The Decade of the Werewolf: A Moment in the Moonlight

You’ve got to feel a bit sorry for werewolves. Not only is it a pretty undignified situation, waking up naked in a bush smeared in blood with no recollection of the previous evening (although par for the course on a Saturday night out in England), you’re always playing second banana to those damned vampires. And it’s a rivalry that dates back long before Underworld, Twilight, or What We Do In The Shadows.

Before movies came along, both creatures were sometimes linked interchangeably in Slavic folklore, a notion that Bram Stoker featured in his novel Dracula. Since they were inducted into the classic canon of Universal Monsters in the ‘30s and ‘40s, however, werewolves have always come across as the vampire’s hairy, uncouth, down-at-heel cousin. The deal was pretty much sealed once Bela Lugosi swung on the cape in Tod Browning’s 1931 hit – lycanthropes would always be horror also-rans. Even Universal’s The Wolf Man, starring Lon Chaney Jr, never received an official sequel, leaving the furry one creeping up on Abbott and Costello in a couple of unlikely comedy-horror crossovers.

True to form, there have been relatively few iconic werewolf movies over the decades. While vampires never really went away, largely thanks to Christopher Lee keeping things ticking over from the late ‘50s to the mid-’70s, there just wasn’t any equivalent. I Was a Teenage Werewolf (1957) is surprisingly influential given its lowly status as a movie to actually watch; Oliver Reed made a decent fist of it in Terence Fisher’s Curse of the Werewolf (1961); and Hammer stalwart Peter Cushing defected to Amicus for the hi-tech werewolf-hunting mystery The Beast Must Die in 1974. But that was about it until 1981 changed everything.

Until then, the big problem was that werewolf movies tend to live or die on their makeup and transformation scenes, and special effects simply weren’t quite up to the standard until the early ‘80s when you had improved tech and a roster of young and innovative SFX artists (Rick Baker, Rob Bottin, etc.) to pull it off. But wouldn’t you know it? The decade was also a boom time for vampires, leaving the poor old werewolf somewhat in the shade as usual. Even so, the ‘80s were the most bountiful period for the creatures to date - let’s take a look.

The Howling (1981)

While horror of the ‘70s tended more towards cynical realism and John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) kick-started the slasher movie craze that would dominate the ‘80s, a renewed interest in the supernatural also saw a revival of classic monsters like vampires and werewolves. In the latter camp, 1981 was an amazingly fruitful year with no less than four films released, and first out of the gate was The Howling.

John Landis’s An American Werewolf in London (more on that in a minute) would be hard to top in any era, but Joe Dante’s film came pretty close. Loosely based on Gary Brandner’s novel of the same name, The Howling is an darker, grittier, sexier, and scarier affair as news anchor Karen White (Dee Wallace) is stalked by a werewolf serial killer before heading off to a remote retreat for therapy – which also happens to be a swinging lycanthrope colony.

It’s also pretty funny, too, and has a surprisingly meta element 15 years before Wes Craven was celebrated for making that a big thing in Scream. I’ve always preferred Dante’s twisted humour to Landis’s rather self-satisfied tone, and The Howling also has a strong cult credentials thanks to a horror-literate cast including Kevin McCarthy (Invasion of the Body Snatchers), John Carradine (who played Dracula several times), Kenneth Tobey (The Thing from Another World), plus Patrick MacNee and Slim Pickens. Best of all, Dante regular Dick Miller shows up as Walter Paisley (his frequent on-screen name), this time materialising as a grouchy arcane bookstore owner who knows just how to deal with shapeshifters.

The centrepiece is a nightmarish transformation scene from Rob Bottin (who would provide the gloopy effects for The Thing in the following year). While it lacks the full-body shots of Rick Baker’s work in American Werewolf, it is far grislier and arguably much scarier. One thing The Howling definitely has over its closest rival, however, is a far cooler poster, with artwork by Stan Watts!

Wolfen (1981)

Released between two of the sub-genre’s biggest hitters, Wolfen never really stood much of a chance at the box office. Not only because it takes a more thoughtful and ambiguous approach to the horror, but also because it’s barely a werewolf movie at all.

Albert Finney plays a frazzled New York cop returning from leave early to investigate a spate of gruesome and seemingly unconnected murders – that of a property magnate and his mistress, and a vagrant slain in an abandoned South Bronx neighborhood scheduled for re-development. As you might expect, the killings are more linked than they first seem, albeit by an unusual culprit: the wolfen are ferocious spirit animals with a psychic connection to the Big Apple’s beleaguered Native American community.

