I had the absolute… pleasure?… of sitting down with Rebecca Rowland’s character Daniel (the press owner AND yara-ma-yha-who/boogeyman) from Shagging the Boss, a weird horror novelette published by Filthy Loot Press (June 2022). It made me completely look at Daniel in a different way, and made me enjoy his story even more. (Review coming soon.)
“Lesson number one: don’t get attached to anyone. Being a cannibal is the only way to truly succeed in this business.” He placed one hand on the door handle, then thought a moment and smiled to himself. “The problem is, once you take a bite, it will never be enough.”
After a fortuitous encounter at a local book convention, a liberal arts graduate accepts a position at a flashy publishing company under the tutelage of its charismatic owner only to learn that the press is led, and fed, by a rapacious boogeyman.
Meghan: What is one word you would use to define yourself?
Daniel: One of the other characters in the book calls me a “collector.” I rather prefer the term “collaborator.” I never take anything that isn’t offered readily.
Meghan: Do you see yourself as the “good guy” or the “bad guy”?
Daniel: I don’t think such dichotomies really exist, do you? Everything I consume benefits my authors as well: we have true symbiotic relationships. I take a bit of them and they receive a bit of… immortality, shall we say.
Meghan: What does the plot require you to be? How does this requirement limit you?
Daniel: Rowland paints me as the villain, and I think that is quite unfair. A villain has evil intentions and commits evil acts. My ingénue needed a foothold in the publishing community, and that is what I offered, no strings attached. But no, I don’t think I’ve been limited by that portrayal at all. I ask you: is an alligator limited by those perky “warning” signs posted all about the Florida swamplands? Of course not. It knows that sooner or later, someone is going to traipse through the area, whether out of curiosity or stupidity or because they need a… service done (can you imagine how many bodies have been neatly disposed of that way?). The humans have a need, and the gator has to feed. It’s mutual beneficial. There’s nothing evil about that at all.
Meghan: What is your quest? What do you hope to accomplish, find, or become during the course of your book/series?
Daniel: I perform a service for which I am richly rewarded. I have little need for anything material and I rarely travel: my office is within walking distance from my home. (To be perfectly honest, I’ve become a bit of a shut-in, really. The damn pandemic didn’t help the matter). I can’t imagine I will ever find myself starving: everyone wants to outlive their natural lives, don’t they? And the celebrities… their narcissism alone keeps me more than satiated (rubs his stomach). I just keep on keeping on: isn’t that what you Americans say?
Meghan: When was the last time you lied? What made you do it?
Daniel: I don’t lie to anyone. What people assume on their own is out of my control. It’s always interesting to see how humans rationalize a flexibility in their moral code when they want something badly enough. Youth, beauty, power, importance…they are all bargaining chips in the game. I’ve never needed to lie. My clients lie to themselves all on their own.
Meghan: Who have you betrayed lately? What happened?
Daniel: I don’t believe there is such a thing as betrayal. People go into relationships with their eyes wide open. If they choose to shut them from time to time because they don’t enjoy the view, that is on their own conscience. I was very open with the book’s narrator from the get go: I explained exactly what I was and what I needed in an employee. What occurred later on…well, we’ll leave that to the reader to interpret.
Meghan: Would you say that you are an optimist or a pessimist?
Daniel: I’m a realist. You don’t succeed in this business without first coming to terms with how the world really works. Everything is give and take. It’s the people who don’t like what they must give in return who frame interactions in a negative light. Sour grapes, perhaps.
Meghan: What is your superpower?
Daniel: I am a yara-ma-yha-who. Stories about my kind have lurked about Aboriginal mythology since the beginning of time. I can consume my victims in one gulp, make them shiny and new—make them relevant again. Isn’t that what every author wants, to be seen, read, remembered? I’m also able to pass along my—what did you call it? superpower to others, but you’ll have to read the book to learn how that works. Humans never learn, though: once one develops the hunger, there is no way to satisfy it, not completely. In that sense, being a boogeyman, even a successful one, is not so much a gift as it is a curse.
Meghan: What is your biggest secret?
