The Lucky 13: Week Eight: Werewolves

Having already covered vampires as part of the The Lucky 13, this week here in the Vault--and over at Brutal as Hell--we turn our attentions to that other tried-and-true monster of horror cinema, the lycanthrope. Another creature of ancient folklore, the werewolf has existed in our shared consciousness long before movies ever existed, yet it's transitioned nicely onto the silver screen, becoming the source of many of the genre's finest efforts.

While it's true that werewolf films are fewer and farther between than vampire films, there are still quite a few gems to be found. In fact, given the lesser amount, one could argue that there are more high-quality werewolf flicks out there "per capita" than those of their bloodsucking brethren. And so, in our eighth installment of The Lucky 13, we select our all-time favorites...

B-Sol on Werewolf of London

The year is 1935, and Universal, the studio which has made a name for itself producing films about Dracula, Frankenstein, The Invisible Man and The Mummy, has turned its attentions at last to the legend of the werewolf. The movie is Werewolf of London, and for some connoisseurs of vintage horror (including this one,) it remains the high watermark of lycanthrope cinema.

Henry Hull stars as Dr. Glendon, and English botanist who falls under the curse of the werewolf after being bitten on an expedition in the Himalayas. The vast bulk of cinema's take on the werewolf legend is already established in this one film: the transmission through biting, the transformation under the full moon, the beast's desire to destroy that which its human half loves most. The makeup created by Jack Pierce is striking, and Hull's humanoid, intelligent portrayal of the creature is quite unique, giving us one of the only talking werewolves of the silver screen. The film also puts the transformation scene front and center, a tradition that would continue throughout the history of the sub-genre. Werewolf of London remains one of the most influential, and yet also one of the most underrated horror films of the Universal canon.

For whatever reason, in its own day, Werewolf of London did not resonate with audiences to the same degree that previous Universal efforts had. But for my money, it's superior to the much better-known Lon Chaney Jr. film The Wolfman, which came along six years later. This was Universal's first crack at lycanthropy. Excellent Pierce makeup and a fine performance from Hull certify this one as required viewing for anyone who thinks werewolf flicks begin and end with AWIL.



Fascinations with Fear's Christine Hadden on Dog Soldiers

Dog Soldiers is the kind of movie that surprises you. At first glance, you immediately know from the DVD cover that it's going to be a werewolf movie, but then about five minutes in, you have to wonder if you've stumbled upon some random war movie by mistake. A group of soldiers are on a training mission in the Scottish highlands, which in itself is rather creepy. The woods are steeped in thick atmosphere, and you can sense something bad is about to happen.

What you don't expect, however, is the level of tension that the film unloads after the men come across what is apparently the only survivor of some sort of ravaging attack on a special ops unit. They take the remaining fallen soldier with them and without warning are overwhelmed and pursued by unseen predators. A thrilling chase ensues and the squaddies are luckily picked up by a woman traveling alone on a sparsely populated road. She takes them to a nearby farmhouse, where they regroup and try to come to terms with the realization that the creatures hunting them are, in fact, huge carnivorous wolves. Werewolves. And they're hungry.

By and far, Dog Soldiers is a film that lives and dies by the atmosphere it has created. The dark, foreboding woods, being stranded with no recourse in a seemingly abandoned farmhouse, and of course there's this whole man-eating predator thing going on as well. It's a quick paced, well-acted, unexpected romp into the world of werewolves. The action doesn't stop once, the wolves are hulking, brutal examples of lycanthropes, and the gore.... there's a considerable amount, and combined with a moment or two of literal gut-ripping nastiness, it makes for a thoroughly enjoyable film. Tension abounds, and I was on the edge of my seat for most of the time. It's only fitting that director Neil Marshall's next film was also one of my favorites, The Descent. Face it, the man knows how to scare an audience.

I can count on one hand the really good werewolf movies I've seen, and Dog Soldiers has to sit very high on that list. From start to finish, it's a rock and roll kind of horror movie, amping up the action and shock content at every turn, and giving us a reason to believe the werewolf sub-genre didn't take a silver bullet after all.



From Beyond Depraved's Joe Monster on An American Werewolf in London

I have an unconditional love for werewolves. From the earliest bipedals slinking through towering castles to the computer-generated hell hounds that currently rip and rend flesh in modern cinema, shape-shifters hold the power to entrance me with their hoary adventures. So it goes without saying that this week of The Lucky 13 came as somewhat of a challenge for me. No matter what film I chose, I felt there was a legion of other lycanthropic pictures that I was betraying my love for. After much deliberation and plenty cloves of wolfsbane, I was able to narrow my decision down to An American Werewolf in London. Even as my lupine heart ached to include other countless classics, a re-viewing of John Landis’ film proved to me that this was the one to go with.

What brings me to this conclusion, you ask? I think it’s the fact that AWIL remains in my mind as probably one of the most well-constructed horror films I’ve ever seen. It is a smooth viewing experience from start to finish, the quietest and most intimate of moments capturing your attention as much as the werewolf mayhem takes hold of your imagination. Landis’ hand at writing and direction creates a film that is pure cinematic magic. The suspense never deadens; he throws us right into the mix with the foreboding visit to The Slaughtered Lamb, and the anxiety never lets up as it leads to the bloody confrontation on the moors. And after that, we don’t see so much as wolf saliva till the hour mark. The entire time we’re wringing our hands, wondering what’s going to happen to David Naughton on the night of the full moon. Even when the tension is released momentarily with the reveal of the monster, we’re in a constant state of anticipation as to when the beast will strike next all the way up to the thrilling climax.

One of the most important factors in any werewolf story is having a palpable sense of sympathy for the tragic hero. With David Naughton as the leading man, the audience is guaranteed to fall in love with his likable personality. Even as David senses the impending danger of his curse, he cracks jokes and mugs his way through his troubles in a completely endearing manner. He plays a down-to-earth, easy-going fella who’s just trying to deal with this tremendous weight on his shoulders. He never loses his grip on humor and his constant jabs at the rotting remains of his friend Jack seem like what any one of us would do in his situation. The end of his painful journey can’t help but sadden us and touch us, bringing the characterization of his afflicted hero full circle.

