I love monster movies. I guess there's just something about the visceral thrills associated with waiting for some sort of uber-gross supernatural being to spring out of the shadows and make a bloody mess of things. When the monster/horror genre is mixed with comedy, the result—as we've seen in recent years—is often gold. Whether it's Shaun of the Dead, Zombieland, or any variety of B-movie schlock, a good time is (generally) had by all.
And that's the case with John Landis' 1981 film An American Werewolf in London. It's silly and punctuated by instances of extremely dark humor, and it rarely makes any attempt to work true "emotion" into the narrative. This, of course, is a good thing.
After a somewhat slow opening, we witness two friends—who are backpacking across Europe—stumble upon a shady pub called "The Slaughtered Lamb." When they walk through the door, the effect is pretty much the cliché turntable-coming-to-a-screeching-halt scenario that you've seen a million times before. A room full of hard-nosed Brits eyes them suspiciously, and the boys' seemingly innocent inquiries about a pentagram that's painted on a wall doesn't help add levity to the situation.
After some awkward moments, the pair is once again traversing the English countryside. It's then that a monstrous wolf-creature attacks them out of nowhere, killing one and injuring the other.
The survivor is taken to a hospital in London, where he soon realizes that, when the moon is full, he'll transform into an unstoppable killing machine complete with fangs, claws, and brambles of tangled hair.
Said protagonist falls for his nurse, and they embark on a brief love affair that involves little more than intimate encounters in a shower and playful banter regarding the possibility of humans becoming creatures of the night.
As you'd expect, the humor is what elevates Werewolf above any offerings of similar quality. Landis strategically places appropriate moments of dry actions/line-delivery throughout the movie, and the contrast between the horrible gore inflicted by the monster and the overly "proper" behavior of some of London's finest citizens makes for a chuckle-worthy fish-out-of-water scenario.
The problem, though, is that are far too many moments where the story— quite simply—lags. Throw the funny but much too abrupt finale into the mix, and it seems as if Landis and company have somehow avoided taking full advantage of a great premise.
If you've never seen An American Werewolf in London, it is worth checking out. It has one or two moments that will likely cause you to double-over in raucous laughter, but, when compared to more recent comedy/horror fare, it seems like little more than a fleeting slice of mildly amusing nostalgia.
And that's the case with John Landis' 1981 film An American Werewolf in London. It's silly and punctuated by instances of extremely dark humor, and it rarely makes any attempt to work true "emotion" into the narrative. This, of course, is a good thing.
After a somewhat slow opening, we witness two friends—who are backpacking across Europe—stumble upon a shady pub called "The Slaughtered Lamb." When they walk through the door, the effect is pretty much the cliché turntable-coming-to-a-screeching-halt scenario that you've seen a million times before. A room full of hard-nosed Brits eyes them suspiciously, and the boys' seemingly innocent inquiries about a pentagram that's painted on a wall doesn't help add levity to the situation.
After some awkward moments, the pair is once again traversing the English countryside. It's then that a monstrous wolf-creature attacks them out of nowhere, killing one and injuring the other.
The survivor is taken to a hospital in London, where he soon realizes that, when the moon is full, he'll transform into an unstoppable killing machine complete with fangs, claws, and brambles of tangled hair.
Said protagonist falls for his nurse, and they embark on a brief love affair that involves little more than intimate encounters in a shower and playful banter regarding the possibility of humans becoming creatures of the night.
As you'd expect, the humor is what elevates Werewolf above any offerings of similar quality. Landis strategically places appropriate moments of dry actions/line-delivery throughout the movie, and the contrast between the horrible gore inflicted by the monster and the overly "proper" behavior of some of London's finest citizens makes for a chuckle-worthy fish-out-of-water scenario.
The problem, though, is that are far too many moments where the story— quite simply—lags. Throw the funny but much too abrupt finale into the mix, and it seems as if Landis and company have somehow avoided taking full advantage of a great premise.
If you've never seen An American Werewolf in London, it is worth checking out. It has one or two moments that will likely cause you to double-over in raucous laughter, but, when compared to more recent comedy/horror fare, it seems like little more than a fleeting slice of mildly amusing nostalgia.