Daniel: My company publishes a variety of books, but truth be told, I’ve never been fond of erotica. The authors are much too salty. (winks)
Meghan: Do you live in the right world? How necessary are you to your world? What is your role in this setting?
Daniel: As I mention in the book, most of my kind reside on the west coast: Hollywood, it seems, is a never-ending factory of needy children, jumping and screaming for perpetual attention, so there is always work to be had. Boston has a terrible winter season. The wind chill keeps most of the other boogeymen from settling here. I’m in constant demand, so I’ve never… gone hungry, so to speak.
Meghan: Did you turn out the way you expected?
Daniel: That, I’m afraid, you’d have to learn by reading the story. (winks)
Meghan: How do you feel about your author?
Daniel: Oh, Rowland seems liked she’d be quite tasty. ‘Needs a bit more experience, though. Too many empty calories aren’t good for the digestion, I always say. She’s had a bit of a successful run this year: two books released along with three collections curated, and a few more on the way for 2023. (Pauses to consider) I may have to invite her for dinner one of these nights after all.
Meghan: If the two of you got together for coffee, what would you want to say to them?
Daniel: You couldn’t have titled the book something better? People might pass on giving it a look because they think it’s one of those god-awful workplace soap operas and not the transgressive weird horror it is. Rethink your branding, my ingénue.
Boo-graphy: Rebecca Rowland is the dark fiction author of The Horrors Hiding in Plain Sight, Pieces, Shagging the Boss, Optic Nerve, and the upcoming White Trash & Recycled Nightmares and is the curator of seven horror anthologies. Her short fiction, critical essays, and book reviews regularly appear in a variety of online and print venues. She is an Active member of the Horror Writers Association and lives in a chilly corner of New England with her family. To surreptitiously stalk her, visit her website. To take a peek at what shiny object she’s fixating on these days, follow her on Instagram.
Meghan: What is one word you would use to define yourself?
Smith: Insightful!
Meghan: Do you see yourself as the “good guy” or the “bad guy”?
Smith: A good guy? No way! I’m clearly a great guy. Seriously, though, as an intrepid and insightful reporter I am clearly the good guy in my stories.
And also a great guy.
Meghan: What does the plot require you to be? How does this requirement limit you?
Smith: The plot requires me to be constantly on the lookout for the news stories that my readers deserve to read about.
Because I’m always on the job and not afraid to report things as I see them, people are often nervous around me – as you can tell from my stories. It’s just the price I have to pay for being such a dedicated reporter.
Meghan: What is your quest?
Smith: Finding that One Big Story. You know the one, right? Yeah, that’s right. The one that everybody is talking about… or will be talking about once I find it.
Meghan: What do you hope to accomplish, find, or become during the course of your stories?
Smith: I’d really like to find the perfect fedora with a Press tag sticking out of the band. Class reporter style.
Meghan: What do you like about the other main characters? What do you least like about the other main characters?
Smith: I like that they are such good sports about the fact that my piercing insight reveals all of the little secrets they try to hide from me. There’s no pulling the wool over the eyes of Smith from the Times!
Well, Dr D’s full name, Durron-uu-obezai, contains an excessive amount of hyphens and u’s for somebody who is just an average Joe.
Meghan: When was the last time you lied? What made you do it?
Smith: A reporter should never lie. A reporter without integrity might as well just be, and probably is, writing fiction.
Meghan: Who have you betrayed lately? What happened?
Smith: A person would have to be a pretty terrible reporter to betray a trust! It goes back to integrity.
Meghan: Would you say that you are an optimist or a pessimist?
Smith: From my stories, I believe that it is pretty clear that I am a realist.
Meghan: What is your superpower?
Smith: My superpower would have to be piercing insight and ability to get to the truth.
Meghan: What is your biggest secret?
Smith: My recipe for spicy jalapeno chicken roll-ups.
Meghan: Do you live in the right world? How necessary are you to your world?
Smith: I definitely live in the right world. I’m very necessary to my world – if it weren’t for me, people would have to get all their insightful news from Tan from the Sun. That would be terrible.
Meghan: What is your role in this setting? Are you okay with this role or would you like it to change?