This film is what kick started the werewolf renaissance in the '80s, no doubt due to Rick Baker’s innovative and game-changing makeup design. The man worked with the touch of a twisted artisan and created one of the most iconic and memorable transformations/monsters Hollywood has ever seen. For the first time we were explicitly shown just how damn painful it was to morph into a full-grown wolf. The twisting and snapping of David’s ligaments as his body stretches and hair pierces his flesh created a stark, clear picture of the agony of lycanthropy. Baker’s full wolf monster is impressive as well, the bloodsoaked jaws and hellfire eyes imbued with genuine rage and hunger as it rampages through Piccadilly Circus. Baker’s effects are elevated above and beyond the standard gruesome fare and almost become high art in their genius.

An American Werewolf in London really is one of the genre’s highlights for a reason. Its brilliant blend of terror and comedy, dynamite acting, spectacular makeup and powerful story brew into an intoxicating mix that’ll keep your claws glued to the screen. Seek this film out, appreciate it, and just be thankful that the horror community has been given such a gift as this. It’s enough to make you want to let out a hearty howl and run through the moon-streaked wood.




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Head over to Brutal as Hell to see what Marc Patterson and his crew have come up with. And if you're interested in taking part in the future, just give Marc or myself a holler.

Week 1: Grindhouse & Exploitation
Week 2: Creature Features & Monster Movies
Week 3: Demons, Witches & The Devil
Week 4: Gore!
Week 5: Horror Comedies
Week 6: Vampires
Week 7: Psychological Horror

Join us next week, when it's all about those wacky serial killers!

Horror How-To Guides: A Joke That Doesn't Know When to Quit?

Typically, I find myself in the position of being a little too soft critically, for the most part. My usual position is liking something most others don't like; yet, one of the glaring exceptions was Max Brooks' Zombie Survival Guide, which I found to be a crashing bore, and most others seem to praise immeasurably. Loved World War Z, but Brooks' faux-DIY volume was a dreary, bone-dry, needlessly exhaustive affair that felt overlong at a mere 288 pages.

Upon starting Ritch Duncan and Bob Powers' The Werewolf's Guide to Life: A Manual for the Newly Bitten, I fully expected to have a much better time. And in the beginning, I did.

"To all those living with lycanthropy, this one's for you," reads the dedication. "Remember, take it one Moon at a time." And this tongue-in-cheek opening pretty much sets the tone for what is to come: A relatively lively and clever pseudo-guide for newly bitten werewolves and those close to them, with chapter headings like "When It Will Happen and What It Will Feel Like," "Home Is Where You Hang Your Restraints," "Romance and the Modern Lycanthrope" and "So You've Attacked Someone." Admittedly funny stuff--much moreso than Brooks' book.

However, The Werewolf's Guide to Life is kind of like one of those shaggy-dog stories that are really funny at first...then the laughter dies down to a chuckle...then just a polite smile...until you're sitting there just waiting for the person to finish, wondering how long it will go on for. You see, much like The Zombie Survival Guide, the whole thing is a clever joke, but one which doesn't quite know when to stop.

I love the idea behind The Werewolf's Guide to Life. Any book which introduces concepts like the mechanics of werewolf sex, or the best way to smuggle livestock onto your property, is going to get a positive reaction from me. However, it's a great idea that just doesn't translate well into a 236-page book. It would be much better served as a pamphlet or a booklet. Now I know the publishing industry kind of makes such a move both unfeasible and unwise, but that doesn't make the finished product any more readable.

Basically, it's a one-trick pony. The trick certainly has a lot of layers and nuance to it, but as a reader, I just had a hard time sitting through them all. Much like the point in The Zombie Survival where I started climbing the walls trying to get through a detailed explanation of firearms and their varying effects on the living dead, so too did I find myself twitching while reading about the pros and cons of suburbia vs. city life for the modern werewolf. The concept as a whole? Funny. The minutiae of the execution? Not so much.

To make myself clear, The Werewolf's Guide is a lot more entertaining than The Zombie Survival Guide, which is ironic since Max Brooks is the son of the one and only Mel Brooks, and a former SNL writer. Nevertheless, Ritch Duncan & Bob Powers are not exactly slouches--both men are accomplished comedians and comic writers. Duncan has worked as a standup, and also wrote for SNL, as well as shows like The Late, Late Show with Craig Kilborn, and Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn (he was also the author of the 2004-05 blog "What Is Happening to Me?"--the first-person story of a new werewolf that was something of an inspiration for The Werewolf's Guide.) And Powers has experience in the realm of "fake how-to" books, with acclaimed tomes such as Happy Cruelty Day! and the Just Make a Choice! series.

I even had the opportunity to see a presentation on Jaws & Jaws 2 given by Duncan (pictured) at Kevin Geeks Out About Sharks, and it was hilarious. No doubt about it, these guys are funny. But even they can't keep the laughs going with such a thin premise, and it really starts to get tedious after about 100 pages. Interestingly, the most consistently amusing aspect of the book turned out to be the illustrations by New Yorker cartoonist Emily Flake, which were far more funny and ludicrous than the dryly demonstrative illos in The Zombie Survival Guide.

The Werewolf's Guide to Life is the kind of a book that is just cool for being what it is, and you can get a kick out of owning it and proudly displaying it, like a novelty item that makes for good conversation at parties. But I just can't recommend reading it all the way through, unless you actually are a werewolf in need of some guidance. Then, by all means, go to town.

TRAILER TRASH: Paul Naschy Edition!

The Wolfman's Got Nards!

Following the production of The Wolfman over the past couple of years here in the Vault has been quite the rollercoaster ride! Yet, through it all, I maintained my interest in the project, even if my enthusiasm waxed and waned with the news of each new melodramatic behind-the-scenes twist and turn. The anticipation inspired me to do a whole history of werewolf movies, not to mention to review the classic original.

