I feel like I’m rolling the dice on Howling sequels at this point. I can probably count the number of trilogy-toppers that didn’t feel like a complete rip-off on one hand. The fact that this one went the PG-13 route, after two sufficiently bloody films, does not bode well for the series. Indeed, there is the briefest of nudity, obscured by a thin mat of werewolf hair, and not a drop of blood anywhere in its hour-and-a-half runtime.
This time the action moves to Australia, opening in an outback town called Flow. That’s an odd name for a town without a river in sight, unless you realize that Flow flipped backwards spells Wolf… I did not catch this until very late in the movie, mind you, and felt very silly when at last I did. The gorgeous Jerboa (Imogen Annesley) has just escaped the town’s cult-like traditions and finds herself on the first bus to Sydney. Sensing her distress, a priest on the bus assures her he can help if only she would tell him what’s wrong. “My stepfather tried to rape me and he’s a werewolf,” she says. The priest promptly shuts up and minds his own business. What Jerboa did not confess, however, is that she’s also a werewolf.
These aren’t the same variety of werewolves we saw in the previous two pictures. These werewolves are marsupials who carry their infants in kangaroo-like pouches. Other than a vague reference to California, Howling III bears no relation to what came before it. Its opening credits claim it was based on Gary Brandner’s The Howling III: Echoes novel, but as far as I know, that novel has little in common with this film. This marsupial angle truly is uncharted territory for the franchise, not to mention odd.
After spending the night on a bench outside Sydney Opera House, Jerboa is picked up by a talent scout who immediately puts her in a movie production while the two enter a relationship. Meanwhile, three of Jerboa’s sister-wives disguise themselves as nuns to track her down. She’s also being tracked by Harry Beckmeyer (Barry Otto), an American anthropologist who’s on a first-name basis with the President of the United States. It’s not long before Beckmeyer crosses paths with Jerboa, who is now pregnant with her boyfriend’s child.
Speaking of Jerboa’s boyfriend, the young man must have been a virgin because he lays in bed with her as she sleeps, poking and prodding the hairy kangaroo pouch on her abdomen with boyish fascination. Later, Beckmeyer will interrogate Jerboa’s boyfriend about the woman’s unusual anatomy: “When you had sex with her… was it normal?” I’m not sure this guy is qualified to answer that question.
If all this seems needlessly convoluted for a horror movie, I’m happy to report it’s entertainingly convoluted like a good crime film with a large cast of characters. It will effortlessly fold in the Australian military and the spirit of a giant werewolf that has a brief but hilarious pay-off. There’s nary a dull moment, never any time for one’s attention to wander. I hate to spoil that Jerboa’s kid will be born before the movie is over, but I have to promote the wonderful puppetry of the baby werewolf. The humor is just as present and mercifully subtle as it was in the previous films.
Howling 3: The Marsupials is not a routine cash-in. The only reason I don’t think it’s quite as good as the first two movies is the lack of gratuitous exploitation. I’m sure there are at least a handful of weirdos out there who think this is the best movie of the trilogy. It’s so good, I’m going to roll the dice again and watch the fourth picture in the series next week. Luck be with me.
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