In Hammer Films’ Horror of Dracula, Peter Cushing, as Van Helsing, remarks, “That’s how he could hide in the castle vault for years. We’d lose him there.” The vampire’s way of outliving enemies with a conventional lifespan is a truly unstoppable weapon. This longevity factor — waiting, watching, and hoping to find one’s quarry — is evident in writer-director Omar Reid’s How to Make a Werewolf.
In Atlanta, witches and vampires hide behind a facade of being normal. Peace between the factions exists, however uneasy, and even dhampirs (part witch, part vampire) are represented within the treaty. But it is fragile, and forces are seeking to collapse it all. Enter Aana (Melahnie Bagley), who uses a potion on Xen (Jace A. Edwards). The next thing he knows, he wakes up with a severed head next to him. How did that happen? Why can’t he remember any of the prior events? What part does Aana intend Xen to play in bringing down the shadowy underworld of supernatural beings?

“What part does Aana intend Xen to play in bringing down the shadowy underworld of supernatural beings?”
How to Make a Werewolf is written to give the most character development possible. It does so to the extent that it forgets that it is a monster movie. Most of the sequences fade to black, distracting from the story of nonwhite people battling evil amongst their community in the form of vampires, werewolves, and witches. This makes the film feel long. It runs for over 2 hours, clocking in at a hefty 138 minutes long. This probably should’ve been a tight 90, maybe even 100 minutes long. Of course, horror offerings can be grand in their storytelling. I enjoy the work of many European genre filmmakers and their epic style. The wonderful Brotherhood of the Wolf comes to mind for its sheer characters, story, and sweeping implications. But a film has to earn it, and this doesn’t quite find the balance between dialogue and plot-driven action/monster mayhem.
However, the film has the feel of a dark soap opera like True Blood, or the classic Dark Shadows series crossed with the Blade films. Of course, the Underworld franchise’s influence is undeniable but not distracting. There are images of monsters in fetish gear, techno dancing, and women in underwear bleeding from the neck while being cradled by a white vampire boy that echo these beloved titles but are used to their own ends here. The world-building, massive roster of characters, and all the events that happen suggest Reid seems to be making a play for a franchise or TV series here. Given how Atlanta plays into the narrative and all the threads left dangling, more from this world is definitely a viable option.
How to Make a Werewolf is different than typical genre fare by utilizing Atlanta as more than just a backdrop. The fusion of ordinary people rubbing up against those who appear so but are keeping monstrous secrets can be compelling if only it were strongly connected to the action. Isolated moments do work well, and there is a taut 90-minute film here somewhere, as the story isn’t bad at all. The transitions between scenes need to be cut, and the actors need to be given the proper pace in their moments. The best sequence is the most authentic: someone being beaten for stealing sneakers in broad daylight in a city park, which happens all too often.