And so, once the thing finally hit theaters last weekend, you know I had to proceed to my local cineplex (my horror Jedi Master dad in tow) and check it out for myself. And in the end, I can honestly say I'm glad I didn't let all the drama drive me away. Because I rather enjoyed the picture, and had quite a bit of fun with it.

Maybe it was the lowered expectations, I'm not sure. But in general, I couldn't help but feel that the slant of the consensus of reviews for this movie toward the mediocre is a but unearned. Yes, it is a flawed film, and no, it will never replace the superior Universal original. Yet I may be too easygoing, but I think people have been a bit too hard on it.

Surely, it is a mixed bag. First and foremost amongst the weaknesses is Benicio Del Toro himself, surprisingly enough. Lon Chaney Jr. would never be confused with Sir John Geilgud, but nevertheless, his performance was rich with pathos and earnestness. Del Toro, usually excellent, seems to sleepwalk through his role. He never makes you really pity him, and seems like he has to continually remind himself to be upset.

Then there's the whole CGI dilemma. The transformation scenes are not as impressive as they should be--and in fact, I would say Rick Baker's practical work 30 years ago in American Werewolf in London is far more effective. For that matter, and some may disagree, but despite the rather quaint (by today's standards) transformation effects of the 1941 original, I found that the transformation scenes in the original carried more weight and were filled with more dread than the computerized mess we get here. The scenes are poorly shot, and don't really convey the horror of what's going on sufficiently.

Indeed, I don't know if this was because I knew a bit about the intrigue that went on getting this movie to the screen, but it felt a bit overly tampered with, as if the editing was somehow a bit uneven and off at times.

But despite these flaws, I found it to be pretty enjoyable. It possesses what a lot of horror in the early 21st century is missing: Fun.

Let me make this clear: I do not consider the original film to be an untouchable sacred cow. Although it's terrific, it's certainly inferior to most of the Universal films of the 1930s. This is partly why I took no issue with it being remade. And I found it very interesting what screenwriters Andrew Kevin Walker & David Self and director Joe Johnston tried to do here to distinguish it from its formidable forerunner.

What I quite enjoyed was that they tried to do something different, but in a way few remakes ever do. On the one hand, it doesn't slavishly ape the original; but it also doesn't piss all over the original's legacy. It manages to pay homage, yet take the story and characters in some fascinating directions. I'm going to get a bit spoilery in discussing these, so you squeamish types should head for the proverbial hills...

.........

As much as it bothered me when I first learned about it, having Sir John Talbot as the "original" werewolf--indeed transforming him into the heavy of the story--was pretty ingenious. I was a bit uncomfortable with Anthony Hopkins stepping into Claude Rains' shoes, not because he isn't a fine actor, but because in my opinion, he has a tendency toward scenery-chewing (see that other Universal re-imagining, Bram Stoker's Dracula) that is the total opposite of Rains' classy restraint. Rains also a brought a fatherly austerity that is lost amidst Hopkins' seedy characterization.

Nevertheless, as the movie went along, I came to embrace this. For it is the change in the Sir John character that eventually got me the most interested in the story. It changes the entire dynamic of the picture, specifically altering the father-son relationship completely. It also allows for a completely bad-ass werewolf vs. werewolf royal rumble at the climax that is a reminder of how much fun monster movies can be.

And make no mistake, this is a monster movie, first and foremost--and I say that as a compliment. Aside from the awkward CGI metamorphosis stuff, the actual practical makeup itself, done by the aforementioned maestro Baker--is spot-on, a fantastic updating/tribute to the iconic Jack Pierce design. I'm glad they decided to keep the character as a humanoid "wolf man" rather than make it a post-AWIL lupine werewolf. I'm all for bringing back clothes-wearing werewolves!

There are other very cool nods to the original here for those who are looking for them. The infamous wolf's head walking stick; the wolfsbane rhyme; Geraldine Chaplin filling Marya Ospenskaya's shoes as the gypsy fortune teller; that deliciously atmospheric chase scene in the woods, almost identically lit; a brief scene in Gwen's boutique; even a lingering closeup on Hopkins' face in mid-transformation that looks for all the world like a CGI version of Lon Chaney's time-lapse metamorphoses.

Aside from some shoddy editing, the film itself is shot quite nicely, with a cold and bleak look and feel provided by cinematographer Shelly Johnson and production designer Rick Heinrichs. The latter in particular was also responsible for Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow, which might be a big part of why the look of this film was reminiscent at times of that underrated Burton delight.

Now let's talk violence. I may be getting squeamish in my old age, but this flick had a surprising amount of graphic gore, particularly for a slick, big-budget, mainstream horror production. Hell, this movie had stuff in it I would've liked to have seen from the last two George Romero movies, but didn't. There are slashings galore, dismembered and quivering limbs, impalements, eviscerations, and more. As I mentioned the other night in the Vaultcast, we see the Wolf Man actually pull out a guy's liver with his teeth. It's some pretty bold stuff for a Hollywood horror movie in 2010, that's for sure.

Joe Johnston was a replacement director, dumped into the project in mid-production after the ousting of Mark Romanek. Thanks to the internet, this all became public knowledge, and I think it unfairly biased many toward Johnston. A once-promising young genre director who made a splash early on with the likes of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids and one of the most underrated summer movies of all time, The Rocketeer, he later sort of lost his way, stepping into Steven Speilberg's intimidated shoes for Jurassic Park III and mounting the 2004 bomb Hidalgo. Yet for my money, he does the best he could here with a project he inherited--and to tell you the truth, I'm not convinced that music video helmsman Romanek could've done all that better.

The Wolfman is an imperfect remake of a classic monster movie, that nevertheless provides some good popcorn-munching fun for those not looking for anything too earth-shattering. Less stylish and confident than Coppola's Dracula, loads more fun than Branagh's pretentious Frankenstein--and infinitely better than Sommer's Mummy.

