I saw An American Werewolf in London at a ridiculously young age, like 6 or 7. My parents let my sister and I have a tv with cable in our bedroom (why? lack of parenting skill?). She went to watch it with them, but I watched it alone. Those knowing winks that you mention are lost on a kid that little. I didn’t even make it to the big transformation scene. At the moment when the lead dreams that he’s in the forest on an operating table and wakes up to attack the nurse…I leapt across the room to turn off the tv. And proceeded to have nightmares for a year that a werewolf was chasing me through a forest.