Smith: I’m the daring and insightful reporter whose readers depend on him for new stories about the things they care about the most. I am totally okay with this role.
Meghan: Did you turn out the way you expected?
Smith: Even better!
Meghan: What, if anything, would you change about your life?
Smith: A more generous expense account would be great.
Meghan: How do you feel about your author?
Smith: He’s a great guy as well as a clever and entertaining writer.
Meghan: If the two of you got together for coffee, what would you want to say to him?
Smith: I’d want to know what his plans were for taking over the world. Clearly, he must have them.
Boo-graphy: Dan Zeidler is a writer of science fiction and fantasy and the author of the upcoming fantasy adventure duology, Sarbotel Rising, the sci-fi adventure, Ghosts of a Fallen Empire, and a number of anthology short stories. Dan began expressing his love of writing at an early age with the parentally acclaimed poem Trains are Great which along with other early examples of his work earned a place on the prestigious Refrigerator Magnet Gallery. While nothing can be done for his poetry skills, which haven’t improved a whit since that train poem, a steady diet of great stories ranging from ancient mythological tales to Arthurian legends to classic sci-fi and fantasy and on up to Star Trek and Star Wars have improved his storytelling abilities considerably. To further refine and enhance his writing and storytelling skills, Dan lived a life of adventure first by getting a degree in geoscience, then by serving in the US Air Force, then by embarking on a career as a data analyst… hmmm… okay, let’s go back a bit to the part about how a lifetime of reading as many great stories (and many not so great stories) as he could have inspired Dan to write his own stories; stories that above all strive to be fun and entertaining reads. Dan currently resides with his family among the rugged, forested hills of his home state of Connecticut.
Ghosts of a Fallen Empire In the distant future an isolated human world has survived the Nomad Wars and the Fall of Imperium. Together with their non-human allies, the Dussakairay and the Bregus, they repopulated and rebuilt their devastated region of the galaxy to form a 40 system Commonwealth. For over five centuries the people of the Commonwealth have known only peace and prosperity, but an ancient enemy has been watching from the ruins of the old Imperium, slowly rebuilding their forces, and waiting for their opportunity to reduce the Commonwealth to ashes. The founders of the Commonwealth may have given up their Imperium, but they did not give up all of the Imperium’s secrets. Now the only hope for the people of the Commonwealth lies with the Ghosts of a Fallen Empire.
Is your library haunted? Are you sure? Many readers wander the shelves, returning over and over to the place their spirit calls home. Some of them are still in circulation, even after their bodies have checked out. Others are part of the deep archives from before the books moved in…
Join 11 authors as they explore haunts from the past, the future, and the dead.
Ghosts of Malta Malta. Alchemists, Saints and Heroes have all made their way to this place, defended its walls, and added to its ranks of ghosts and lore.
Besieged, battered, and bombed, this archipelago has seen every tide of war, turmoil, and more than a few bits of piracy. It’s also been the land of courage, resilience, and grace under fire.
Ten authors have set out to bring you tales of the ghosts of Malta past, present, and future. Open the pages and meet the ancient guardians, ghost cats and inter dimensional spies that will be your guide…
So the lady says to me, “Are you tan from the sun?” and I reply “No – I’m Smith from the Times.”
Heh – a little reporter humor to lighten the mood there. At any rate, where was I?
Oh yeah…
“Who? Me? Come now Mister Smith, do I really look like an evil sorcerer from another world maniacally bent on global domination?” Doctor Durron-uu-obezai said over his steepled talons. I had a feeling he was smiling at me, but to be honest it was hard to tell.
“Aside from the claws, the glowing eyes, and the stylish though functional otherworldly headdress with attached cape, Doctor Durron-uu-obezai?” I looked up from my notepad feeling slightly confused.
“Erhm…yes…yes, aside from those.” The Doctor placed one hand over his chest and extended the other toward me. “Please, call me Doctor D. My public relations people say it humanizes me.”
“Why, yes – it does at that Doctor D,” I said as I made a note of the new moniker. “I really apologize for asking a question like that – I mean it is obvious to me and any other sane person that you are just an average Joe like the rest of us.”
