Made six years before the more famous ‘Wolfman’ of Lon Chaney Jnr this was the first proper werewolf film and was responsible for the lore that follows these creatures for the most in filmland. Being bitten by a werewolf makes you one, turning into the creature only on the night of the full moon, seeking out those they love the most, all come from this film. Prior to this witches both male and female could turn themselves into a werewolf by magic, sometimes a salve rubbed all over their bodies, the kinky devils, once I read by drinking water from the pawprint of a wolf, which is a bit unfortunate. Clearly, this film wanted to make the character who became the werewolf a victim and not a ‘bad’ protagonist, hench no control over the change or murderous impulses.

Therein lies the rub. Wilfred Glendon, played by an American born in Kentucky, is truly English upper-class from that time (and even now) the rod up his arse has a rod up its arse. He has a beautiful young fun-loving wife, Lisa, who he totally neglects for flesh-eating plants and the moonlight blooming only Mariphasa. Little wonder we get a slight sliver of sexual tension when his wife’s former beau, Paul Ames, played by an actual Englishman Lester Matthews, rolls up and starts banging on about the old days. Good job he is wearing nice loose-fitting trousers. So straight away it is extremely hard to have much sympathy with this dusty old botanist.

We are treated to Hollywood’s version of the upper class of England at the time and to be fair it probably was not that far from the truth. Although stagey, it was 1935 to be fair, the party scenes bounce along with the wonderfully named and I have to say attractive, Spring Byington, dragging the scenes from the mundane with her turn as Miss Ettie Coombes Lisa’s aunt. Wonderfully ‘great auntish’ but played with a coquettish glee. She even gets sloshed later at a party at her house. I was hoping she did not become a victim to the hairy fellow and she did not.

Miss Ettie Coombes was ably supported in the comic relief slot by veteran actors Ethel Griffies and Zeffie Tilbury playing respectfully the wonderfully named Mrs. Whack and Mrs. Moncaster, ne’er-do-well dosshouse landladies. Straight off the music hall stage with and well-practiced to and froing verbal banter and some less than subtle physical comedy this should not have worked but even today it does not jar from the overall spectacle.

The story is clearly a werewolf story so after the initial peek a boo and seemingly scared werewolf at the beginning we then wait for quite some time before Henry Hull transforms into the murderous creature, the worst part of a wolf and the worst part of a man. Contrary to popular belief the original make-up for the transformation was not rejected by Hull because he did not want the ordeal of hours in the make-up chair but because the script clearly said the Glendon had to be recognised as Glendon when he was the werewolf. Jack Pierce’s original test was similar to Lon Chaney’s version in later movies and in that style, you could not tell who it was.
Due to this the werewolf in this film is more akin to Mr Hyde rather than Lon Chaney’s true beast, albeit a beast in the shirt and trousers. So much so than when he goes looking for a floozie to slaughter he remembers to put his coat and hat on, which I remember when I watched this as a young lad, had me in stitches and it still looks incongruous now.

The look of London and England in general is clearly Hollywood, in particular the Harley Davidson motorcycles with wailing sirens near the end – did the UK police even have motorbikes in the 1930s? They certainly did not have sirens. Tibet is the same valley as the hilarious Captain Kirk fight with the Gorn from Star Trek and the Tibetan spoken is pure gibberish.
Werewolf of London is close to 100 years old and it is not fair to point out the creaking structure and weak points but in the context of the time it was made it was an entertaining film. The ‘monster’ itself is now as scary as slightly annoyed dog and gruesomeness amounts to some claw slashes and Hull in shaggy dog make-up going extreme close up to the camera. I am not sure even 1930s audiences would have been that terrified even with their little exposure to horror in those days.

This film flopped on its realise and Henry Hull and experience and serious actor never again ventured into the horror genre, interestingly enough his character was going to be played by Boris Karloff and Warner Orland, a Swedish man who ended up playing Fu Man Chu and Charley Chan (he also played a character called Dr. Boris Karlov but let’s leave that one out), who played the slightly odd Dr Yogami a character originally slated for Bela Lugosi. One wonders what the film would have been with these two more established horror film actors in place and how this film would have been received.

Werewolf of London definitely has an important place in the early annuls of horror-film history and certainly led the way for bigger and better films. The make-up tested for it become 1941’s The Wolfman’s iconic ‘bear in a suit’ look and rules of being an unwilling werewolf sprouted from here and therefore influence a great deal of werewolf fiction right up to the present day.

One fantastic point of note. The slim, pretty young thing playing Glendon’s unfortunate wife, Lisa, was Valerie Hobson, who retired in 1954 after marrying the British Conservative MP John Profumo. If this name is not familiar to you, look him up. Hobson got mixed up in one of Britain’s biggest political horror stories in its own right, full of British upper-class fools, stiffly walking about and hee-hawing more than anyone in this film.

Do not expect An American Werewolf in London or any horror film made after the 1940s and prepare for stagey slow dialogue-heavy set-pieces and Werewolf of London (made in America) should be an interesting look in the history of early horror.