The Howling 7: New Moon Rising (1995)

Easily one of the worst movies I’ve seen in some time, “New Moon Rising” is without a doubt the most piss awful “Howling” sequel yet. “Howling” regular Clive Turner, who produced some of parts 4 and 5 as well as “acted” in them, serves here as producer, writer, postproduction supervisor, supervising editor, and director. In other words, he’s the fucker responsible for this mess. As far as a plot wrap up goes, I’ll make it blissfully quick for not only do I dread reliving the experience, I’m really at a complete loss as to what was going on.

Turner, looking like a lame Willie Nelson reject with an Australian accent, plays Ted, a biker type who rides his Harley into the desolate western locale of Pioneertown. Soon Ted lands a job at the local bar, becoming quite the friendly guy with the locals, drinking beer and quipping some of the worst jokes known to man. Around the same time of his appearance, a couple of the locals start turning up dead and even though they apparently look as if an animal mauled them, all eyes start to look suspiciously towards Ted. Now, there is a reason for Ted being here...I’m thinking he was tracking the werewolf or something, but ah, I never figured it out. There’s also a priest and cop, both of whom I’m sure have never acted before or since, who are also after the werewolf. I’d like to say there is more to it than that, but ah, fuck...no I don’t.

Apparently director Turner and some other guy who was slated to direct clashed over what type of film they were making. Turner wanted to shoot a movie about Pioneertown, which is an actual place, and the other dude wanted to make a werewolf movie. LIVE Entertainment, the bastards responsible for the other “Howling” sequels, wanted a movie that wrapped all the previous sequels together, which is sorta funny since every subsequent film had a completely different story. In the end, we basically get Turner’s little dream project of shooting a documentary on this small town mixed with a slight werewolf story, with heavy emphasis on the word “slight”. Turner had the brilliant idea of casting the townspeople to play themselves in the film, resulting in acting ineptitude the likes I’ve neither seen before or since. These people are ugly as fuck, are constantly drunk, and line dance in the frigging dark, a sequence that’s been described by another reviewer as the “line dance from hell”. Ughh. Imagine the results if you stuck your next-door neighbor on camera and yelled “action”, cus’ that’s what old Clive did here. I also found myself feeling blessed for the weak audio, as this puppy brings forth some of the worst dialogue known to man. If you haven’t fallen asleep by the film’s end you’ll be rewarded with possibly “the” worst wolf transformation I’ve ever witnessed brought forth by some incredibly cheap CGI. This one is a complete waste of time and probably buried the “Howling” series for good. Nothing against you personally Clive, but please do not ever act, write, direct, or produce another film, this I beg of you.