The howling you hear isn’t from the monster—it’s from fans watching a beloved classic get saddled with a clumsy sequel. We dive into An American Werewolf in Paris and sort the few effective frights from an avalanche of awkward humor, rubbery CGI, and logic that faceplants off the Eiffel Tower. We set the scene with a spoiler warning and a tart “Sinister Sip,” then get honest about why a meager 7 percent score feels fair: the chemistry is flat, the jokes miss, and the tone wanders between frat...