The Bubble Film: The Rise and Fall of John Landis and the 80s Cult Classic

Originally published (in an edited form!) on The Bubble Film, available here.

What do you think of when you think of film in the 1980s? Return of the Jedi, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Back to the Future, Top Gun? They’re all classics, of course. But the truth is that some of the most definitive and influential 80s movies didn’t bust quite as many blocks. There are, in fact, two directors without whom the 80s would not have been what they were. One was John Hughes, the late auteur of The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off among others, who perfectly summed up teenage life for a generation. The other, much less well-known today, was John Landis.

Landis might not be the most renowned compared to the Spielbergs and Burtons of Hollywood, but he comes with a pedigree of his own. After various minor jobs on films such as One Upon a Time in the West he was offered his first directing job for Universal, the supremely immature, bad taste and yet hilarious campus comedy National Lampoon’s Animal House (1978).  From there began an impressive run of Hollywood success.

The 1980s were easily the peak of Landis’ career. The Blues Brothers (1980), which he co-wrote with Dan Aykroyd, features classic soul artists including Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles in acting roles in which they perform their own hits. It’s endlessly quotable: "It's 200 miles to Chicago; we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's night time, and we're wearing sunglasses.” “Hit it.” Part road movie, part buddy movie, part musical, it boasts a mixture of seemingly disparate elements held together by flawed but endearing characters- and Carrie Fisher trying to kill James Belushi by some of the most ridiculous means you’ve ever seen.

More than this, however, he redefined a genre with arguably his best film, comedy-horror An American Werewolf in London (1981), which boasted groundbreaking special effects- makeup impresario Rick Baker created some of his finest work in the transformation of David Naughton’s hapless tourist into a terrifying hound of hell. What often marks out Landis’ films is music: Landis’ sense of humour shines through. This particular soundtrack includes ‘Moondance’, ‘Blue Moon’, and ‘Bad Moon Rising’, which may raise a laugh with their all-too-appropriate titles but also fit perfectly in their context in the film. Gloriously bad geography aside (apparently you can pass out in the Yorkshire Dales and wake up in a London hospital), there are few films that have better exemplified the term “cult classic”. Just try to forget the fact that anyone made a sequel set in Paris: that’s frightening for all the wrong reasons.

There may have been misfires in the same period- you can probably guess from the title of Amazon Women on the Moon (1987) - but his star remained in the ascendancy with numerous more popular comedies throughout the decade. His impressive résumé as a director of adverts and TV continued to grow, American Werewolf having inspired Michael Jackson to hire him to write and direct the most famous music video ever, Thriller, in 1983. The 80s zeitgeist, however, eventually faded away, and so did Landis’ film career. The same is true of the kind of film which defined him.

Landis’ greatest films belong to that unique category of the cult classic. In this instance ‘cult’ doesn’t have to mean ‘low budget’- The Blues Brothers was the most expensive film Universal had ever made at the time- or even ‘unpopular’- though it could be argued that American Werewolf fits that profile better. It’s ultimately a title reserved for those slightly quirky, unconventional films which don’t perfectly fit into the mainstream of the industry. ‘Classic’, of course, is a matter of taste and the test of time, but I would argue that neither of these films has dated badly: they are clearly of their time, but not to an alienating extent. In fact, for modern audiences that’s part of their appeal. Many films popular at the time have since fallen into this category, such as John Hughes’ oeuvre, as times and the industry have changed.

That change has been demonstrated in the type of films being produced for the same market. Hughes’ teen comedies have been replaced with the gross-out humour of American Pie and Superbad, films which borrow more from Landis’ Animal House; but it’s hard to think of another film which occupies similar territory to The Blues Brothers and American Werewolf on the margins of the cinematic canon.

It may be this unique but limited success that Landis will hope to build on with his return to the big screen in Burke & Hare. For inspiration it takes the true story of the eponymous grave robbers in Victorian Edinburgh whose business is booming - until they start running out of fresh bodies to sell to the medical profession. Then they turn their hands to murder to meet demand. The production has been taken on by the new incarnation of Ealing Studios: its earlier form was responsible for The Ladykillers (1955) and Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), which Landis has always claimed as major influences (and significantly, both of which are comic expositions of murderers). The tone of Burke and Hare is intended to recapture the none-more-black humour of these films which also comes through in American Werewolf: the shocking things the protagonists do are always offset by snappy dialogue and an abiding affection which wants them to get away with it.

The impressive cast list should help him perfect this affection- Burke and Hare are played by Simon Pegg and Andy Serkis respectively (Serkis stepped in after David Tennant had to pull out), who must be among the most lovable actors Britain has produced. Hardly the Anthony Hopkins school of serial killers. The interesting thing is that although the subject matter is more reminiscent of American Werewolf, the endearing, hapless double act at the plot’s core ensures that the film plays more like The Blues Brothers, with moments of genuine farce into the bargain. See, for example, a scene where they break the back of a dead body to force it into a barrel and then roll, drop and chase it down the street until it crashes into a shop window. Perhaps this hybrid’s lack of success (gross to date is less than £2 million) is proof that the appetite for new films of this nature has faded; or maybe that the public objected to Isla Fisher’s Scottish (?) accent. Still the enduring appeal of its ancestors shows that there will always be a lasting nostalgia for the great 1980s cult classic- just so long as it isn’t Amazon Women on the Moon.