Laughing and screaming are involuntary motions we make. A film that draws both is pulling the right strings. That is why An American Werewolf in London has left many of us smirking for decades. This flick pulled it off.
I generated interest in it as a boy from having first watched the long-form music video for Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” That video’s juxtaposition of nightmare-inducing special effects coupled with a catchy pop chorus, which was suspended over superbly choreographed zombies flailing their arms left and right, was magically spooky fun. Afterward, I dug deeper and discovered that Michael Jackson had hired John Landis to helm his project due to his work in London. It all made sense after seeing this film; Michael Jackson wanted some of the magic.
There was an expectation upon release that An American Werewolf in London would follow suit with the previous Landis work Animal House, which was raunchy, bold, and deviously funny. However, while laughs are found in this film, the supplemental gore and violence strike quickly.
Landis makes no promises on tone here, with the opening credits song “Blue Moon” playing across dreamy shots of the English countryside. The opening washes over us as Landis seemingly whispers in our ear that he has a secret to share, following up with a grin that says, “Not yet.” The tension on our hero, David (David Naughton), is felt throughout the opening fifteen minutes before – you guessed it – he gets attacked violently by a werewolf. Landis continues using quick moments of shock and blood to balance out the awkward, humorous cultural exchanges befitting an American tourist. This is a thread Landis pulls through all three acts.
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There is a marvelous sequence that drops us into the psychological trauma David endured from his attack via a series of nightmares. I still maintain that these nightmare sequences are truly terrifying due to their hyper-realism and that they’re delivered on a steamroller over your senses. When the inevitable happens, and David transforms into the eponymous beast, the beats of terror and violence that follow are sharp, gory, and raw. By the time you catch on to the secret Landis wanted to share, it is too late.
The story is simple. Two American boys, David and Jack, on a college trip to Europe, walk through the English moors, waxing about love and future stops on their journey. After a stumble into the local village pub, aptly named The Slaughtered Lamb, the boys soon wear out their welcome. Despite the literal writing on the wall that screams “danger!” the eerie pub clientele give David and Jack ominous marching orders, and the boys go on their way.
The boys are soon attacked, leaving Jack dead and David surviving, only to wake up later in a London hospital. A simple set-up and fun pay-off ensues. Jack visits David in the hospital, donning incredible make-up as a freshly killed corpse. Jack warns David of the fate that befalls all werewolf attack survivors – to walk the Earth as an undead corpse – suggesting David kill himself before the next full moon lest David also turns into a monster. The warning isn’t heeded by David.
What separates London from other werewolf cinema entries is that it joyfully plays with the uncomfortable reality of being an outsider on two fronts: an American tourist and a werewolf. This theme is where the humor shines. Do you think being a foreigner is a challenge? Have you woken up naked in a foreign zoo with no recollection of how you got there?
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David is played by David Naughton, the former hero of Dr. Pepper commercials. With Griffin Dunne as Jack, they fill the hiking shoes of our two American leads. They share the chemistry usually found wafting through college dorm hallways or on the lacrosse practice field. I had buy-in with their friendship immediately. Jenny Agutter, playing the helpful and tad naïve nurse Alex Price, who takes David in after his release from the hospital, shows warmth in her eyes constantly. The rest of the characters serve their purposes well enough. But this movie isn’t about the background as much. The characters we care about are with us practically the entire time. We share David’s journey.
The ambitious Rick Baker is the unsung hero and the star behind the camera. His revolutionary practical effects display all the blood, gore, and werewolves we wish to see and then some. It should be noted that Baker’s efforts were not only a huge selling point for pop star Michael Jackson, but they also landed Baker the first-ever Academy Award for Best Make-Up. Old werewolf effects from early twentieth century films relied on smart cutting and dissolve effects. Here, we are placed right in front of the horrors David endures as he transforms. The gradual decay of Jack’s corpse – initially dripping wet with blood from fresh wounds, morphing into a zombified puppet — invades our eyes and somehow sews in humor simultaneously. Remarkable.
Remember the opening song, “Blue Moon?” Well, we are treated to no less than three versions of this song by the end credits. Not to mention, every other song used bears the name “Moon” in the title. Talk about driving the point home. The soundtrack choices have left many viewers curious about how Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” didn’t make the tracklist. Was it that on the nose? The music selections play off the vibes of humor and slip in the cracks of horror that are presented. Tasteful but not suffocating.
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In the pantheon of werewolf films, London has carved itself a spot amongst the top ever made. Despite being released in 1981, which was the beginning of a werewolf surge in cinema, An American Werewolf in London has tightly wound themes of identity, friendship, and ethics that echo through the dialogue.
Ironically, two of the best scenes in this film don’t involve any werewolves. The first is a solo performance of David in a phone box calling home to his family, whom he will never see again. Its heart-wrenching stab is subtle but deep. The following scene, which has David talking to the undead Jack for the last time inside an adult theater, is the other moment of surprising humanity: David finally acknowledges his truth and is held accountable. This separates London from its peers. The effects, the music, and the slick direction help this lone wolf (if you will) of a film break from the pack.
It is fun and frightening. At a 90-minute runtime, London certainly does swoop in and vacate just as fast. The ending is abrupt and might make some viewers wish for more. That aside, the one-two punch of horror and humor has a lasting bite.
