It took only one late night cringing in front of Creature Features, peeking over a blanket at a hideously smiling corpse, to convince me that I do not like horror movies! The images burn themselves into my memory and come back to life whenever the lights go out. So, at 19, I surprised both myself and the eager young man at my door when I suggested An American Werewolf in London for our first date. It looked like fun: cute guys, rock-n-roll, and a little edgy horror.
Thirty-four years later, I still chuckle, remembering the evening that followed.
I knew I’d chosen well as soon as the movie opened playing a lilting rendition of Blue Moon, while the camera explored a pastoral, Welsh countryside. Sure, we see that our story will take place on foggy moors, but, really, with that light-hearted music swinging along, what could go wrong?
I knew I’d chosen well as soon as the movie opened playing a lilting rendition of Blue Moon, while the camera explored a pastoral, Welsh countryside. Sure, we see that our story will take place on foggy moors, but, really, with that light-hearted music swinging along, what could go wrong?
The let’s-just-have-some-fun mood is carried along as the two main characters emerge from a farmer’s sheep wagon, shouldering their backpacks to begin their search for warmth and supper. Yes, the fog drapes eerily over the darkening landscape, and an icy wind chills the mood. But the boys’ teasing banter dispels any discomfort the scene’s similarity to gothic, English mysteries might evoke.
Shortly, as in all good horror movies, the kids ignore well-meant advice: “Stay on the road. Keep clear of the moors.” Sure enough, sticky wisps of fog lift to reveal a full, yellow moon. “Beware the moon, lads…”
All the elements of horror clicked into place; we all knew what would happen next. So why wasn’t I drawn into the terror mounting as the growling werewolf circled closer and closer to these hapless victims? Because the risque banter, fresh-faced teenaged boys, and feel-good music just wouldn’t allow me to take any aspect of the film too seriously. Even when poor Jack is mauled -- his throat shredded, blood slick over his face and lifeless body -- I just couldn’t get too upset.
All the elements of horror clicked into place; we all knew what would happen next. So why wasn’t I drawn into the terror mounting as the growling werewolf circled closer and closer to these hapless victims? Because the risque banter, fresh-faced teenaged boys, and feel-good music just wouldn’t allow me to take any aspect of the film too seriously. Even when poor Jack is mauled -- his throat shredded, blood slick over his face and lifeless body -- I just couldn’t get too upset.
Unfortunately, my date had the opposite reaction to the sudden turn from guffaw to gore. The film’s Oscar-winning makeup artist held nothing back. Jack’s gouged neck gapes open, his recently leering face lies torn and bloody. This is no joke; we are dealing with a monster. My date’s face reflected his disgust at the brutality of this abrupt jolt into horror.
The film’s playful soundtrack keeps the audience on a roller-coaster between horror and humor. I nearly laughed out loud listening to Credence Clearwater taunting: “I see a bad mood risin’; I see trouble on the way...” as a full moon rises and David howls with the intense pain of his transformation. One reviewer expressed amazement that “adorable fifties and sixties music can be made spooky in the context of a horror film” (fast-rewind.com, 2009). I disagree, I think the music adds more to the humor than to the horror. A delightful dramatic irony builds as we hear crooning “moon” lyrics setting up gruesome werewolf scenes.
The attack scene over, we recovered (or uncovered our eyes), safe from the sight of Jack’s gruesome carcass, and were whisked back into comedy in David’s hospital room, laughing at the horny nurses and the buffoon from the American Embassy whose response to David’s raging shock is: “These dumbassed kids never listen.”
The Scotland Yard clowns soon follow, and we are lulled back into edgy, teen-aged comedy. Perhaps the worst is over, we reasoned. No such luck. Jack’s post-mortem visit strikes a new note of dark humor. How do we respond to a murdered friend who unabashedly sports gruesome wounds, plays puppet with a brightly colored Mickey Mouse -- “Hi David!” -- and then pleads with David to kill himself before he turns into a monster and kills others.
Jack’s words sum up the tone created by his sarcastic, talking corpse: “Life mocks me even in death.” Is this film mocking horror? Not exactly. Landis employs a truly witty form of gallows humor to imagine how two thoroughly modern guys would respond to mythical horror.
In his IMDb.com review of “one of my favorite films”, Brandt Sponseller calls these unexpected mood shifts “comedy/tragedy juxtaposition.” Since “both the comedy and the horror are fully committed to,” the film’s viewers must decide which element to fixate on.
In his IMDb.com review of “one of my favorite films”, Brandt Sponseller calls these unexpected mood shifts “comedy/tragedy juxtaposition.” Since “both the comedy and the horror are fully committed to,” the film’s viewers must decide which element to fixate on.
My date and I faced irreconcilable differences: I focused on the wry humor; he saw only what another reviewer called “intense body horror” (Mark Olsen, latimes.com). Later, he admitted that he nearly got up and left the theater. No doubt if we had known each other better, or if he had not needed to maintain a 20-year-old’s machismo, he would have walked out in protest.
His disgust no doubt deepened with each successive visit from Jack, his decaying face revealing bones protruding from putrid flesh. Finally, David is left in a porno theater (the raunchy movie adding hilariously incongruous heavy breathing and naked bodies to this improbable scene) talking with Jack’s rotting corpse and six freshly bloodied, undead victims -- all offering advice on how to best kill himself.
His disgust no doubt deepened with each successive visit from Jack, his decaying face revealing bones protruding from putrid flesh. Finally, David is left in a porno theater (the raunchy movie adding hilariously incongruous heavy breathing and naked bodies to this improbable scene) talking with Jack’s rotting corpse and six freshly bloodied, undead victims -- all offering advice on how to best kill himself.
How could I not love this dry, twisted humor? I have always preferred wry wit (I blame my wise-cracking father for this), so I responded more to the film’s dialogue --”I will not be threatened by a walking meatloaf!”-- than to its shocking visual effects.
Well, the rest is history. I endured a short, mismatched relationship with a guy whose ever-hopeful lust overcame his revulsion for my taste in movies. Landis went on to earn fame for inciting a revolution in horror movie style. In 1981, humor was the new horror.