The Werewolf of Woodstock—it’s a title so ridiculous it practically begs for a bad review. Directed by John Moffitt and produced by Dick Clark’s company, this ABC made-for-TV “horror” film somehow managed to combine the two most sacred American traditions of the ’70s: the werewolf genre and the drug-fueled, peace-loving, peace-losing Woodstock festival. What could go wrong? Well, everything. From the painful performances to the laughable plot, this one howls all the way to the bottom of TV movie history.
Plot: The Monster Is the Plot, and It’s Also the Villain
The story kicks off with Bert (Tige Andrews), a man who clearly has an extreme hate for anything Woodstock-related and a deep love for electrical storms. After being zapped by some high-voltage lines at the festival site, Bert’s chromosomes are forever scrambled (as if he didn’t have enough issues already). What happens next? Bert transforms into a werewolf, of course. Because why wouldn’t a man who’s just been electrocuted turn into a rampaging wolf-man?
This poor man’s journey of transformation leads him to rampage through the site of Woodstock, where the world’s worst hippie rock band is trying to record an album on the now-deserted stage. Yes, because nothing screams “authentic rock music” like a decrepit, electrical storm-ravaged ruin. The band quickly finds themselves in trouble—first, their dog is killed by the werewolf (because that’s what every horror film needs), and soon their female band member Beckie (Belinda Balaski) is kidnapped by the wolf-man. We can all agree that the plot doesn’t really hang together, but let’s pretend it does for the sake of… whatever.
The Characters: A Mixed Bag of Stereotypes and Missed Opportunities
The characters in The Werewolf of Woodstock are about as deep as a kiddie pool, with each one embodying a stereotype so blatant you’d think they were all created for a parody film. There’s the “big city detective” (Michael Parks), the “hippie-loving, storm-fearing” woman (Meredith MacRae), and, of course, the “local cop who doesn’t believe anything” (Harold J. Stone). These characters are as compelling as a wet napkin.
And then there’s Bert, who clearly missed the memo on subtlety. He’s a hippie-hating, alcoholic farmer who randomly turns into a werewolf when the lightning strikes, which is, to be fair, a very creative way to introduce a supernatural creature. But there’s no real character depth to his transformation, no exploration of the psychological or physical toll—just a lot of bad wigs, snarling, and chomping. His character arc basically consists of going from “mad farmer” to “werewolf villain,” with not a single nuance to spare. Kudos, Tige Andrews, for your commitment to… whatever it was you were doing here.
The Horror: Werewolf Shakiness and Laughable Lameness
You know a film is in trouble when the most thrilling moment is a werewolf running around and tripping over its own fur. The Werewolf of Woodstock tries to make its horror scenes work, but with its laughably bad make-up effects, the werewolf just looks like a cheap Halloween costume that someone glued to Tige Andrews’ face. This, of course, makes the supposed “terrifying” moments even more hilarious. Watching Bert transform into a beast isn’t chilling—it’s a reminder that bad horror films are often unintentionally funny.
And, don’t even get me started on the “climactic” battle between the werewolf and the detectives. After a ridiculous chase sequence involving dune buggies and a power station, the big confrontation ends with a silver bullet being shot (because werewolves have to die by silver bullets—duh) and Bert, now permanently in werewolf form, plummeting to his death. Sigh The horror is so tame and uninspired that it might as well be a lost episode of The Twilight Zone… but with a worse budget.
The Ending: Another Twist to Keep You from Ever Coming Back
In the grand tradition of bad TV movie endings, The Werewolf of Woodstock wraps things up with the same “surprise” twist that’s been overused in countless B-horror films. You know the one: the “bad guy” is defeated in a ridiculous way, but wait! The ending implies they might still be alive. In this case, the werewolf dies, but gasp he could still be out there! Except we’re too tired to care, and so are the characters, who fade into oblivion faster than the film’s plot.
Conclusion: A Werewolf Movie That Deserves a “Howl” of Laughter
The Werewolf of Woodstock is a trainwreck, but not the kind you can’t look away from. It’s the kind of trainwreck that has you checking your watch, wondering how much longer you’ll have to endure this god-awful film. It’s got the charm of a haunted thrift store—cheap effects, laughable acting, and a plot that’s almost as confused as the filmmakers were when they tried to mesh werewolves with Woodstock. The only real takeaway from this movie is that, despite everything, it still made it onto TV. How? Why? We’ll never know. But we do know this: if you’re looking for a film that’s so bad it’s funny, The Werewolf of Woodstock is the best thing to never be part of Woodstock’s legacy.
