An American Werewolf in London, Chuck Biscuits, and DOA

So I went to see An American Werewolf in London theatrically for the first time the other day since my Dad took me when I was 15. I do love this film. It screens again on Wednesday - a legitimate case of "see you next Wednesday," though I won't actually be there - and Thursday; the best way to keep track of what is playing at the VIFF Centre is with either the print copy of their program, or the PDF of it (they really should imitate the Cinematheque's vastly more user-friendly design for their website, which is a bit challenging). A few random observations about the film:

I am told by a source I trust (hi, Bev) that the phone booth in Picadilly Circus is not real, but a prop. Read the graffiti on it - it's almost all punk names, and the enigmatic phrase "Garfath Does Parties," discussed here. Apparently ace DOA drummer Chuck Biscuits was mildly obsessed with this movie, when Bev went with DOA to London around this time. And speaking of Chuck, his demos for War on 45 are all over side two of the 40th anniversary re-issue of that album, if you're curious. Apparently there are only 20 copies of the splatter vinyl available; I settled for the cherry red, of which there are 500. The demos on side B are a definite draw; the songs for the original EP is now on side A of the LP-length release, to accommodate the demo release, which also includes early versions of "Rent-a-Riot," "Race Riot," "No Way Out" and "No God No War." More info here, but I'm guessing the splatter is sold out!)

Oh, and the Repent! You Fucking Savages! Repent! art is on the back cover. I've wanted a 3XL t-shirt of this for awhile but will settle for an album cover.

But back to An American Werewolf. The thing that appeals to me most about this movie is how rich it is subtextually. The film, to my mind, is about a young man, ambivalent about adulthood and all that it implies - sexuality, authority, and his role in the world - being confronted by the "horrors" of the old world (the stuff in East Proctor is pure folk horror), to say nothing of the horrors of his own own animal nature. Like many young men, his closest alliance is with another man (which I've noted gives a very workable entry point for a queer reading of the film); his becoming a werewolf is paralleled to his budding sexual relationship with Nurse Price, and his lycanthropy no less a metaphor for newfound sexual self-confidence than it is for the protagonist of Ginger Snaps. It's a very funny, very sharp film, but so much is going on under its surface, probably on a level that the filmmaker himself has very little insight into, that I've always found it fascinating. I am not a huge fan of Landis, truth be known - I love this film, like Schlock, and really want to like Into the Night, which I return to every few years, though the last couple of times I've tried it, I've found its pacing not working so well. But I was so delighted by revisiting An American Werewolf in London that I actually broke out a blu of Three Amigos, thinking I would try something very different from him, but... no, thanks, not my thing at all.

An American Werewolf in London is a great film, though, and a real pleasure to see on the screen...  tho' amusingly, there was a glitch with the screening and the first few minutes played with no dialogue and no sheep bleating, only the sound of the wind on the moors. They fixed it soon enough, and re-started the film, but I was enjoying how much more somber a tone was set by the first few minutes if you lose the sheep. Who knew that sheep bleats would lighten the tone of scene so? 

Oh: watch the posters in the London subway scenes, and you'll see Cassavetes' Gloria and other fun film nods.  And speaking of posters, the Video Cat lounge on the second floor has some really cool ones (and a working DVD setup, if you want to watch one of the movies on hand).