Movies / Movie Reviews

The Wolfman

By Andy Frisk
February 14, 2010 - 00:30

The Wolfman is the story of a father in touch with his animal side who has given into his maniacal tendencies, a murdered son, a brother who seeks his sibling’s murderer, a beautiful widow who falls for her murdered husband’s brother, a semi-incestuous love triangle, and an intrepid yet tortured investigator determined to unravel and end the madness. It's set on the gothic, mist enshrouded high English moors. It’s chocked full of opportunities to explore such literary themes as the nature of madness, the animalistic tendencies of man, regret, revenge, redemption, and an escape from imposed identity metaphorically and analogously within the framework of the story. It’s acted out by the brilliant and engaging Benicio Del Toro, Anthony Hopkins, Hugo Weaving, and Emily Blount. Yet, The Wolfman is a colossal and woefully inept film that squanders all of the above potential.

Maybe it is too much to expect a remake and update of the classic 1941 film, which starred Lon Chaney Jr. in the title role, to live up to such lofty expectations, but is it too much to expect at least a little of the potential for greatness that the solid theme, actors, and setting potentially could have delivered? I don’t think so. A modern and intelligent audience has a right to demand such greatness from a story and its tellers. The problem is that this new version of The Wolfman was made to appeal to the ever decreasing attention spans, thoughtfulness, and intelligence of it targeted (teenaged) wide-appeal audience. Did The Wolfman need to be a heavy thought piece produced for an audience “fit, though few?” No, but some intelligence of execution is, again, not too much to ask.

The story opens with Lawrence Talbot (Del Toro), our soon to be wolfman, returning to his father’s (Hopkins) estate in Blackmoor to attend the funeral of his brother, who was horrifically murdered out upon the surrounding moors on the night of the last full moon. Talbot promises his brother's grieving widow (Blunt) that he'll unravel the mystery of his death, and the plot is off and running. As he delves deeper into the mystery of the ravening beast that could have done such horrific damage to his brother, he is lead to the local encampment of gypsies, who are rife with myth and mystery. Upon making a visit to their camp, on the night of the next full moon (and against his father’s warning), the camp is attacked by a wolfman, Talbot is bitten, and his descent into madness and graphic violence begins. As Talbot unravels the mystery behind the beast and grapples with his own oncoming animalism he discovers that the madness has been kept “all in the family,” if you will, and that only he can end this madness.

Not a bad story, as I said, but as it progresses it gets more and more hokey. Del Toro displays the chops of a high school stage player with his attempts at puppy dog eyed looks at Blunt and inanely delivered lines. “You killed my mother!” a line delivered while Talbot suffers at the hands of the already seen before (and better filmed and acted) hands of 19th century insane asylum quacks, is so obvious, poorly delivered, and poorly written that it’s actually hilarious instead of heartrending. It’s as if the line was written for the bubble gum crowd who are too busy texting during the movie to actually be watching the movie so that they can keep up. You can’t judge a whole movie on one line, but there are plenty of other silly ones, the rest “being too long to tell.” Hopkins, the right choice to play the diabolical father, hams it up for the camera while delivering his trademark evil intensity that just oozes from his tone of voice, look in the eye, and snarl. The problem is that we’ve seen this before too, the character was called Hannibal Lecter, and he had way better lines in those movies, including the pretty deplorable Hannibal. When Weaving shows up, as Abberline, the detective from Scotland Yard who headed up the Jack The Ripper investigation, and who’s looking for a bit of redemption, you almost expect to hear, shortly after the first few words are out of his mouth, “Mr. Anderson, we’ve missed you.” His performance is so much like his masterful turn in The Matrix Trilogy as Agent Smith that you can’t help but feel that he had to put it on autopilot to get through his performance in this film and Agent Smith was the easiest autopilot to engage. Emily Blunt is fine as the grieving widow turned love of Lawrence’s whose tasked with freeing him from the curse, but she really doesn’t have much else to do but frown, drop a tear here and there, and pull the trigger.

This huge squandering of talent is a direct result of the poor script. It just feels like it was all too easily spelled out and not given the space that is so necessary in between lines to let the plot develop and, more importantly, let the audience fill in some of the blanks. Hopkins doesn’t need to yell to Del Toro that “You’re my legacy” or some such nonsense, it’s obvious that he is, and that he wants nothing to do with it. Why spell it out? Great actors who can deliver great lines are able to capture and communicate the meaning between the lines, and even between the words, and Del Toro and Hopkins are definitely capable doing this, so give them the space to act, not divulge.

Alas though, staccato and blatantly obvious lines must be necessary to speed the plot along so we can bridge the gap to what the film really wants to do, bathe in blood and gore. Beheadings, blood, disembowelments, and dismemberments are the norm and also apparently required. Strew about entrails, arms and legs, and heads litter the country side after an attack by a wolfman. Plenty of gunplay, leaping, lunging, howling, and grunting also are on display. There’s no subtlety. The scene where Del Toro transforms into the wolfman before the assembled doctors of the insane asylum, which again is supposed to be horrifying and profound, is in reality a laugh fest full of the obvious symbolism. Self important doctors are bad, not really insane but victimized patients are good, and will get you in the end (actually eat you in the end...)

wolfmen are such messy eaters..."need a bib, sir?"

Again, is it asking too much for a little depth from our on screen monsters? These stories are supposed to be metaphors for real life issues and quandaries. We all struggle with our inner beasts and we all wonder if they are of our own creation, or an inheritance, or a little of both, and this theme can really produce some profound stories that comment on the plights and heights of the human experience. The Wolfman does not. It tries, though not too hard, and ends up squandering a bevy of massive talent. It’s a slasher movie at best, that at times resembles old school Marilyn Manson videos, or worse yet the bottom of the werewolf hierarchy of films (The Howling and it’s pointless sequels). It’s funny when it’s not supposed to be, and downright awful when it’s supposed to be profound. If you like werewolves, go rent An American Werewolf in London again, sit back and enjoy. Rent The Wolfman when it comes out on DVD, when you’ve nothing better to do.

Rating: 3 /10

Last Updated: August 31, 2023 - 08:12