Wolfen has a rather contemplative vibe as it explores serious themes including the negative effects of gentrification and the displacement of indigenous people in the United States. Director Michael Wadleigh, previously best known for his Oscar-winning documentary Woodstock, takes a similarly thoughtful approach, creating an eerie dreamlike ambience as the thermographic wolf’s-eye technology (later used to great effect in Predator) stalks the city. The film’s modest effects are easily outdone by a wintry New York, which is beautifully captured by cinematographer Gerry Fisher. 

Meandering and enigmatic, things are livened up by a few splatters of tasty gore and fun supporting turns by Gregory Hines as a hip coroner and Tom Noonan as a groovy zoologist – both provide light relief in contrast to Finney’s tense performance as the haggard detective. Sadly, Wolfen flopped at the box office and it was Wadleigh’s only feature film in the director’s chair. Perhaps audiences weren’t in the mood for a meditative murder mystery with some supernatural wolf-related elements, which is a shame because he was clearly a talented artist. 

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

After the roaring success of National Lampoon’s Animal House and The Blues Brothers, John Landis basically had a free pass to make whatever movie he chose next. Alarmingly for the studio executives, he took a left turn into horror instead, dusting off an old script he started while working as a Production Assistant on Kelly’s Heroes in location in Yugoslavia. There, he had observed a band of Romani people performing a ritual to ensure a deceased loved one stayed buried, and that curious spectacle became the genesis of An American Werewolf in London.

When it finally made it to the screen over a decade later, Landis resisted pressure from the studio to cast Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi, opting for relative unknowns David Naughton and Griffin Dunne instead. Also shrugging off misgivings that his script would be too scary for a comedy and too funny for an outright horror movie, he created what is generally regarded as the finest werewolf film ever made.

Landis handles the balance expertly. After David (Naughton) and Jack (Dunne) are attacked by a lycanthrope on the misty moors of Yorkshire, there are laughs to be had from the former’s chats with his recently savaged best friend. Then comes the horror stuff – a famous double jump scare, and the movie’s incredible transformation scene. 
Rather than keep things in the shadows, Rick Baker pulls it off in a fully lit room. Bones crunch and David writhes in agony as his limbs elongate, his body changes shape, fur sprouts from his skin, and his jawline extends into a fearsome snout. It’s a brilliant sequence and Baker won the very first Oscar for Best Makeup for his efforts.

Full Moon High (1981)

Providing a bridge from I Was a Teenage Werewolf to Teen Wolf a few years later, Full Moon High stars Adam Arkin as Tony, a popular ‘50s high school football hero who is attacked by a werewolf while visiting Romania with his CIA agent dad. He finds himself unable to control his urges (“Werewolf annoys community” reads one headline) and runs away to wander the world, returning home 20 years later to help his deadbeat school football team finally score a touchdown against their arch rivals.

Arkin is an appealing lead, delivering a self-deprecating cavalcade of Borscht Belt one-liners. He’s joined by his more famous dad Alan in the final reel, who shows up playing an abusive psychiatrist with his typical deadpan. The cast also includes Kenneth Mars as the school’s camp head teacher and a pre-Karate Kid Pat Morita as a silversmith.

The movie was the only outright comedy, written, produced, and directed by B-movie maestro Larry Cohen, and it’s a lot raunchier and more irreverent than Michael J. Fox’s very similar star vehicle. Cohen opts for the gag-a-minute style of Airplane!, Mel Brooks, and Woody Allen’s early funny ones. Most of the punchlines are pretty weak, but the relentlessness of the jokes has a cumulative effect and keeps Full Moon High bouncing along with a goofy eager-to-please energy. One of Cohen’s lesser efforts, but it’s still good fun.

The Company of Wolves (1984)

Tales within tales, Freudian fever dreams, and nightmarish imagery intertwine in Neil Jordan’s alluring The Company of Wolves, adapted from her own dark twist on Little Red Riding Hood by Angela Carter. It was only the Irish director’s second film after the low-key crime drama Angel, and it’s a strange brew; few mainstream horror movies from the ‘80s look quite so ravishing while also paying such little heed to narrative urgency or cohesion.

Instead, the story meanders tentatively through the astonishing set design of Anton Furst (who would later win an Oscar for Batman Returns) much like the young protagonist Rosaleen (Sarah Patterson in her film debut), who dreams about living in a small village surrounded by treacherous forest in the 18th Century. As the title suggests, ferocious wolves abound, first killing her sister and then racing her to eat Granny (Angela Lansbury) in the guise of a charming huntsman. 