The only thing that could've made it even more fun would've been if the climax had taken place here:

High Moon: Werewolves. In the Old West. How Did I Not Like This??

I really, really wanted to enjoy Dave Gallaher and Steve Ellis' High Moon. I had been looking forward to it from back when I first reported on it. And yet, now that I've finished the bound first three chapters released in book form by DC's Zuda Comics, I am stunned to say that it held very little interest for me.

I fully realize I am in the small minority on this, and part of my excitement about it was due to the rave reviews. Gallaher and Ellis even won a Harvey Award for Best Web Comic with the series. And yet there I was, page after page, befuddled at my lack of engagement, until finally putting it down and trying to figure out what just happened.

Revolving around a former detective-turned-vigilante's investigations into a mysterious Texas town, High Moon gives us werewolves battling it out with cowboys and outlaws, plus some vampires thrown in for good measure. It has a certain Sergio Leone feel to it, which I'm guessing is what the creators were going for.

This sounds like a surefire recipe for success. And it isn't so much in the writing that the series falters. Gallaher has an interesting style, using a minimum of dialogue to convey a lot. He's also got a great concept on his hands, and takes some bold chances early on that impressed me. Rather, I think it's in Ellis' artwork that the book loses its way.

Some may blanch at this, but I've always felt that the artist has a lot more control over whether a comic works than the writer. The writer I equate with a screenwriter; but the artist, he's the director. He's the one that has to take a script and really sell it. And quite simply, Steve Ellis fails to do this.

Don't get me wrong, the man appears to be an excellent draftsman. His work is moody, visually stimulating, and he does a lot of interesting things with light and shading. His touch helps create an environment of Leone-esque Old West, with a kind of 1970s Heavy Metal sensibility weaved in.

Individually, his illustrations are great to look at, but here's where I turn into Curmudgeony Old-Scool Guy. There's a reason that Jack "King" Kirby is still considered by many to be the greatest comic book artist who ever lived. Certainly, there have been others since with a better grasp of realistic anatomy, a stronger sense of nuance and detail, a more evocative way with light and shade. But what sets Kirby ahead of the pack and always will are two things: His cleanness and purity of style, and most importantly, his impeccable sense of action and movement.

This is why I'll still take a Kirby, Steve Ditko, or Gil Kane over the Todd McFarlanes, Jim Lees and Rob Liefields of the world. A master like Kirby never forgot that comic books are illustrated narratives, and the most important thing is telling the story though the pictures, moving the story along in a dynamic way. He knew it wasn't about making a series of pretty individual pictures, especially if the story suffered because of it.

The problem with Ellis' work is that, taken as a whole, it does nothing but create total confusion. I'm a pretty bright guy, yet there were many points while reading High Moon where I couldn't have told you what the heck was even going on, where I had no grasp on the overarching story being told. And unfortunately, Gallaher's minimalist writing style gave all the leeway in the world to Ellis, putting the ball in his court to get the story across.

As part of DC's Zuda line of web comics, High Moon first came to life on the internet before being reprinted on paper. I can't be sure since I didn't see it in its original medium, but it's possible that something was somehow lost in translation. In short, this is a moody, evocative piece that looks great on the page and has some clever dialogue. Yet taken all together, read as a story, it fails.

VAULT VLOG: Wolf Man Trailer Reaction

Retro Review: The Wolf Man

The unveiling of the admittedly impressive trailer for the remake of The Wolf Man today has put me in the mood to take another look at the classic Universal original, so that will be the topic of this week's Retro Review. A daunting task, to be sure, but I'm up to it.

Where to begin? A highly enjoyable and iconic horror film, The Wolf Man is nevertheless not quite of the caliber of its 1930s predecessors Dracula and Frankenstein. By 1941, Universal had already relegated its horror films to the B-unit, meaning that they were no longer given quite the same level of attention as they once had been. Nevertheless, The Wolf Man is most likely the finest Universal horror film produced during the entire decade of the 1940s.

Unlike Tod Browning and James Whale, the directors the other two aforementioned classic monster pictures, George Waggner, the man behind The Wolf Man, was more of a craftsman than an artist. An efficient and competent workhorse who had made a living directing B-horror and B-westerns after a failed career as a silent movie actor, Waggner would later settle into a long and comfortable career as a TV director during the 1950s and '60s.

It is not so much Waggner's touch that distinguishes this film as it is the men responsible for its unique and unforgettable look. Joseph A. Valentine, the man behind the camera, would truly make his mark with this movie, and it's no accident that he was soon picked up by Alfred Hitchcock, who made him cinematographer on such flicks as Saboteur, Shadow of a Doubt, and Rope. Art Director Jack Otterson was the man responsible for the look of films like Dressed to Kill and Arabian Nights, as well as Universal chestnuts like She-Wolf of London, The Mummy's Tomb, Invisible Agent and The Ghost of Frankenstein. Set decorator R.A. Gausman also worked on Spartacus, Touch of Evil, The Incredible Shrinking Man, This Island Earth and Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Together, these three very gifted individuals came up with a finished product which, for my money, makes The Wolf Man the memorable film it is. Just checking out the new trailer today, I can already see some telling homages to their work--including a redo of the famous expressionistic scene in which Gwen hides from the Wolf Man in the woods.

That's not to take anything away from the acting, because there are some very solid performances here. Although he would never be confused with his father, Lon Chaney Jr. is nevertheless suitably sympathetic as the guilt-ridden Larry Talbot, forced to bear the curse of the werewolf. This would be long before his hand-wringing routine would grow old and stale after repeated appearances in later sequels; here he is a figure of true pathos.

Claude Rains also brings a great deal of gravitas--as he always did--by now a mainstream celebrity returning to the genre that made him a star nearly a decade earlier with The Invisible Man. Bela Lugosi has one of his unforgettable cameos as the gypsy werewolf who passes on the curse to Talbot. And of course, there is the one and only Maria Ouspenskaya as the old gypsy woman who schools Larry in the lore of the lycanthrope. An early proponent of the Stanislavsky method and a drama coach for many years, Ouspenskaya steals every single scene she's in.

