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“An American Werewolf in London” opens with David and Jack trekking across the moors, and immediately it’s captivating. Their natural banter feels unscripted, and could easily be an actual conversation between college buddies. When Jack dies, it’s really tragic mainly for the fact that he and David shared a wonderful chemistry. Thankfully, he’s not quite dead, but rather in limbo. The undead Jack appears to David in dream sequences which are terrific, and darkly comedic. There’s a bizarre nightmare that features a dream within a dream, and it’s completely unexpected. Stand down, “Inception.” One of the highlights is a congregation of David’s victims, now stuck in limbo. It’s set in an adult movie theatre, and hilariously a porn flick is playing in the background. The group brainstorm ways for David to kill himself and avoid another werewolf rampage. Their enthusiasm is hysterical.
Mastermind Rick Baker really steals the show however with terrific effects. The transformation scene is unforgettable, and it’s aged quite well. Honestly, the metamorphosis rivals current computer animation. While David’s werewolf makeover usually receives the most attention, the undead Jack is incredibly impressive. Over the course of several days he gradually decays, first appearing as his shredded corpse, then with a slightly green hue, and finally as s skeletal entity with blackened flesh.
John Landis’ film remains a celebrated classic for the sheer brilliance of the production. Inventive story telling throws several dream sequences in the mix, the special effects are strikingly vivid, and even traditionally serious matters are made comical. Musically, “An American Werewolf in London” is quite underrated. Elmer Bernstein provides an original score, but complimenting that are several lunar-themed songs. Bobby Vinton croons “Blue Moon” during the intro, there’s a lovemaking scene set to Van Morrison’s “Moondance,” and even CCR’s “Bad Moon Rising” makes an appearance. Oddly, these pop inclusions lend a cheerful backdrop that contrasts the impending carnage. Ultimately, with the terrific execution and praiseworthy originality of “An American Werewolf in London,” there’s really only one flaw: Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves in London” doesn’t appear anywhere in the film. It’s a minor complaint for an artful and amusing werewolf flick.
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