Doctor D laughed jovially like a department store Santa with a bad hangover. I had not realized that “Mua ha ha ha ha ha haaa” could sound jovial, but he made it work. “That’s me, Mister Smith, just an average Joe with a unique fashion sense.”
“And a Legion of Darkness, Doctor D, you can’t forget that.”
“A Legion of what? What on Target Epsilon Five- erhm, Earth are you talking about, Mister Smith?”
It was then the massive double doors at the far end of the cavernous hall opened just enough to allow a single figure wearing dark black armor to enter the hall. He paused for a moment and then began running towards us. As the sound of his metal shod feet striking the floor rolled across the hall to where we sat I turned back to Doctor D.
“Like him for example, Doctor D. That creepy armor and those glowing red eyes just scream Legion of Darkness to some of our more flighty readers.” I glanced back at the armored figure and saw he was still running towards us.
“Oh! Oh yes, I see it now… erhm… but only if I, ah, squint my eyes. Some of your readers have the most amusing flights of fancy, Mister Smith,” Doctor D chuckled as the armored figure continued running. The figure’s pace seemed to have slowed down somewhat.
“Indeed they do Doctor D – that’s why I get assigned all the tough stories like this one. People know that I cut right through the nonsense and get to the truth of the matter.” I grinned at the doctor and looked back at the armored man. His pace had slowed further and he seemed to be breathing heavily.
“That’s what I like about you, Mister Smith – there is no pulling the wool over your eyes,” Doctor D looked away from me and back to the armored man. He had stopped running and seemed to be taking a break. Doctor D looked back at me. I looked back at the armored man and then back at Doctor D. I looked down at my watch and Doctor D looked out a window. Then we both looked back at the armored man and then back at each other. Doctor D drummed his fingers on the arm of his vaguely throne-like chair. I studied the tip of my pen for a moment.
“I have to admit that I love the decor here,” I said as the armored man raised one hand and waved to let us know he was okay.
“Oh? Thank you, I, ah, did it all… myself…,” Doctor D said distractedly as the armored man began running again.
“I am a little curious about that skull like object next to your chair though,” I said and motioned toward Doctor D with my pen. “I bet there is a story behind that.”
“Oh this old thing? Heh,” Doctor D said as he used his foot to push the remarkably realistic looking skull under his chair. “That is left over from my, ah, Halloween party. You know how after a big party you always find bits and pieces left of the guests, erhm, left by the guests in the, ah, oddest places… for months afterwards.”
“I know just what you mean Doctor D – except I usually find empty beer bottles, not so much the skull-like objects,” I shrugged my shoulders, “but then I would be willing to wager that my parties aren’t anywhere near as fun as yours are, Doctor D.”
“That would be a safe bet,” Doctor D sighed and sat back in his chair while rolling his eyes skyward. He looked back at the armored man and then back at me. I looked back at the armored man and then out the window. Doctor D looked at his watch. I studied my fingernails for a moment and then looked back at the armor man. He was jogging at a fairly steady pace. I leaned back in my chair and Doctor D leaned forward in his. I cleared my throat. Doctor D coughed quietly. The armored man was almost within speaking distance and he picked up his pace.
“Those are very nice shoes you have on, Mister Smith,” Doctor D said as he looked down at my feet. “They are quite stylish.”
“Thank you. They are very comfortable too.”
“You’ll have to tell me where you bought them before you leave. I tend to be on my feet all day issuing edicts and ultimatums, decreeing fates and things like that. I need a nice looking pair of shoes with good arch support.”
“I am certain I have one of their business cards. I can give you that.”
“That would be marvelous Mister Smith. Thank you.”
“Master… Master…” the armored man gasped as he made his way up the raised dais.
“General! You are such a big joker with that whole Master thing.” Doctor D gave me an apologetic shrug of his shoulders and turned back to the general. “What do you mean by barging into here like this?! Mister Smith is in the middle of conducting an insightful interview into my character.”
“My apologies Mast-, erhm, Mister Smith,” the General said as Doctor D motioned toward me with his head – a very polite man that Doctor. “The, ummm, tour group we have been waiting for has arrived.”
“Tour group? What tour group?” Doctor D looked from me to the General and back again.
