Ignoring the warnings of local pub-goers, a pair of indifferent American backpackers stumble off the main road, encroach upon the wrong rain-soaked pasture and bump into a sharp, furry piece of European folklore. One of the young men is immediately sliced to bloody ribbons, with the other hustling toward the same fate until a late reprieve drops him, instead, in a hospital bed. There, he suffers vivid nightmares, colorful hallucinations, stifling hot flashes and inexplicable bouts of bloodlust before the state deems him adequately recovered and releases him to terrorize the city.

Part early ‘80s gore-horror and part early ‘80s sex comedy, _An American Werewolf in London_ isn’t an especially strong example of either. Fortunately, the real emphasis is (rightly) placed on Rick Baker’s grotesque, groundbreaking special effects work. We skate right past the protagonist’s clumsy flirtations with a cute nurse and silly arguments with an increasingly-decomposed former travel buddy, but linger for ages on the agony of transformation when the switch flips and he finally goes full werewolf. The beast itself may seem a bit tame by today’s standards, propped up by smoke and mirrors as it is, but the bone-breaking metamorphosis scenes remain delightfully repugnant, twisted and squirm-inducing. Extra kudos to lead werewolf David Naughton for really pushing those over the top with a chilling physical (and vocal) performance.

As a pioneer in the emerging laugh/scream subgenre, it’s easy to see how this irreverent take on a once-serious subject would go on to influence films like _Ghostbusters, Beetlejuice_ and, much later, _Shaun of the Dead_. Writer/director John Landis was brimming with fresh ideas at this point in his career, but still very raw, as evidenced by the loose plot structure and hollow ending.