The Best Scene in 'An American Werewolf in London' (1981) Isn't the One You Think
How to write a comedy of terrors
Please be advised, this post contains detailed references to fictional suicide.
If this horror-themed post isn’t for you, check out these alternatives.
As horror-comedies go, An American Werewolf in London is a peculiar beast.
It’s not a loony gross-out routine like Evil Dead II (1987) or Braindead (1992). It’s steeped in werewolf movie-lore, but it’s not a parody like Young Frankenstein (1974), Scary Movie(2000) or What We Do in the Shadows (2014). It’s full of funhouse monsters, but it’s more than just a jokey creature-feature like Gremlins (1984), Lake Placid (1999) or Eight Legged Freaks (2002).
The scares in American Werewolf feel distinct and personal, reverberating deeper than mere surface thrills. Its playful humour shows just how comedy can be applied to horror to make viewers and readers bear the otherwise unbearable.
The movie’s unconventional approach to horror-comedy culminates in its very best scene, a saucy number that everyone remembers, but which gets talked about a good deal less than FX legend Rick Baker’s still-showstopping transformation scene.
Having established his career with three balls-out comedies, The Kentucky Fried Movie(1977), Animal House (1978) and The Blues Brothers (1980), writer-director John Landis switches to a more sensible gear, telling a seemingly straightforward cautionary about American backpackers, David and Jack (David Naughton and Griffin Dunne).
Attacked by a monster on the Yorkshire moors, David survives while Jack is killed. Though Jack returns from the grave with a face like an Amazon parcel that lost a fight with a Dobermann, and warns David that he has inherited the werewolf’s curse.
Beneath the next full moon, David will be unable to prevent himself from rampaging through London unless he takes certain, drastic measures.
The movie casts a jaunty Yank’s eye over nascent Thatcherite Britain, finding both quaintness and decadence as David convalesces in the arms of elfin nurse Alex (Jenny Agutter). The romantic humour is stilted, disarmingly sweet, and punctuated by flashes of pant-pissing terror.
The movie plays like a rom-com directed by Hannibal Lector…
