So I’ve noticed over the past few years that whenever I ask someone if they’ve seen the movie An American Werewolf in London, they give me a look like I’m complete trash and say, “Uh, no?” At which point I have to explain that I am not, in fact, talking about the mid-nineties horror dud An American Werewolf in Paris. Two different European cities here, people! The Paris-based flick was widely panned by audiences and critics alike, and had the kind of laughable premise endemic to sequels. It also had CGI, which we’ve pretty much decided at this point can get very bad, very fast.
To contrast: An American Werewolf in London has Griffin Dunne (of the Dunne dynasty), the North Yorkshire Moors, and a kickass soundtrack featuring Van Morrison and Creedence (but not, oddly enough, Warren Zevon.) It manages to be actually funny and actually frightening simultaneously, which the sequel, it goes without saying, does not. There’s also a steamy shower sex scene, which the adults with whom I watched it at the tender age of ten or so wisely fast-forwarded through. (I’ve since seen it, though.)
In conclusion, please do not mix up these two films. It is like mixing up good Stilton and American cheese, no pun intended. Now, I’m off to get a pina colada at Trader Vic’s. Keep it real, kids.