An American Werewolf in London (1981)

    John Landis’s classic 1981 monster movie is by no means first or last in the long list of lycanthropic titles.  What makes it stand out is its mix of semi-campiness and bloody effects.  At the same time it manages to introduce some serious topics despite any attempt to satisfactorily resolve them.
    We meet a rather idiotic pair of Yankees in over their messy-haired heads while backpacking in the Yorkshire moors.  After being dropped from the back of a sheep truck they navigate the indiscernible land with complete disregard to spatial continuity; not the only time the film cheats its locations.  They arrive at the appropriately named Slaughtered Lamb to a cold reception from the accented natives who have neither food nor hospitality.  Upon leaving, they are greeted by a howling werewolf that murders one friend while the other flees in terror.
    And so begins the trials of David Kessler as he is haunted by his decaying best friend who is caught in a state of limbo.  Jack has returned in an attempt to get David to kill himself, a thought not entirely foreign after running from his friend’s side as he was slaughtered by a mysterious creature.  For the sake of a movie more than ten minutes long, David is more interested in his nurse, with whom he soon sparks a relationship that garners him both a place to stay and a convenient plot propellant.  Jack informs David that he must end the werewolf curse by ending his own life, or else he will become the beast during the next full moon…
    Naturally, he takes these apparitions as insanity and soon transforms, rather painfully, into a wolf.  A very ugly wolf.  Numerous others die and are added to the list of lives he must atone for, all the visitors in some stage of decay as he meets them in the back of a porn theater.  By this point he’s probably wishing the wolf had killed him.
    The premier wolf attack is taken almost tongue-in-cheek as a huge prop is thrust from screen-left and statically knocks Jack down.  The fact that David runs for his life is a knee-jerk reaction but remains the point of contention for the film.  David owes Jack his life and as such Jack feels compelled not to blame his friend but ask for his help in relieving him and others from a netherworld.  In a straight drama this dynamic would be played out to sappy music, emotional connection, meaningful dialogue.  Here, the awesome Rick Baker effects overshadow any serious issues and instead make the transformation scenes the serious issue. 
    David’s fingers protrude to an uncomfortable length, his face stretches forward, his shoulders arch into almost anorexic detail while growing scraggily hairs.  His eyes, ears, and mouth all transform, grotesquely, into the werecreature.  No less is spared on Jack’s postmortem presence that becomes puppet like near the end but effective nonetheless.  Naturally, the quantity of blood is sufficient for what one expects at the scene of a werewolf-attributed slaughter.  The Academy of Motion Pictures took note and created an Outstanding Achievement in Make-Up award for Baker's efforts.
    Throughout, the film maintains a sense of self-consciousness in its referral to past wolf lore and continued tone; never does it tread on being taken completely serious nor descend into another completely campy splatterfest.  Landis effectively navigates the line between making it worthwhile and making it fun.  We could certainly use a bit more discussion on the issue of say, stigmas of insanity, suicide, friendship, etc.  But then again, this is a werewolf movie.

    Look for the remake next year.