Misunderstood Monsters: A Painful Transformation in ‘The Boy Who Cried Werewolf’
By Matt Konopka
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Welcome fellow monster kids to Misunderstood Monsters. This is where I, Matt Konopka, sink my fangs into all sorts of beasts, ghouls, and creatures from above while I search for the humanity behind their frightening exteriors. From monster favorites such as The Wolf Man to obscure monsters like the whistling Shadmock, there is more to these fiends than bad hair days and gooey tentacles. Within them all is a piece of ourselves.
“Little boys are always seeing monsters, and it’s easy to imagine that they’re your parents.”
As a voracious horror fan gobbling up every monster movie I could find as a kid, I saw them everywhere. On the movie screen. In the trees blanketed by shadows outside my window. Under my bed. But at a certain point, those monsters became more than the snarling imaginings of an impressionable mind. For a brief time, the monsters in my life were my parents, just like star Richie’s (Scott Sealey) father becomes for him in The Boy Who Cried Werewolf (1973).
Written by Bob Homel (his lone feature) and the last film directed by Nathan Juran (perhaps better known for The 7th Voyage of Sinbad or Attack of the 50 Foot Woman), The Boy Who Cried Werewolf follows a young boy (Sealey) who is struggling with the separation of his parents. After his father, Robert (Kerwin Mathews) takes Richie to a cabin for the weekend, they’re attacked by a werewolf, leaving the creature dead and daddy with a nasty bite. At first, Richie sees his father as a hero…until he starts sprouting fangs and howling at the moon. Assuming he’s traumatized by witnessing his father kill a “man,” no one believes Ritchie’s claims that his dad is a werewolf, leaving him on his own to prove it.
The Boy Who Cried Werewolf isn’t a “good” film. Between copious amounts of aromatic cheese and a dollar store werewolf that inspires giggles instead of screams, Juran’s effort struggles to stand on all fours, more or less two feet. Yet there’s a howling honesty that drifts out of the film and the torn hearts of its characters, a painful truth expressed between Richie and his father that reflects parents and children in these situations. Their once-loving relationship has been torn apart by both a physical and figurative change in Robert resulting from the separation. He’s no longer “Dad.” He’s a monster.
The werewolf is an apt metaphor for divorce because it transforms everyone it touches. I should know. My parents split up when I was a kid. I’ll spare you the details, but it was ugly. A lot of shouting. A lot of tears. Similar to Richie’s situation, my mom kept the house, and my dad was forced to move out. It didn’t take long for me to notice a change in him. He grew quieter. Stranger. I still recall the queasy feeling that growled in my gut one morning when I discovered he’d been driving by and decided to leave a giant hello written in the snow of our front yard. That might sound thoughtful, but it creeped me the hell out. This wasn’t my dad. It was as if he’d been taken over by invaders from Mars…or was harboring a monster on the inside. A werewolf, perhaps.
Robert’s change is one that starts before we meet the cast of The Boy Who Cried Werewolf. As he and Richie drive up to the cabin during the opening scene, they’re followed by the creature, skulking in the trees. Here, Juran implies that Robert has already begun his transformation. The beast within is on their minds. It exists in the tension between them. The first conversation the two have starts with Richie asking, “Do you think there’s any chance of you and mom getting back together again?” To which Robert replies, “Things are different now…there are other things you just don’t understand.” He’s right. Kids don’t understand. My sister and I sure didn’t. Realizing that your parents are separated for good slashes like the claws of a werewolf across the chest. In Richie’s case, the moment is followed by being attacked by a literal monster.
While never acknowledged outright, Juran implies a bestial side to Robert, one reeking of sexism and carnal desires. Upon greeting Richie’s mother, Sandy (Elaine Devry), after they return home, Robert not only demeans her for her career independence saying it’s why they divorced but also pressures her to let him spend the night. Later, he can’t take his eyes off the wooden breasts of a carving in his divorce counselor’s office.
The “other things” Richie doesn’t understand is that his dad has been an asshole. But that doesn’t make him a monster. The werewolf can be seen as the physical incarnation of Robert’s grief over his mistakes, a point which Duran hammers home with the classic duality of the mirror, in which Robert’s first transformation results in a beast staring back at him through his own reflection.
Beyond Richie, The Boy Who Cried Werewolf is about a man forced to confront the actions that have led to his separation, as well as the rage that has sparked inside.
Over the course of the film, the creature becomes that uncontrollable part of Robert that assures his family’s destruction. Eventually, Richie is attacked by his wolfed-out father and finds himself lost in the woods. Terrified and alone, he yearns for the family he knew, finding a shade of that through a camping couple. The jealousy of Robert’s werewolf cannot allow this. Whether it’s the happy couple or the group of religious weirdos who try to save him by welcoming him into “God’s family,” the beast claws through each and every representation of togetherness. With his anger over the divorce and whatever errors he’s made in the past, the werewolf becomes a furious arbiter of those feelings. Robert wants what Richie wants. The tragedy is that he can’t get out of his own way. The werewolf eats it all.
I can only imagine what my dad was going through during the divorce. If I had to guess, I’d say he felt a lot like Robert and his werewolf: a man consumed by the torture of a fuming sadness he fought to control but couldn’t. I didn’t understand the pain my dad was in during that time. I wish I had, so I could’ve told him then that he wasn’t a monster. That he was still my dad. Thankfully, my father beat his curse and came out of it a better person. In Robert’s case, the pain expressed through his werewolf is too strong, too ravenous, too imbedded to overcome.
The Boy Who Cried Werewolf is a silly film, but it leaves you with a devastating finale in which Robert is impaled through the chest, his torment emphasized by a literal slicing of the heart. In the end, Richie’s cry of “werewolf” was never about fear for himself. Not really. It’s a cry of fear that Robert’s monster would destroy his dad if no one paid enough attention to help…one that too often goes unheard when it comes from the mouth of a child. 🩸
About
Matt is a writer and wannabe werewolf who began his love of horror at the ripe old age of 3 with Carpenter’s Christine. He has a horror podcast called Killer Horror Critic which he does with his wonderful wife and has previously been published on Bloody Disgusting, Shudder’s The Bite, and Daily Grindhouse. You can also find more of his reviews and ramblings at his blog, KillerHorrorCritic.com.
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