An American Werewolf in London

An American Werewolf in London

An American Werewolf in London

Filmmaker John Landis backs up comedies The Blues Brothers and Animal House with this monster movie classic (written when he was just 19-years-old), featuring pre-CGI effects from Rick Baker and equal lashings of terror and humour. Follows a backpacking yank who undergoes a hairy transformation after being mauled by a werewolf on the Yorkshire moors.

David (David Naughton) and Jack (Griffin Dunne) are two American tourists backpacking through the UK when they find themselves at a Yorkshire pub populated by strange locals and ominously called The Slaughtered Lamb. Deciding not to stay there, the pair head off across the moors and are mauled by a large beast. When David emerges from unconsciousness a few weeks later he's told that Jack is dead - so why does he keep appearing to David looking like a reanimated corpse? And what's with all of David's strange new wolfy dreams? As the full moon approaches he's about to live up to the film's title.

Best Makup (Rick Baker) Oscar winner, 1982 Academy Awards.
1981Rating: MA15+, Horror violence and strong sex scene98 minsUK, USA
ComedyFantasyHorrorClassic

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An American Werewolf in London / Reviews

Film Threat

Film Threat

Among horror aficionados, “An American Werewolf in London” is widely considered to be the best werewolf film ever made.

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Roger Ebert

Roger Ebert

Seems curiously unfinished, as if director John Landis spent all his energy on spectacular set pieces and then didn't want to bother with things like transitions, character development, or an ending.

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Variety

Variety

A clever mixture of comedy and horror which succeeds in being both funny and scary...

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The Guardian

The Guardian

The big man-to-wolf transformation scene is still a marvel.

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Time Out

Time Out

Not just gory but actually frightening, not just funny but clever...

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The Washington Post

The Washington Post

So slack and uncertain that the movie ends up dramatically shapeless.

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Little White Lies

Little White Lies

David's writhing discomfort in his own skin marks not just the monstrous metamorphosis in and of genre, but also that deep sense of estrangement experienced by any well-meaning if gauche tourist tripping up on local lore and mores.

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