“The one with the, ah, gritty anti-hero type young man and the plucky young woman with whom he constantly engages in spirited dialogue laced with sexual innuendo and the bumbling sidekick-type person who could be easily discounted but who would only come back at a crucial moment and ruin everything.”
“Oh yes! That tour group. For a moment I thought you meant the, ah, Grand Worshipful Order of Pillockry tour group,” Doctor D looked at me and chuckled in embarrassment. I had no idea the Grand Worshipful Order of Pillockry offered tour groups. I made a note of it as it was the sort of thing my readers would be interested in knowing.
“They are, ah, due in next week I believe… sir?” the General offered helpfully if hesitantly.
“Erhm, yes, well, please excuse me, Mister Smith,” Doctor D rose and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I need to deal with, ah… actually that works. I need to deal with this tour group personally. Should only take a moment.”
“Take your time Doctor D! I’ll just chat with the General here.”
Once Doctor D had gone I turned to the General and saw he was concentrating on studying his fingertips. I cleared my throat politely and his glowing red orbs swiveled nervously in my direction. Some people could be a little shy when talking with a reporter, but I was used to dealing with it.
“So, General, maybe you could help clear up this little misconception about a Legion of Darkness spreading terror across the globe?”
“Oh… you mean the, ah, photography club?” The General glanced towards the door Doctor D had used to leave the room.
“Photography club?”
“I can’t tell you the number of times we have had people mistake a powerful flash and a good telephoto lens for a death ray.”
“Oh sure! Happens all the time. The thing about the spreading terror probably just comes from folks who are a little camera shy.”
“You know how they are. Heh,” the General tended to end his sentences with a nervous laugh and a glance toward the door. I knew that only proved he was not really a general – must have been a nickname of some sort.
“Yes indeed. Now perhaps you might be able to shed some light as to why the rather oppressed looking people in the nearby village refer to this rather isolated mountain citadel as the Fortress of Doom?”
“Oh? Heh That question again?” The General fidgeted where he stood for a moment. “The locals have a rather odd accent that takes some getting used to before you can understand everything they scream, erhm, say. They don’t call this place the Fortress of Doom – they call it The Orchid’s Bloom. We have a lovely garden… with plenty of… orchids… that, ah, bloom.”
“I see. I knew it had to be something like that.” I glanced outside and saw ink black storm clouds boiling across the sky. A moment later lightning began to rain down from the heavens. “The weather certainly changes quickly around here, doesn’t it General?”
“Ummm. Yes. Would you, ah, care for a cup of coffee or tea by any chance?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It would be no trouble. We just had one of those nifty machines that brews up a single cup of coffee or tea installed in the break room.”
“Tempting as that is, too much caffeine keeps me up all night. You wouldn’t believe the stuff I write at two or three in the morning.”
It was then that I heard Doctor D laugh his jovial laugh again. I motioned toward the sound with my pen. “It must be nice working for a boss who laughs all the time, eh?”
“Erhm… Yes? Yes,” the General glanced toward the door and leaned closer to me. “He does tend to drone on a bit during weekly staff meetings though. The man never met a PowerPoint slide he did not like.”
“I know the type – my boss is the same way. We usually send each other text messages during the particularly dull parts.”
“You do that too? He almost caught me doing that last staff meeting!”
It was then Doctor D returned through the same door he had used to leave. He paused to straighten out his cloak and then walked over to us.
Thankfully the back door was much closer than the front doors.
“My apologies for the delay. I almost discounted the sidekick, but remembered not to at the last moment.” Doctor D nodded at me and then turned to the General. “General you may marshal your, ah…”
“Photography club, sir?”
“Riiiiiight… marshal the photography club for the next phase of our, ah…,” Doctor D motioned almost pleading toward the General. The General raised both his hands helplessly.
“Looks like your secret is out gentlemen,” I said smugly. “You’re making a documentary, aren’t you?”
“Curse you and your piercing insight, Mister Smith,” Doctor D said and glanced over to the General.
“I shall marshal the photography club for the next phase of the… documentary… sir.” the General turned and started to walk toward the front doors.