German expatriate Curt Siodmak provided the script, most noted for its legendary and oft-repeated "werewolf rhyme". Siodmak was a prolific author of mainly horror scripts, who had previously penned Vincent Price's The Invisible Man Returns, The Ape, and The Invisible Woman, and would go on to write Invisible Agent, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, Val Lewton's I Walked with a Zombie, Chaney's Son of Dracula, House of Frankenstein, The Beast with Five Fingers, Creature with the Atom Brain, Earth vs. The Flying Saucers, and countless others. He practically invents the modern werewolf mythos here, and needless to say, the actors are in very capable hands.

And what can be said about Jack Pierce's landmark makeup that hasn't already been said? Although some may argue that he did a better job with Henry Hull's makeup years earlier in Werewolf of London, the fact remains that it's his Chaney makeup that is instantly recognizable to this day--and, in my opinion, his most frightening monster creation of them all. As a kid, no Universal monster freaked me out as much as the Wolf Man, and it was as much due to the animalistic abandon with which Chaney played the part as it was Pierce's demonic work.

The Wolf Man is a revered classic from the golden age of horror, and with good reason. It may not be the unassailable masterpiece that Frankenstein, and to a slightly lesser extent Dracula are--but it's still the mother of all werewolf movies, and one hell of an entertaining viewing experience.

Hump-Day Harangue: The Wolf Man Is Going to Suck. My Heart Is Breaking.

As many of you may know, I've been avidly following the Wolf Man remake almost since day one of The Vault of Horror. I held it up as my shining example of a "good remake", and anxiously awaited the Del Toro/Hopkins/Baker goodness to come... But... sigh... I believe it may be time to throw in the towel and give up hope. I'm callin' it.

Too soon, you say? Don't pre-judge, you admonish? Have you been following this thing as closely as I have?

First, there was the ominous debacle involving the walkout of original director Mark Romanek. It was ugly, regardless of how Universal tried to smooth it over. Folks, a director walking out is always a bad thing. On top of that, the main reason he supposedly walked was the limitations he perceived in the film's $100 million budget (yes, we're living in a world where a $100-million budget for a movie is pedestrian). News flash: the budget of the film as it currently stands is now $120 million and rising. Doh!

Worst of all is the reason why the movie has gone so far over-budget. That's right, it's that other thing you never want to hear: Re-shoots. Extensive ones. Expensive ones. Said re-shoots are rumored to be related to a lack of producer confidence in the creature as designed by Rick Baker. You know, those designs that had the entire internet abuzz with rampant ecstasy. Leave it to the stuffed shirts to screw things up.

You see, they were bothered by the humanoid wolf-man creature seen in the film--you know, the one that actually resembles the Lon Chaney original? Yeah, they wanted something more wolf-like, running around on all fours. Kind of like in An American Werewolf in London--aaaannd basically every werewolf movie made in the last 30 years... So the one thing that made the Wolf Man the Wolf Man... is now being rethought by spineless money men.

And there's one other item that has me crying in my Maker's Mark over this whole catastrophe. You've all heard that the movie has been bumped from November to February of next year, I'm sure. But do you know the reason why (other than the re-shoots)? Let me enlighten you. Universal is also releasing New Moon in November, two weeks after the original Wolf Man release date. And it looks like they were afraid a movie about a werewolf might cut into the profit of their pristine cash cow, which also features werewolves... As if we needed another reason to hate Twilight.

This thing has grade-A turkey written all over it, I'm afraid. And believe me, it pains me to say that. This is a grave I'm not dancing on, but rather hurling myself upon and screaming, like an Italian grandmother. I'm also sure that the good people over at Marvel can't be too jazzed, since Joe Johnston, the replacement director, is scheduled to do their Captain America movie next. At this point, we'll be lucky if it's better than that 1990 version with J.D. Salinger's son wearing fake ears...

"Rise of the Lycans": A History of Werewolf Movies, Part 3

After the heady days of the 1980s and the great horror movie boom, the 1990s, as most fans who lived through them know, scaled things back a bit. And yes, of course, werewolf films were affected by this, as well. The '80s had been a golden age for the subgenre, but now, it looked like the wind had once again left the sails of the lycanthrope.

Nevertheless, there would be some signs of life in the old dog--just not very promising signs. For example, the mid 1990s saw something of a mini-craze involving the old gothic horror monsters, thanks mainly to Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 film Bram Stoker's Dracula. Kenneth Branagh brought us Mary Shelley's Frankenstein not long after, and it would be in 1994 that the third of the Universal biggies would get a brief moment in the sun.

In this case, it would be the Mike Nichols-directed Wolf, starring none other than Jack Nicholson as the titular shapeshifter. Although the concept of Jack as a werewolf, as well as the fact that he'd be joined by fellow past Batman villain Michelle Pfeiffer, made this one look promising, it was an ultimately forgettable flop.

But Wolf would seem a masterpiece compared to what was attempted just three years later. What better way, you ask, to inject new life into the genre than by going back to its most successful entry? Well, anyone who may have thought that was dead wrong, as can be evidenced by the 1997 "sequel", An American Werewolf in Paris. Bearing little to no connection to the John Landis original, An American Werewolf in London, this mess is now remembered as one of the great horror missteps of the past 20 years.

With the 1990s mercifully over, the new century ushered in a more favorable climate for horror films. And just as the dearth of werewolf flicks was a reflection of the downturn in horror flicks in general, so this new boom in horror also brought about an influx of interesting and innovative movies on the subject of werewolfism.

The first of these, in 2000, would be Ginger Snaps, a fascinating film that draws an analogy between lycanthropy and puberty. Our main character is a teenage girl who is bitten by a werewolf, and must struggle with the murderous beast she is becoming. Her friends try their best to locate a cure for her condition, as she becomes more and more dangerous.

