The Wolfman

“God help us all” says Anthony Hopkins’ Sir John Talbot early on in this horror tale. Couldn’t have put it better myself. What on earth is the point of remaking a horror classic from the 1940s without really updating it in any way? Even the special effects are rubbish.

After going through two directors (Mark Romanek left shortly before filming was due to commence and was replaced by Joe Johnston) and hanging around for a while when its release was delayed from November to February, it’s a miracle The Wolfman was ever finished – although miracle isn’t quite the right word. Not bad enough to be funny, nor incompetent enough to entertain, it’s merely a reheating of a 1940s horror classic without atmosphere or really much point. The only moment of relief is when a truly dreadful Anthony Sher – once a great stage actor – is impaled on an iron fence, thus ending his irritating German accent.

A positive is Benicio del Toro as Lawrence Talbot, who at least he takes his role seriously. Lawrence is an intense stage actor who goes back to his old country estate to investigate the brutal murder of his brother. There he grapples with his manipulative father John (a terribly hammy Hopkins), and has nightmares about when he discovered his mother’s body in the gardens, with a switchblade in her blood-soaked hand. His only ally seems to be his brother’s fiancée Gwen (Blunt), but when he chases a beast into the woods and is badly mauled his body seems to change. But why is his father so indifferent?

Every single werewolf movie cliché is present here, but it all seems so tired and stale – the old gothic house, the creaking stairs, the eyes changing colour, the fingernails growing, the old country pub where everybody goes quiet when a stranger walks in, the rooftop chase across London, the silver bullets. It’s utterly without charm, scares or any real interest. When Hugo Weaving’s inspector Abberline turns up accusing Lawrence of being Jack the Ripper, any remaining hope is lost. It’s cheesy, silly, daft but nowhere near self-knowing enough to be witty.

Director Joe Johnston is more of a special effects man than a director, and it would seem storytelling is not really his thing. Strangely, while he piles on the gore in the closing act, he shies away from showing any sexual content. That is about the only thing that might have livened up this strangely lacklustre sub-Hammer werewolf effort.

Overall Verdict: Pointless reworking of a real horror classic. More hammy than Hammer.

Reviewer: Mike Martin