“Oh for goodness sake – use the back door.” Doctor D said with a wave of his hand.
“Thank you, sir,” the General gave a polite bow and left the room.
“I would like to thank you for your time, Doctor D. I hope you will let me conduct a follow up interview at some point?”
“For you, Mister Smith? Of course!” Doctor D said over his steepled talons and then he laughed again.
Boo-graphy: Dan Zeidler is a writer of science fiction and fantasy and the author of the upcoming fantasy adventure duology, Sarbotel Rising, the sci-fi adventure, Ghosts of a Fallen Empire, and a number of anthology short stories. Dan began expressing his love of writing at an early age with the parentally acclaimed poem Trains are Great which along with other early examples of his work earned a place on the prestigious Refrigerator Magnet Gallery. While nothing can be done for his poetry skills, which haven’t improved a whit since that train poem, a steady diet of great stories ranging from ancient mythological tales to Arthurian legends to classic sci-fi and fantasy and on up to Star Trek and Star Wars have improved his storytelling abilities considerably. To further refine and enhance his writing and storytelling skills, Dan lived a life of adventure first by getting a degree in geoscience, then by serving in the US Air Force, then by embarking on a career as a data analyst… hmmm… okay, let’s go back a bit to the part about how a lifetime of reading as many great stories (and many not so great stories) as he could have inspired Dan to write his own stories; stories that above all strive to be fun and entertaining reads. Dan currently resides with his family among the rugged, forested hills of his home state of Connecticut.
Ghosts of a Fallen Empire In the distant future an isolated human world has survived the Nomad Wars and the Fall of Imperium. Together with their non-human allies, the Dussakairay and the Bregus, they repopulated and rebuilt their devastated region of the galaxy to form a 40 system Commonwealth. For over five centuries the people of the Commonwealth have known only peace and prosperity, but an ancient enemy has been watching from the ruins of the old Imperium, slowly rebuilding their forces, and waiting for their opportunity to reduce the Commonwealth to ashes. The founders of the Commonwealth may have given up their Imperium, but they did not give up all of the Imperium’s secrets. Now the only hope for the people of the Commonwealth lies with the Ghosts of a Fallen Empire.
Is your library haunted? Are you sure? Many readers wander the shelves, returning over and over to the place their spirit calls home. Some of them are still in circulation, even after their bodies have checked out. Others are part of the deep archives from before the books moved in…
Join 11 authors as they explore haunts from the past, the future, and the dead.
Ghosts of Malta Malta. Alchemists, Saints and Heroes have all made their way to this place, defended its walls, and added to its ranks of ghosts and lore.
Besieged, battered, and bombed, this archipelago has seen every tide of war, turmoil, and more than a few bits of piracy. It’s also been the land of courage, resilience, and grace under fire.
Ten authors have set out to bring you tales of the ghosts of Malta past, present, and future. Open the pages and meet the ancient guardians, ghost cats and inter dimensional spies that will be your guide…
I hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving. I took a little bit of a break to enjoy my holiday and the several days of shopping that followed (I’m a manager in retail so it’s been a fun last few days). To continue on with my Halloween invasion of Christmas, I have a short little thing from author CM Saunders to share with you.
Halloween Drabble: THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN (100 Words)
The doorbell rings. It’s Halloween, which probably means the Trick or Treaters are here. Living alone means I’ll be up and down a lot tonight.
I open the door, and sure enough I’m confronted with three kids. We have a witch, a comedy Frankenstein, and a vampire in a cape. I think. I offer the group a handful of candy, which is snapped up greedily. As I’m closing the door, comedy Frankenstein says, “Where did your friend get that demon mask? It’s so cool.”
I’m confused. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Your friend behind you wearing the mask.”
(This story was first published in Every Day Fiction.)
Boo-graphy: Christian Saunders, a constant reader who writes fiction as C.M. Saunders, is a freelance journalist and editor from south Wales. His work has appeared in almost 100 magazines, ezines and anthologies worldwide including Fortean Times, the Literary Hatchet, ParABnormal, Fantastic Horror, Haunted MTL, Feverish Fiction and Crimson Streets, and he has held staff positions at several leading UK magazines ranging from Staff Writer to Associate Editor. His books have been both traditionally and independently published.