The fact that Ginger's initial victimization takes place on the same exact night she experiences her first period makes it abundantly clear that the filmmakers are using the tried-and-true werewolf warhorse to tell us a story of sexual awakening. It's an interesting attempt to do something different with a seemingly dead subgenre. Ginger Snaps would lead to a pair of 2004 sequels, Ginger Snaps Unleashes, and Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning.

The next major werewolf film of the new century would be the one most fans point to as the finest the subgenre has offered up since the aforementioned AWIL. Released in 2002, Neil Marshall's Dog Soldiers is also one of the most underrated horror films of the decade, period.

Grafting werewolf horror onto military adventure, Dog Soldiers puts a "Predator" spin on things, telling the story of a British Special Ops group battling mysterious monsters in the Scottish Highlands--monsters whose true nature they're unaware of until it's too late. This gem of an action horror flick would help put Marshall on the map, and lead to more high-profile projects such as The Descent and Doomsday.

Nevertheless, despite its high level of quality, Dog Soldiers went unseen by many fans, thanks to poor distribution. Rather, the film that would help return werewolves to the mainstream consciousness would instead be another horror action movie by the name of Underworld (2003).

Starring Kate Beckinsale as a vampire/vampire-hunter, Underworld presents us with a secret world in which bloodsuckers battle werewolves (here referred to as "lycans") for total domination. Though heavy on the CGI effects, the movie represented a return to the "monster vs. monster" vibe that had pitted vampires and werewolves against each other in the movies of decades gone by.

The premise was a big hit with fans, proving that people always love to see monsters fighting each other. In fact, Underworld would grow into a full-fledged franchise. The sequel, Underworld: Evolution, would be released three years later. And just this year, we got the third installment, a prequel that showed us the beginnings of the vampire/lycan war. Proving the staying power of the concept, this third movie didn't even feature Beckinsale, and still managed to be a decent success with audiences.

This would be in stark contrast to what should have been another triumphant return to old-school werewolfery--namely Van Helsing, Universal's lame 2004 attempt to reinvigorate its central horror characters. The film had all the markings of success, including Hugh Jackman in the title role, and director Stephen Sommers, the same man who had brought The Mummy back to life some five years earlier.

Featuring Dracula, the Frankenstein Monster, the Wolf Man and other classic creatures, Van Helsing was supposed to be a good old-fashioned monsterfest that would please both classic horror fans and newbies. Nevertheless, it was a colossal failure both critically and with audiences. Ironically, it would be the Underworld series that did a better job of returning werewolf mayhem to American prominence than the legendary Universal Studios itself, home of Lon Chaney Jr. and Henry Hull.

There's no question that films like Dog Soldiers and Underworld have kept modern audiences interested in the concept of the werewolf. Something about the idea of a man transforming into a beast, of the monster within being unleashed, is enthralling to us. We see it in other classic creations like Jekyll & Hyde, and even the Hulk. And recent films like the German production Blood and Chocolate (2007) continue to keep the subgenre going strong.

Now the saga of the lycanthrope stands at a pivotal turning point. This fall will see the long-awaited release of Universal's full-scale remake of the Chaney classic The Wolf Man, starring Benicio del Toro, with Anthony Hopkins in the Claude Rains role. After all these years, and all the other classic monster retreads, this is the first time that the most famous werewolf story of all is getting the remake treatment.

Will audiences accept it? The project has been plagued with issues since the beginning, including director musical chairs, and recent news of extensive reshoots. And so fans of one of horror's most enduring creatures wait with bated breath to see what the future holds for their beloved beasty. But one thing's for sure, whether it's a hit or a miss, the new Wolf Man will most certainly not be the last time we hear that distinctive howl in movie theaters...

Part 1: "...And the Moon Is Full and Bright"
Part 2: "Bad Moon Rising"

"Bad Moon Rising": A History of Werewolf Movies, Part 2

Following Hammer's one and only attempt at the werewolf subgenre, 1961's The Curse of the Werewolf, it seemed that the cinematic lycanthrope was finally ready to go into hibernation. From Henry Hull to Lon Chaney to Oliver Reed, it appeared that one of the movie's classic monsters had run its course.

But there were much brighter days ahead. And meanwhile, as the werewolf ducked out of sight in the English-speaking world, there would be one man who would keep the creature alive during the dark days of the 1960s and 1970s. That man was the Spanish film jack-of-all-trades, Paul Naschy. As the Spanish horror industry waxed during the '60s, Naschy was there to represent for the wolfman, mainly in the role of screenwriter.

Beginning with The Night of the Wolf Man (1968), Naschy was responsible for a total of ten Spanish werewolf films, eight of which were put out during a time when the U.S. was decidedly mum on the subject. Yes, they were cheesy and garish, but Naschy's exploits as wolfman Waldemar Daninsky are nevertheless cherished by werewolf aficionados the world over.

Meanwhile, States-side, it had been ages since a major werewolf film had truly rocked horror fans to their foundations. That would all change at the beginning of the 1980s, when what was old was made fresh and new in not only one of the most revolutionary werewolf films, but one of the most revolutionary horror films of all time, John Landis' An American Werewolf in London (1981).

A scathing horror satire, AWIL was almost single-handedly responsible for rejuvenating what many had written off as a tired vestige of the bygone Universal days. But Landis' film refused to accept such a pronouncement, paying homage to earlier movies while also boldly charting new territory. The makeup effects of Rick Baker gave us a movie werewolf unlike any we had seen before, decidedly less human and much more animalistic, resembling much more a wolf than a man.

And the transformation effects would become the stuff of legend, landing Baker an easy Oscar and raising the bar for any filmed metamorphoses since. More visceral, more graphic, and more realistic than any werewolf film seen before, An American Werewolf in London raised the entire subgenre from out of oblivion for the first time in two decades.

