Up until the early-1980s, 'horror comedies' were ropey, nuts-and-bolts parodies of old horror movies or conventions. This trend was present throughout American cinema, from the Abbott and Costello movies of the 1940s and 1950s to exploitation films like Little Shops of… More
Up until the early-1980s, 'horror comedies' were ropey, nuts-and-bolts parodies of old horror movies or conventions. This trend was present throughout American cinema, from the Abbott and Costello movies of the 1940s and 1950s to exploitation films like Little Shops of Horrors and Please Don't Eat My Mother. But in 1981, the face of horror comedy was irrevocably changed by two striking, challenging and terrifying films. One was The Evil Dead, Sam Raimi's classic shocker which became a bête noire of the British censors and scared the living daylights out of critics and audiences alike. The other was An American Werewolf in London.
John Landis was no real stranger to horror comedy. Way before he made his name as a comedy director, he had directed and starred in Schlock, a no-budget goofy spoof of old B-movies about the 'missing link' between apes and man. Landis loved old horror films but frequently despaired at the unbelievable look of the monsters. Schlock was his first encounter with Rick Baker, a make-up and effects designer of such skill and quality that the Academy Award for Visual Effects was created specifically to recognise his work. Following the box office success of Kentucky Fried Movie, Animal House and The Blues Brothers, Landis was finally in a position to make the film just the way he wanted.
Although The Evil Dead and Werewolf came out in the same year, their approaches to 'horror comedy' are totally different. In The Evil Dead, the scares and shocks are funny all the way through; Raimi described it as "a Three Stooges movie, with blood and guts standing in for custard pies." When Bruce Campbell brandishes the chainsaw over the eponymous dead, we get all the gore and guts needed to make us scared and shocked, but the deaths are executed in such an inventive and goofy way that we also laugh a little, beholding the unusual deaths of these seemingly normal people.
Werewolf, on the other hand, begins as a comedy and steadily brings in more and more horror elements until the two successfully mesh together in the last half-hour. The opening sequences of David and Jack walking over the moors and discussing their conquests is very similar to Animal House, albeit in subject matter rather than tone. The horror elements do begin to encroach, but even when we first see Jack as a corpse it's still more comedy than horror because the sight of him is more ridiculous than scary. We have to wait until the final third, for the car crashes in Piccadilly Circus and David talking to his victims in the porno theatre, for the film to be simultaneously scary and funny, rather than alternately so.
This alternation does however aid the build-up of the film, allowing Landis to withhold the transformation and the resulting havoc until the last half-hour, relaxing his audience only to unleash urban hell. It also allows some of the best jokes in the script to be worked to their natural conclusion -- 'the Famous Balloon Thief' wouldn't have worked half as well if it also had to be scary. But there are several instances in the build-up to the transformation which are, shall we say, unexpected. The most left-field of these is the nightmare sequence, in which storm-troopers break into David's family home and cut his throat. Sure it's scary, but there is no connection made between this and the earlier dreams which relate more closely to David's transformation.
This problem aside, the film is very close to being a masterpiece. It is perfectly paced with a consistently funny script, and every development of this simple but fascinating story is readily accepted. We buy into David's relationship with Nurse Price played by Jenny Agutter, even given the slightly gratuitous sex scene set to Van Morrison's 'Moondance'. We understand the neurotic paranoia of the locals in the Slaughter Lamb and the divisions between them; their scenes are staged as abruptly and awkwardly comic, taking an approach that Ricky Gervais has used for his entire career. Even when the victims of the werewolf turn out to be British beyond stereotype (suited, snooty and upper-middle-class), we go with it because the tension is sustained to a brilliant level.
Much ink has been spilt over the transformation sequence, with reviewers consistently praising Rick Baker's visual effects and the tour de force performance of David Naughton. One might say that it is the 1980s equivalent of the chest-burster scene from Alien, in terms of the attention and admiration that it has garnered from cinephiles. All the things which were impressive about it then remain impressive now -- you can't see the joins in the make-up, the changes are well-paced, and the whole sequence is simultaneously scary and strangely funny. In fact, the Alien comparison is not entirely facetious, since the virtue of both these sequences is that we keep caring about the characters even when the effects are at their most elaborate.
Naughton's performance is the best in the film, but he is very evenly matched by Griffin Dunne. Much like Bob Hoskins in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Dunne succeeds because he is completely blasé about his current state of being. He doesn't bring the film to a grinding halt every five seconds by remarking on how strange it is to be dead; he just accepts it and delivers his lines in the same droll manner that they did in life. Jenny Agutter is good as Nurse Price,handling her character with suitable aplomb and managing to make a lot out of what could be a very small part. There are also some entertaining turns in the supporting cast, which includes Rik Mayall before The Young Ones and Brian Glover, who would later play Superintendent Andrews in Alien 3.
An American Werewolf in London may not be a masterpiece, but it manages to be both a full-blooded horror movie and a very funny comic take on a well-worn story. It may not be quite as radical or as shocking as The Evil Dead, even in the nightmare scenes, but it joins the company of Young Frankenstein as a great and hilarious horror comedy, which simultaneously pays tribute to the clichés of a genre while savagely sending them up. Its reputation is assured and deserved, and its visuals are instantly recognisable. One thing is for sure, Burke and Hare will have to be really something to dislodge this as Landis' best film.