The fifth volume in my X series featuring ten (X, geddit?) slices of twisted horror and dark fiction plucked from the blood-soaked pages of ParABnormal magazine, Demonic Tome, Haunted MTL, Fantasia Diversity, and industry-defining anthologies including 100 Word Horrors, The Corona Book of Ghost Stories, DOA 3, and Trigger Warning: Body Horror.
Meet the local reporter on an assignment which takes him far beyond the realms of reality, join the fishing trip that goes sideways when a fish unlike any other is hooked, and find out the hidden cost of human trafficking in China. Along the way, meet the hiker who stumbles across something unexpected in the woods, the office worker who’s life is inexorably changed after a medical drug trial goes wrong, and many more.
Also features extensive notes, and original artwork by Stoker award-winning Greg Chapman.
Table of Contents: Demon Tree Revenge of the Toothfish Surzhai The Sharpest Tool Something Bad Down the Road Coming Around Where a Town Once Stood The Last Night Shift Subject #270374 Afterword
In the final part of CM Saunders’ five-part series, he talks about An American Werewolf in London. I hope you enjoyed this series as much as I did and please follow the link at the end so you can see some other movie reviews he’s done.
It’s been a long month. So far in our countdown of the top 5 Eighties Horror Flicks we’ve met vampires, ancient forest-dwelling spirits, vengeful ghosts, and all kinds of other nasties. A lot of blood has been spilled. It’s all been building up to this, the final instalment. Number one on the list, top of the pile, king of the hill. Some films you see during those impressionable childhood years make an indelible mark on you. Others scar you for life. For me, An American werewolf in London undoubtedly belongs in the latter category, and not just because I was obsessed with Jenny Agutter.
It should need no introduction, but for those unfamiliar with it, the film starts with a pair of American tourists David (Naughton) and Jack (Dunne) hiking across the Yorkshire Moors (this part was actually filmed on the Black Mountains in Wales). When night falls they take refuge in a charming little pub called the Slaughtered Lamb, where they find Rik Mayall having a game of darts and Brian Glover in a particularly prickly mood, but leave when things turn frosty with the words “Stay on the path!” ringing in their ears. Needless to say, they don’t heed the warning and and find themselves lost on the moors. As if that wasn’t bad enough, things take a huge downward turn when they are attacked and Jack is ripped to pieces by a huge wild animal, later revealed to be a werewolf. There’s no helping Jack, but a crowd from the pub arrive and kill the werewolf just in time to save David.
Some time later David wakes up in a hospital in London. We don’t know how he got there, or why he was taken there rather than somewhere closer as it’s about 200 miles from Yorkshire to the capital as the crow flies and you’d pass a few dozen hospitals on the way. But let’s not focus too much on pesky common sense and practicalities. It’s a werewolf film for fuck’s sake. Jack returns from the dead as either a ghost or a hallucination (we are never really told which) to warn his friend that next time there is a full moon, he too will turn into a werewolf. The banter between David and Dead Jack, fast, witty, and shot-through with humour, form some of my favourite parts of the film (example: “Have you ever talked to a corpse? It’s boring!”).
The anticipated change does indeed occur in a gut-wrenching yet iconic sequence which won an Academy Award for special effects (the man responsible, Rick Baker, went on to win six more from eleven nominations. A record.) and David goes on a bloody rampage across London’s West End. One of the defining scenes was set and filmed at Tottenham Court Road tube station, and anyone who has ever used that particular transport hub will surely agree that the only time you are likely to see it quite so empty is when there is a blood-crazed werewolf riding the escalator. Here’s the scene, in all its glory:
The next we see of David he’s waking up naked in the wolf enclosure of the local zoo, and as soon as he’s dressed again he sets about piecing together the events of the night before with the help of Alice (Agutter), a nurse who he somehow managed to pull whilst being laid up at the hospital. It has to be said that she takes all the “I’m a werewolf” stuff remarkably well, which was just one more reason to love the woman.
