rating: 
company: Universal Pictures
year: 2010
runtime: 102′
country: United States
director: Joe Johnston
cast: Benecio Del Toro, Anthony Hopkins,
Hugo Weaving, Emily Blunt,
Art Malick, Roger Frost,
Geraldine Chaplin, Jordan Michael Coulson
writers: Andrew Kevin Walker
and David Self (based on the original
screenplay by Curt Siodmak)
cinematography: Shelly Johnston
music: Danny Elfman
special effects: Rick Baker
and a few hundred others
out in theaters in wide release
Plot: A man is bitten by a werewolf and becomes a wolf man.
Warning: Spoilers lie ahead. Proceed at your own peril!
“It had to be this way,” the dying Lawrence Talbot whispers in the closing reel of Universal’s The Wolfman, the needless big-budget reboot of the ’40s franchise, and perhaps he’s right. Slick and soulless and propelled by little more than a mountain of time-lapsed lunar photography, Joe Johnston’s Valentine to the Lon Chaney Jr. classic ranks as nothing short of $150 million in wasted opportunity.
The Wolfman roots itself firmly in the territory of classic Gothic horror tales, with the dusty ghost of a once-great English manor serving as the primary location. Visiting the manor after the untimely mutilation of his younger brother, Shakespearean actor Lawrence (Benecio Del Toro) ignores his sinister father’s (Anthony Hopkins) simple warning about the full moon and promptly finds himself in the middle of the resident lycanthrope’s gypsy buffet, receiving a nasty shoulder wound while chasing a blur of fur and muscle through a slurry of dismembered limbs and entrails. Lawrence survives of course, and when the next full moon rises he enacts his own bloody massacre. No sooner has he awakened than the police mob of Inspector Abberline (Hugo Weaving) arrives, convinced of his lunacy but not of his monstrous alter-ego.
A brief stint in a London asylum goes as well as one might expect, and is punctuated with a visit by Lawrence’s father, there to remove a particularly nasty skeleton from the family’s closet. In no time at all our cursed anti-hero is howling through the streets of London and lunging across its rooftops, dodging bullets and slicing through all who stand in his way. The conclusion sees Lawrence’s return to the family home, to confront his father (it seems claws and fangs run in the family) and meet his inevitable end.
The biggest thrill of The Wolfman was seeing Curt Siodmak receive a solo credit for his original screenplay, small consolation indeed for a film more troubled than its cursed protagonist. The great cast does their best to breathe life into the foul writing of Andrew Kevin Walker (Sleepy Hollow) and David Self (1999′s The Haunting, Road to Perdition), so lacking in dramatics that it precludes them from being characters at all. Del Toro’s Wolfman is sadly forgettable, a failing of a script that shuffles him about like a pawn – a massacre here, a father-son brawl there, and a bit of cliche romantic monster pathos to tidy up the ending. It’s not nearly enough to cover up the fact that this Wolfman’s heart was ripped out well before the cameras began to roll.
Hopkins does what Hopkins does best, lending weight and credibility to his role as the woefully underwritten villain of the piece, whose malediction is obvious from the moment he first appears on screen. Hugo Weaving plays the part of the obligatory law man, one of the more memorable caricatures of the picture and the vessel through which the inevitable franchise’s sequel baiting is delivered. Emily Blunt is pretty but perfunctory, and the audience knows even without the silly gypsy gibberish (delivered by a fine Geraldine Chaplin) that it will be her hand and not Abberline’s that delivers the Wolfman’s death blow.
It’s obvious from the ugly CGI title card that the over-produced effects are to be the star of the show, with Rick Baker’s capable (and faithful) Wolfman make-up designs taking center stage. While the frequent violent outbursts make for a bit of much-needed fun in this otherwise dull seat-filler, highlighted with torn limbs, gnawed fingers, and a decapitation or two, none of it is anything we haven’t seen before. More importantly, it’s nothing we’re going to remember. Some extensive CGI is as obvious as ever, particularly in Lawrence’s night time prowl through the London skyline. The animated stand-in for Del Toro’s flesh-and-blood creature suffers from the same lack of weight and presence that dooms so many of its ilk. The transformations, heavily inspired by Baker’s earlier work on the vastly superior An American Werewolf in London, are quite good at least, though they have little impact given the muck that surrounds them.
The less said about Joe Johnston’s (Jumanji, Hidalgo, Jurassic Park III) pedestrian direction the better. Suffice it to say that it wastes Rick Heinrichs’ reasonable Gothic production design almost entirely. Pacing is a problem throughout, The Wolfman‘s sparse narrative not so much flowing as stuttering from point to point. Perhaps the worst thing about this thoroughly mediocre outing is the lack of thrills or suspense – the sporadic splashing of blood and gore does not a scary film make. Cinematography by Shelly Johnson (The House Bunny, Jurassic Park III) is as uninspired as the rest and composer Danny Elfman seems at a loss entirely, crafting a meandering score that’s fitting for the production in its lack of excitement.
The best thing about this unnecessary retread is its trailer, which covers all the same narrative ground in considerably less time and at no expense to the viewer. Go to Youtube, check it out, and ponder what could have been – you’ll be happier and your wallet slightly fatter for the trouble. Skip it.