All of a sudden, lycanthropes were cool again. And a renaissance of werewolf cinema ensued. In fact, with all due respect to the 1940s, it would definitely not be an exaggeration to call it a "golden age" of sorts. Certainly no other period before or since the 1980s gave us such a plethora of quality werewolf movies, one after the other.

In actual fact, it is somewhat unfair to credit it all to AWIL. Although it was the most influential, the summer of 1981 saw two other modern werewolf classics hit the screen. The first was Joe Dante's The Howling, another effective horror comedy that paid homage to the established mythos, with a star-studded cast of genre faves such as Patrick MacNee, John Carradine and Kevin McCarthy. Then there was Wolfen, based on the Whitley Streiber novel--a much more serious and straight-ahead horror story than the other two.

Among the three of them, AWIL, The Howling and Wolfen packed a serious punch, delivering on the gore, and on special effects that seemed light years away from the days of time-lapse closeups on Lon Chaney Jr.'s face. In fact, The Howling would produce six (generally reviled) sequels over the next 14 years. And in many ways, it could be said that the werewolf subgenre is still reacting to the summer of 1981...

Three years later, visionary director Neil Jordan gave us The Company of Wolves, an excellent horror/fantasy that blended the werewolf mythos with traditional fairy tale elements, resulting in a bizarre Brothers-Grimm style take on the subject that brought something truly new to the table. Clearly, the creative imagination of many had been sparked thanks to the werewolf rebirth.

The decade would see Stephen King's novella Cycle of the Werewolf get adapted into Silver Bullet (1985), starring '80s icons Gary Busey and Corey Haim. There would also be Waxwork (1988), a decent take on the old wax-museum subgenre which incorporated a werewolf into its cornucopia of movie monsters.

So successful was the werewolf boom that, by the latter half of the '80s, the signs had begun to show that it was crossing over into that one area that, while always entertaining, also usually signals the beginning of the end: parody.

Breakout TV star Michael J. Fox, fresh off his crossover smash Back to the Future, starred in Teen Wolf (1985), a throwback to the old I Was a Teenage Werewolf concept of the 1950s, played for laughs. This gave rise to the inevitable Teen Wolf Too (1987), a lame retread which lacked even the quaint appeal of its predecessor. And of course, that very same year gave us the nostalgically-beloved The Monster Squad--a slavish tribute to the Universal era if ever there was one--which saw a Chaney-esque Wolf Man team up with his fellow old-school Universal baddies to take on a team of kids. Think Ghostbusters meets The Goonies...

Just like that, the werewolf had returned to its more Wolf-Man-like earlier incarnation, abandoning the work established by Landis and Dante in favor of a less-threatening approach that took itself far less seriously. Once again, it seemed like the werewolf had returned to the realm of the hokey and the decidedly unscary. Funny how that cycle swings back and forth, isn't it?

With the exception of those endless Howling sequels, werewolf movies would return to the void for the most part once again. They had enjoyed a true golden age, one which has yet to be equalled. But that doesn't mean the story is over. Because just like any movie monster worth its salt, the werewolf--or should I say lycan?--would eventually rise again.

Soon to Come: Part 3 - "Rise of the Lycans"

Part 1: "...And the Moon Is Full and Bright"

"...And the Moon Is Full and Bright": A History of Werewolf Movies, Part 1

With the highly anticipated Benicio del Toro remake of Universal's The Wolf Man on the way this fall, the time is ripe to take a long, considered look at the history of one of the horror genre's most venerable and beloved sub-categories. Although not quite as popular as its cousin the vampire, and perhaps not as thoroughly explored cinematically, the lycanthrope has nevertheless provided us with some of the most terrifying films ever made.

A beast whose origins go back nearly to the beginnings of Western civilization, the mythological being who can transform from man to wolf under the influence of the full moon has gone through its fair share of Hollywood-ization, much like its blood-drinking brethren. And in general, the history of werewolf films can be divided into three major eras. Today we will take a look at the first.

The earliest known werewolf movie would be the 1913 short film, The Werewolf, unfortunately now lost. Following that was the 1923 French effort, Le loup-garou. But unlike the vampire subgenre, which can be found alive and well even in the earliest silent era of film, in order to find the earliest major werewolf film, one must jump ahead to the 1930s, and a time when talkies were already in full bloom. The year is 1935, and Universal, the studio which has made a name for itself producing films about Dracula, Frankenstein, The Invisible Man and The Mummy, has turned its attentions at last to the legend of the werewolf.

The movie is Werewolf of London, and for some connoissuers of vintage horror, it remains the high watermark of lycanthrope cinema. Henry Hull stars as Dr. Glendon, and English botanist who falls under the curse of the werewolf after being bitten on an expedition in the Himalayas. The vast bulk of cinema's take on the werewolf legend is already established in this one film: the transmission through biting, the transformation under the full moon, the beast's desire to destroy that which its human half loves most.

The makeup created by Jack Pierce is striking, and Hull's humanoid, intelligent portrayal of the creature is quite unique, giving us one of the only talking werewolves of the silver screen. The film also puts the transformation scene front and center, a tradition that would continue throughout the history of the subgenre. Werewolf of London remains one of the most influential, and yet also one of the most underrated horror films of the Universal canon.

And yet, for whatever reason, in its own day, Werewolf of London did not resonate with audiences to the same degree that previous Universal efforts had. A sequel was never produced. Rather, six years later, when Universal finally returned to the subgenre, it would be with an entirely unrelated film, starting from scratch with an entirely new continuity and character. The result would be the single most famous werewolf film ever produced--a work that would afford the creature a permanent place in the horror movie lexicon.

Lon Chaney Jr., son of the world-famous silent horror movie megastar, was hired to play the ill-fated Lawrence Talbot, the son of a Welsh nobleman who is bitten on the moors of his native land, and suffers the subsequent curse of the werewolf. In the role of his father, Universal alum Claude Rains returned to the horror genre. And completing the trifecta was the one and only Bela Lugosi, who portrays the wolf that turns Talbot in the first place.

