If Amicus ever had a fever dream about outclassing Hammer Studios, I, Monster was it: Christopher Lee in a Jekyll-and-Hyde riff, Peter Cushing lurking with polite suspicion, and a whole lot of smoke machines working overtime. The result? A movie that bombed at the box office but still feels like a velvet-gloved punch of gothic weirdness—with just enough sleaze and melodrama to keep it from being embalmed alongside the other dusty Victorian adaptations.
Let me begin with the unvarnished truth: Ben is a film about a boy and his rat. Not just a rat, mind you — the rat. The tiny, twitchy mastermind of a rodent revolution. A furry, black-eyed general in the ongoing war between mankind and creatures that chew through drywall.
In lesser hands, this would have been a straight-up horror sequel to 1971’s Willard, complete with gnawed limbs and shrieking exterminators. But Ben took a different route. A bold route. A confusing route. This is a horror film by way of an after-school special — a heartfelt drama about chronic illness, friendship, and vermin-led homicide.
Also, did I mention that Michael Jackson sings the theme song?
Plot: Old Yeller, but if Yeller Had a Million Murderous Friends in the Sewer
We pick up immediately after the events of Willard, as the police enter the infamous rat house and find the original sad-boy-in-chief, Willard, very much chewed to death. That’s right — Bruce Davison returns briefly via archive footage just to remind us that yes, the rats won last time.
This time, the plot shifts to Danny Garrison, a precocious, lonely child with a heart condition and a full-time hobby in puppetry, which is somehow not the weirdest part of this story. Danny meets Ben, the leader of the rat colony, and immediately adopts him as a friend, confidante, emotional support animal, and living weapon.
Danny sings songs to Ben. Danny makes marionettes of Ben. Danny hides Ben from the police, the neighbors, and his poor mother who is two tantrums away from checking into a wine-and-Valium spa.
Meanwhile, Ben and his increasingly aggressive rat army go full street gang. They rob food trucks. They ransack grocery stores. They attack bullies. (Okay, that one’s satisfying.) Then they start killing people. It’s like The Godfather, but everyone squeaks and poops in corners.
Eventually, the authorities do what authorities do in horror movies: they ignore every red flag, send men with flamethrowers into the sewer, and burn everything that moves. Cue rat barbecue.
But Ben? He survives. He claws his way back from the flaming underworld, battered and bleeding, just in time for Danny to sob over his twitching, cuddly corpse-substitute and promise to nurse him back to health.
And then Michael Jackson starts singing.
Performances: Man, That Kid Really Loved His Rat
Lee Montgomery as Danny delivers a performance so sincere, it almost makes you forget that he’s singing lullabies to a sewer gang ringleader with a body count. He’s a fragile, emotional little dude, and Montgomery plays him like a boy who’s been left behind by the world — until a rodent death-commander scurries into his heart.
Joseph Campanella as Detective Kirtland tries very hard to act like he’s in a serious police procedural, despite spending half his screen time screaming at rats. He plays it straight, and I admire that. Somewhere around the flamethrower assault on a rodent stronghold, you can actually see him questioning every career decision that led him here.
Arthur O’Connell and Meredith Baxter pop in for some “concerned adult” energy, but let’s be real — no one’s watching this for the humans. We’re here for Ben: the furry warlord, the misunderstood antihero, the rat who just wants snacks, hugs, and maybe to drown a guy in his own pantry.
Direction & Tone: Horror? Drama? Existential Crisis?
Director Phil Karlson brings us a sequel that feels like it was made by someone who watched Willard and said, “You know what this rat murder story needs? More feelings.” He takes the horror elements — and there are some, including some deeply unsettling rat attack scenes — and wraps them in a warm, fuzzy coat of emotionally manipulative schmaltz.
This movie swerves between tones like a drunk in a shopping cart. One minute, it’s a tearjerker about disability and loneliness. The next, it’s a rat attacking a guy’s jugular in a sewer tunnel. Then it’s a musical montage with Danny stroking Ben lovingly while singing about eternal friendship.
You haven’t truly lived until you’ve watched a child weep into a rat’s fur while Michael Jackson croons, “Ben, the two of us need look no more…”
Yes. That song. That Michael Jackson song. Written for a movie about a homicidal sewer demon with whiskers.
Themes: Loneliness, Revenge, and Unholy Vermin Uprisings
There’s a message buried somewhere in Ben about empathy, the pain of isolation, and the search for unconditional love — even if it comes with a twitchy nose and a penchant for stabbing grocers in the dark.
Danny finds in Ben what he can’t find in people: loyalty. Companionship. Willingness to maul bullies on command. But the film also reminds us that no matter how much you love your emotionally complex rat overlord, there’s a limit to how many bodies you can hide before things get complicated.
Also, don’t forget: the rats in this film kill people. A lot of people. So yes, it’s cute, but also terrifying.
Like if ET ended with the alien going full Predator on half the neighborhood.
Final Thoughts: Best Friend or Tiny Furry Mob Boss?
Ben is a gloriously weird film — a horror sequel that becomes a children’s melodrama, then turns back into a horror film halfway through a musical interlude. It’s absurd. It’s oddly charming. It’s emotionally manipulative in a way that feels like being hugged by something you know just crawled out of a sewer.
Is it good? Well… not in the traditional sense. But it is unforgettable. And that counts for something.
★★★☆☆ (3 out of 4 stars)
You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll never trust a rat again. Also, good luck getting that theme song out of your head. It will haunt you forever.