One of the most terrifying scenes ever committed to celluloid is the dream sequence where David witnesses his family being brutally slayed by a bunch of mutant Nazi demons brandishing machine guns in a home invasion. It’s as weird as it is shocking, and has been the cause of endless debate over the years. Was it included just for the shock factor? An extra element of controversy (as if it were needed)? Or is it a remnant of a sub-plot which was otherwise edited out?
It’s interesting to note that earlier on in proceedings, nurse Alice and her friend make what appears to be an off-hand Jewish remark dressed up as a dick joke, and the movie has been lauded in certain circles as a significant piece of Jewish cinema. A little digging reveals John Landis was born into a Jewish family, and with that kernel of knowledge, the sub-text swims into focus. David (the name of the first monarch of the Israelite tribes) is a walking allegory for Judaism itself. A displaced, wounded hero, a stranger in a strange land, struggling to come to terms with a tragic past. This article does a pretty good job of further exploring the Jewish connection, which I’d never even considered until I re-watched it recently and started wondering what the fuck those mutant Nazi demons with machine guns had to do with anything.
When it was released in 1981, An American Werewolf in London formed one third of a holy trinity of werewolf films, which all came out the same year, the others being Wolfen and The Howling (see number three on our list!). Director John Landis (who is more commonly associated with comedy having been involved with such seminal films as Animal House, The Blues Brothers, and Trading Places) claimed he was inspired to write the script after working on the film Kelly’s Heros in Yugoslavia. Whilst out driving, he stumbled across a group of gypsies performing a ritual on a corpse so it wouldn’t ‘rise again,’ which must have been quite the mindfuck.
At first he had trouble securing finances, with most would-be investors claiming the script was too frightening to be a comedy and too funny to be frightening, before PolyGram Pictures eventually put up the $10 million budget. Happily, their faith was repayed as the movie became a box office smash grossing over $62 million worldwide. It is now rightfully hailed as one of the greatest horror movies ever made.
In contrast, a 1997 sequel, An American Werewolf in Paris, which featured a completely different cast and crew, was a critical and commercial failure. As a curious postscript, in 2016 it was reported that John Landis’s son Max was writing and directing a remake. There’s been nothing but the sound of crickets ever since.
Trivia Corner:
Landis has expressed regret over cutting certain sequences from the final cut of the film in order to earn an R rating in the US. The sex scene between Alex and David was edited to be less explicit, and a scene showing the homeless men along the Thames being attacked was cut after a test audience reacted negatively to it. Yet another cut scene showed the undead Jack eating a piece of toast which falls out of a hole in his torn throat.
On the 13th of every month I put a fresh spin on a classic movie in my RetView series over at my blog. Go here to check out the archive:
Boo-graphy: Christian Saunders, a constant reader who writes fiction as C.M. Saunders, is a freelance journalist and editor from south Wales. His work has appeared in almost 100 magazines, ezines and anthologies worldwide including Fortean Times, the Literary Hatchet, ParABnormal, Fantastic Horror, Haunted MTL, Feverish Fiction and Crimson Streets, and he has held staff positions at several leading UK magazines ranging from Staff Writer to Associate Editor. His books have been both traditionally and independently published.
The fifth volume in my X series featuring ten (X, geddit?) slices of twisted horror and dark fiction plucked from the blood-soaked pages of ParABnormal magazine, Demonic Tome, Haunted MTL, Fantasia Diversity, and industry-defining anthologies including 100 Word Horrors, The Corona Book of Ghost Stories, DOA 3, and Trigger Warning: Body Horror.
Meet the local reporter on an assignment which takes him far beyond the realms of reality, join the fishing trip that goes sideways when a fish unlike any other is hooked, and find out the hidden cost of human trafficking in China. Along the way, meet the hiker who stumbles across something unexpected in the woods, the office worker who’s life is inexorably changed after a medical drug trial goes wrong, and many more.
Also features extensive notes, and original artwork by Stoker award-winning Greg Chapman.
Table of Contents: Demon Tree Revenge of the Toothfish Surzhai The Sharpest Tool Something Bad Down the Road Coming Around Where a Town Once Stood The Last Night Shift Subject #270374 Afterword
Meghan's House of Books 