Universal's classic horror canon has suffered some pretty rough treatment over the years, from Coppola's over-blown version of Bram Stoker's Dracula (Keanu Reeves' complete bewilderment the high low-point), to the misjudged nadir that was Stephen Sommers' Van Helsing, and now we have a 21st century attempt at redemption with the hirsute moors murderer himself, The Wolfman. Based on Curt Siodmak's original screenplay from the 1941 version starring Lon Chaney Jr. the film-makers made the decision to retain a faithfullness to the original and not follow a total revisionist route, but this almost stubborn refusal to introduce a more sophisticated and subtle take on the story might leave some scratching their heads as to why they bothered in the first place. Then again, a story about a Shakespearean actor who turns into a rampaging werewolf possibly doesn't suggest the dramatic depths. It's 19th century England and Lawrence Talbot (Benicio Del Toro), stage actor and prodigal son of Anthony Hopkins' wealthy landowner in the hamlet of Blackmoor, has returned from America. Soon after, he's approached by Gwen Conliffe (Emily Blunt) to help in the search for his missing brother, and her fiancee, who made the unfortunate decision to go wandering in the woods around the family home. Talbot returns with her but his brother's mutilated body has already been found, and now he must face his own ghosts, his withdrawn and possibly unbalanced father, his attraction to Gwen, and something monstrous that doesn't so much lurk as rip limb from limb anything on two legs. Needless to say, after an unfortunate visit to a gypsy camp Talbot is bitten and left subject to the all-pervading moon.
And I mean all-pervading. There's no creepiness here, no forgetting about the influence of our nearest celestial neighbour, just good old-fashioned visual largesse. If they'd added some scary organ music and some big pointy arrows I couldn't have gotten the message clearer. It's the moon, and someone's going to do some very bad things. This lack of reserve is perhaps not surprising when the director is Joe Johnston, the helmer of the none-too-subtle Jumanji, and upcoming Captain America, and out of all the production problems The Wolfman has gone through its his position as chief shot-caller that has puzzled me the most. After the apparently fiery departure of original director Mark Romanek (One Hour Photo) I can imagine the producers wanting to hand the project to a less combustible pair of hands but at what point did the marriage of grown-up horror penned by Se7ens Andrew Kevin Walker and fairground ride Johnston make sense? Im not suggesting that Johnston is totally lacking in directorial skill, and he is possibly a genuine fan of the films origins, but he seems to only understand the aesthetics and not the soul of suspense/horror.
Like the sledgehammer treatment of moonlight, there is a determination to create scares out of shock and gore (not that they dont work perfectly well at certain points), but theres no actual fear. Theres no dread. In fact Johnstons desire to make more adult fare shows itself mainly in the mayhem of disembowelling and limb-lopping. Trying to make sense of it all is the quartet of Del Toro, Hopkins, Blunt, and in a wry appearance, Hugo Weaving as Inspector Aberline (yes, that chap from all that Jack the Ripper nonsense). Del Toro, a man who has something of the beast about him anyway, is decidedly miscast as the tortured Talbot and seems almost lost amidst the old-world setting. Stories have emerged about his hatred of the makeup and disinterested demeanour but its only when hes covered in Rick Bakers handiwork that he actually comes alive. It could be argued that appearing lost suits the characters experience but theres a difference between that and just looking clueless.
Hopkins as Talbot Snr. handles disengagement with more success, both emotional and psychological, but whether thats through the understanding of character or the detached realisation that hes getting paid for all this malarkey is up for debate. Hes never less than watchable though, often amusingly so, even when jumping feet first into the fun and games. Emily Blunt has an understandably limited scope as the damsel in distress and love object/saviour of Talbot and would have benefitted from perhaps a little bit of revisionism but even within the storys confines shes at least engaging. Its not hard to see why Talbot falls for his brothers girl, but its a definite mystery why she falls the other way round. In fact youll probably wonder why she doesnt rest her hand on the arm of Weavings Aberline, having the most fun and creating the only indelible character in the piece; its not easy to get a laugh just by ordering a pint of bitter. Perhaps thats why hes involved in the sequel-baiting denouement.
Last, but with a creature feature like this, definitely not the least, theres the special effects. Its a werewolf movie so beyond the monstrous butchery the daddy of it all is the transformation and the result, and here, once again, a preponderance of rubbery CGI serves to remove the watcher from the monster. Lazy roof-top scrambling and jumping dont help proceedings either. Its a particular shame as they had on board the master himself, Rick Baker, reducing his involvement to the static end; and seeing the care, attention and skill in Talbots lycanthropic state you can only wonder again at the choices made. Baker himself has been increasingly forthcoming on the production, in a recent article by Joe Nazarro in Makeup-Artist magazine Baker says he doesnt understand the logic of excluding the guy who designed the makeup and knew the look of the Wolfman more than anyone else, and a guy who is known for changing the way that transformations were done. But as he also says, logic has no place in the film business. The Wolfman is not the disaster I was expecting, the production design in particular is outstanding, but nor is it the classic update of a classic I wanted. It is inevitably somewhere in the middle-ground, and for a story supposedly about imbalance, peril, and the terror of change that kind of safety shouldnt have really been an option.
Film writer, drinker of Guinness. Part-time astronaut. Man who thinks there are only two real Indiana Jones movies, writing loglines should be an Olympic event, and that science fiction, comic book movies, 007, and Hal Hartley's Simple Men are the cures for most evils. Currently scripting.