The reasons for the film's endurance are many. A taut and layered script by the great Curt Siodmak, and one of Jack Pierce's most iconic makeup creations are among them. But it is Chaney's tragic and sympathetic portrayal of the doomed soul Talbot that anchors the picture and lends it the pathos that most likely helped the film become the success that Werewolf of London was not. We feel for Talbot as he struggles hopelessly with the monster within him, yearning for nothing more than death.

The Wolf Man was Universal's first major success of the 1940s, a decade which saw the studio lose a step or two in its horror output from its golden era in the 1930s. Chaney's monster was such a popular one that it took its place in what would come to be known as classic horror's "holy trinity" of sorts, alongside Lugosi's Dracula and Boris Karloff's Frankenstein Monster.

Chaney's portrayal was so appreciated, in fact, that the actor would be brought back on four more occasions to play the Wolf Man, making the creature the only one in the Universal pantheon to be played by the same actor in every one of its appearances. The first return of the character came in 1943's Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, which was also the first of the "monster team-up" movies to come out of the movie studio, marking a distinct evolution of the category from genuine fright films into more fun, juvenile, comic book-style fare.

After doing battle with Bela Lugosi's Frankenstein Monster, Chaney reprised his role in Universal's two mega-monster blowouts of the mid-1940s, House of Frankenstein (1944) and House of Dracula (1945). Alongside John Carradine as the Count and Glenn Strange as the Monster, Chaney's Talbot continued his seemingly never-ending search to either cure or kill himself. In the meantime, much innocent monster fun was had. Interestingly, it is Chaney's Wolf Man storyline which holds these two late entries together, providing the backbone of the narrative.

So closely associated with the character was Chaney, that he was brought back one last time for what wiould be the ultimate stage in the evolution of Universal's stable of classic monsters: the 1948 horror-comedy classic, Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein. Once again, Chaney provides the heart of the narrative, playing sobbing straight man to the bumbling genius of Bud and Lou. Particularly memorable is the famous scene in which Lou Costello comes within a hair of being mauled by the beast while sneaking into Talbot's hotel room to steal a fruit.

Although cherished today, at the time A&CMF was looked down on by "horror purists", and even Chaney himself later deplored the film for bringing an end the Universal monster cycle. One thing was for certain, and it was that the Wolf Man had finally run out of steam. Chaney's hand-wringing routine had, at last, worn thin.

Only one other film was produced during this time by Universal, or any other studio, that made any attempt to keep the werewolf alive. It was the somewhat obscure She-Wolf of London, starring a young June Lockhart as the screen's first female lycanthrope. Made a year after the final "serious" Wolf Man picture, She-Wolf of London can be seen as something of a last-ditch attempt to capitalize on the name value of the previous decade's Werewolf of London, although the two films are narratively unrelated.

Horror films in general went into something of a tailspin following World War II, and werewolf films were no different. A new approach was certainly required, and it took Hollywood nearly a decade to finally recover and come up with some fresh ideas.

Finally, in 1956, B-movie impresario Sam Katzman reopened the book on the subgenre with the rather straightforwardly titled, The Werewolf. Although heavily influenced by The Wolf Man, as can be seen in Steven Ritch's portrayal of the ill-fated Duncan Marsh, the movie is very much a product of the atom-age terrors that dominated the new style of horror then emerging. Much like the giant monsters of the era, Marsh's lycanthropy is brought on by scientific experimentation gone terribly wrong--specifically atomic experimentation.

Gone are the trappings of the supernatural that had always been a part of the werewolf legend--this film's creature was a creature rooted in science, exploiting the fears which then gripped much of the American public. It was an interesting take on an old gimmick, and proved that the subgenre did indeed have legs. The film is also notable for its breathtaking location shots at California's Big Bear Lake.

The following year brought audiences one of the most well-remembered cult movies of the era, I Was a Teenage Werewolf, starring a very young Michael Landon and produced by another giant in the realm of B-movies, American Internation Pictures' Samuel J. Arkoff. Continuing the theme of science gone wrong, and also capitalizing on the rising youth movement that had overtaken popular culture, the flick proved a major drive-in success, and led to such follow-ups as I Was a Teenage of Frankenstein, and I Was a Teenage Mummy.

It was right around this time that Hammer Films, a studio from across the pond in Great Britain, was beginning to make waves with their own innovative takes on traditional Universal monsters. The late 1950s saw Hammer's versions of Dracula and Frankenstein launch into horror immortality, bringing a much more garish, gory and sensational approach than had ever been seen before. Attention to period detail, over-the-top English scenery-chewing, and more blood and outright sexuality than had ever been previously seen in cinematic horror were among the hallmarks of the new studio's attention-grabbing output.

It only made sense that eventually, Hammer would have to make its mark on the werewolf subgenre. And so, in 1961, Hammer gave us The Curse of the Werewolf, starring the dashing Oliver Reed as the titular lycanthrope. Set in 19th century Spain, the film is much more visceral than any werewolf movie yet seen--this wolf draws real blood, and his predatory nature is explained rather explicitly as having a sexual subtext. It is without question one of the absolute gems of werewolf cinema.

And yet, much like Universal's first attempt some 25 years earlier, The Curse of the Werewolf was something of a flop for Hammer, which came as a shock following the resounding success of films like Horror of Dracula, The Curse of Frankenstein and The Mummy. As a result, the Terence Fisher-directed Curse would be Hammer's one and only werewolf-themed production, thus making it all the more special.

Following Hammer's box office failure at continuing the tradition established by Universal, the werewolf effectively went into mothballs. It appeared as if there was nothing new to say, and no new way to breath life into the old boy. It would take a full 20 years, and an entire remaking of the cinematic horror landscape, to finally bring the beast out of its hibernation. And when it finally did return, it marked the dawning of what many would consider to be a golden age of werewolf flicks.

London would be the setting once again. But this time, the werewolf would be American.

Soon to Come: Part 2 - "Bad Moon Rising"