode. It was like the rotted severed head boat hole scene in Jaws. Instant, massive audience raction. My wife's cousin was yelling and pushing his feet into the guy in front of him, trying to back out of his chair but he couldn't move. He was still shaking some time later when we dropped him off at his mom's house. The next day we found out that when he, still spooked, came into the dark house, his head bumped his stepdad's mounted wild boar head, all tusks and black bristles. He proceeded to shriek like a little gir and ran all the way upstairs to his bedroom, bellowing like a maniac, waking up everyone in the house. Good times. And John Carradine as grampaw werewolf, no less. The black leather chick werewolf wasn't bad, either, until she started ripping out throats. Favorite line: "Silver bullets my ass." Second favorite: "I going to have to give you a piece of my mind."