French Werewolves

An American Werewolf in Paris

Though similar and misleading in title, An American Werewolf in Paris (1997) is NOT a sequel to the far superior An American Werewolf in London (1981). Double shame upon them for tricking us. OK, tricking me. Hey, I take the bait when others won’t, so up yours, “smarter than me” people.

Three U.S. college grads go to France to bungee jump off the Eiffel Tower (illegal for some reason) and end up saving a supermodel who was trying to commit air-to-ground suicide because she’s a werewolf.

An American Werewolf in Paris

One of the guys falls for her as she was falling to her death. Poetic. The girl, still distraught over still having to shave her legs, runs away without so much as a thank you or a complimentary boob flash. That’s the French for you.

An American Werewolf in Paris

Later, the boys go to the well-attended social function (booze and disco party) in an old building. Once inside the door is barricaded behind them and the French-party throwers turn into werewolves and eat the imported cuisine.

An American Werewolf in Paris

Before this happens, the love-smitten guy is hurried away by the previously rescued chick through stinky underground Parisian tunnels filled with rats and recycled croissants. The race is on to stop the bad werewolves from eating more Americans and to get a taste ’o that French pastry bouncing around the blouse of the gal the “in love” dude’s been chasing throughout the entire movie.

An American Werewolf in Paris

Amusing horror action and dumb comedy bits, but the real problem here is the werewolves. Digitally created, you get the impression you’re in a video game being gnawed upon by a level boss. And the boobies are both bare and hairy. One of those I do not prefer.


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