Ben (1972)

Ben is the rare creature-feature sequel that sneaks up on you with real feeling: beneath the squeals and scurrying shadows is a surprisingly tender story about a lonely, heart-sick boy who finds companionship where no one else would look. Director Phil Karlson stages the rat attacks with lean, nerve-jangling efficiency, turning ordinary places—homes, stores, sewers—into anxious little pressure cookers, while Lee Montgomery gives a performance so sincere it anchors the madness and makes the film oddly poignant. The vibe is grimy 1970s urban horror with a melancholy pulse, equal parts suspense machine and sad fable about friendship and control. It’s not for the squeamish (the rat swarms are intense), but if you want a thriller that’s both scary and more emotionally ambitious than it has any right to be, Ben delivers.

Ben is clearly trying to fuse a sad, almost tender “boy and his pet” story with a nasty creature-feature follow-up to Willard, and on paper that contrast could’ve been memorable. In practice, it leans harder on rat-swarm gross-out and the sheer ick factor than on real suspense, so if you want clever tension or standout horror set pieces, you may find it flat and a bit shoddy in the acting and staging. The pacing can feel repetitive—rats attack, humans react—without building to anything especially inventive, which makes the violence feel more unpleasant than thrilling. Still, if you’re in the mood for a weirdly earnest, downbeat 70s oddity with a surprisingly emotional angle amid the grime, it has a curious charm.