The subtext is pretty overt – all men are beasts, either inside or out, and some young women are erotically drawn to that ravening quality – but message, plot, and characterisation are all secondary to the nocturnal atmosphere and astonishing visuals. The transformation scenes are ghoulish and imaginative, but even they pale in comparison to Furst’s deep dark woods. It’s one of those movies I’d like to step into and take a wander around, despite Granny’s warning to never stray off the path.

Teen Wolf (1985)

I’m going to upset a lot of people by saying this: Teen Wolf is one ‘80s coming-of-age comedy that lives far better in the memory. I get the sense that there’s a lot of nostalgia for it, and I felt that way too until a recent watch with the kids. They love most ‘80s stuff, but they tuned out before our hero even fully changed into a werewolf. I couldn’t blame them – this movie is pretty boring.

Michael J. Fox is Scott Howard, an average teenager who plays basketball for the awful high school team, acts as sidekick for his obnoxiously outgoing best pal Stiles (Jerry Levine), and constantly moons over the mean kid’s girlfriend. All standard stuff, but things take a turn when he discovers he is turning into a werewolf thanks to a family curse passed down from his dad.

Teen Wolf takes forever to get going. Since Scott already has the beast inside him, there’s no typical werewolf attack, and the movie plods along for half an hour before he fully turns. The basketball match that everybody remembers clocks in around the 45 minute mark. That means a lot of ho-hum and not terribly well-written teen angst in between.

I still like the novel twist that everybody in town is totally cool with Scott being a werewolf, turning him into the the hairiest slam-dunking, van-surfing, disco-dancing, most popular kid in school. The movie also has something to say about puberty and being comfortable with yourself, but none of it is handled in a particularly interesting way by the clunky screenplay.

It’s all very average and it might have faded from memory if it wasn’t for its magic ingredient, Michael J. Fox, and its proximity to Back to the Future. Teen Wolf was shot in November 1984 but wasn’t released until a month after Robert Zemeckis’s far superior time-travelling coming-of-age comedy made Fox a breakout star. That closeness perhaps created a kind of halo effect, making Teen Wolf seem better than it actually is. 40 years on, I’d go so far as to say it’s only the second-best sports-related ‘80s teen werewolf movie after Full Moon High.

Silver Bullet (1985)

Stephen King adaptations were everywhere in the ‘80s, and Silver Bullet is certainly one of the lesser entries, an uneven and hokey movie that betrays the oddness of its source material. Dan Attias’s movie is based on Cycle of the Werewolf, which started off as an idea for a novelty horror calendar (with a vignette from King for each month) before the author fleshed it out into a novella.

The movie stars a very young Corey Haim as Marty Coleslaw, a chipper disabled kid who rockets around his small rural town home in his motorised wheelchair, the Silver Bullet of the title. Naturally, he and his sister are the only ones hip to the threat of the werewolf behind a string of brutal slayings, eventually enlisting the help of their drunken and irresponsible Uncle Red (Gary Busey).

Silver Bullet drops the ball when it comes to the actual werewolf. Reportedly, Stephen King wanted SFX artist Carlo Rambaldi (Possession, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial) to dial back the creature effects, resulting in a shape-shifter that looks more like a disgruntled bear. Still, the movie has plenty of oddball “only in the ‘80s” moments, such as Marty outrunning a car in his souped-up hot-rod wheelchair and a werewolf wielding a baseball bat as a weapon.

The Monster Squad (1987)

Fred Dekker envisaged The Monster Squad as “The Little Rascals meet the Universal Monsters”, which is a cracking premise for an ‘80s gateway horror if ever there was one. Undeterred by being unable to secure the rights to Universal’s roster, he teamed up with Stan Winston to create impressive spins on the creatures without infringing copyright – Duncan Regehr’s menacing Count Dracula, Tom Noonan’s sympathetic Frankenstein’s Monster, Tom Woodruff’s Gill-Man, and so on.

To continue a theme, Dracula is the mastermind behind a plot to take over the world and only a bunch of plucky kids can stop him. The rest of the monsters are basically the vampire’s henchmen. The Wolf Man has some neat make-up design, but he suffers the indignity of getting kicked in the nuts by a tubby adolescent – consequently, the film’s making-of documentary is called Wolfman’s Got Nards. 

So the poor werewolf is a sideshow act to Dracula once again, although he has one of the most intense human iterations. Cast as “Desperate Man”, Jonathan Gries is fantastic as a guy who frantically tries to get someone to stop him before he transforms again and wreaks more havoc.

Unfortunately, The Monster Squad was a flop at the box office – perhaps because it opened only two weeks after an out-and-out vampire flick, The Lost Boys.

So there you have it, the finest werewolf movies that the ‘80s had to offer. What are your favourites? Would you add any other titles to the list? Let us know!