The Wolfmangets off to a smashing start, and as it lopes toward its climax, it’s possibleto see the film that someone must have originally intended to make. The revivalof the classic 1941 horror movie endured two directors, a script rewrite whilein progress, weeks of re-shoots and interference on all sides from some of thedumbest minds working in Hollywoodtoday. As a result, it gushes with needless blood and pointless gore as theplot goes berserk. The Wolfman asOedipal melodrama?
Fortunately, thefilm is anchored by strong acting all around. Already looking a little wolfishunder dark, thick, matted hair, Benicio Del Toro plays Lawrence Talbottheprodigal son of remote Talbot Manor bitten by a werewolf when the moon waxesfullwith an inner trauma worthy of Montgomery Clift. Anthony Hopkins endows Lawrence’s father, SirJohn, with unwarranted Shakespearean grandeur. Emily Blunt gives a MasterpieceTheatre-worthy rendition of Gwen, the woman who hopes to redeem the beast inthe man through love. Even the supporting cast is top drawer. Art Malik,virtually invisible under a turban and profuse beard, plays Sir John’s faithfulIndian retainer, Singh, and Hugo Weaving is altogether recognizable asInspector Abberline, the same historical character played by Johnny Depp in From Hell.
Transposing the story to the 19th century was afine idea, giving the art directors the opportunity to create settingsreminiscent of those old British Hammer Studio horror flicks. Among the strongcinematic moments is a montage of Lawrence’s madvisions while enduring the scientifically sanctioned sadism of a London insane asylum. Butthe overall impression left by the harebrained story is that the producers werehowling at a full moon while making key decisions. Pass the wolfsbane, please.