Premiere: Some goose bumps never go away. The very first horror flick I ever saw was a lurid stinker about werewolves named The Howling. It is a terrible movie. But don’t tell that to my twelve-year old self. That little guy revered it. My memory of The Howling is vivid. That silly boob-and-blood B-movie bit me. I remember bubbling skin, bared fangs, and naked women. The latter was a revelation. In The Howling, there’s a vampy lady werewolf who takes it all off. Watching that scene was like watching a preview of my own adolescence. Here was the reason I would, very soon, go through my own transformation from hairless cub to hirsute wolf.
Makes a good point. No matter how old (or how bad now) that first horror movie is, it sticks with you. Makes an impression.