An entire audience of people groans at the cheesy finale of ""The Wolfman,"" then angrily clears the auditorium before the credits even start rolling. Universal hatred drips from the walls as everyone from middle-aged married couples to teenagers who snuck in during the trailers consider demanding a refund.
Watching it all play out was marvelous; still, it didn't make the dull remake worth sitting through.
What happened to this horror classic? ""Wolfman"" blandly mixes botched suspense, incomplete philosophy and shlocky gore in a mushy porridge of boredom and period drama.
In this version of the tale, our hero Lawrence (Benicio Del Toro) returns from his worldwide tour with his theatrical company to his family's country estate to uncover what happened to his missing brother. His investigation eventually leads him to a gypsy camp (naturally) where he is attacked by the beast that killed his brother, leaving him wounded but alive. The attack curses him, leaving him to transform into ""the beast"" under a full moon. He then somehow has to deal with the curse or risk hurting those he loves, including his brother's fiancé Gwen (Emily Blunt).
The revised origin of this curse is actually sort of interesting—something to do with a feral child in the mountains. But that's about as much mythology as the audience gets, which is pretty disappointing. Silver bullets are referenced, but not explained. You couldn't remake ""Dracula"" or ""Night of the Living Dead"" without explaining some of the origins of those monsters; why did the writers think they could skip it here?
That's not all the film seems to skip over. A man who has lost everything in his life has plenty of anguish to convey, but the film gives us little opportunity to observe Lawrence's reaction to his new curse and its effects.
All we get is a formulaic progression from the moment we see a full moon: an unnecessarily elaborate transformation sequence, a blurry action scene and excessively bright, awakening outdoor shot containing bloody, torn clothes. Repeat. Mix in various period details and props like steam-powered buses and horse-and-buggies for good measure.
Speaking of period detail, that's really the one production value that seems to be overemphasized. Interiors are grand and Victorian in style, and hats, petticoats, monocles and muttonchops adorn every character on screen. Hugo Weaving delivers the only interesting performance as a detective of Scotland Yard hunting Wolfie, but his wicked mustache-into-muttonchops facial hair largely overpowers his scenes.
As far as the action goes, it seems pretty off-key from the rest of the film. Wolfie leaves a trail of torn throats and the occasional severed arm or clawful of guts flying through the air as he whizzes by. Most of these scenes forced some giggles from the impatient audience, which is probably not quite what the director was going for. Apparently the editor didn't get the memo that this was supposed to be a serious, philosophical thriller, not a poorly cut B-movie.
Absent of substantial plot and characters, and unoriginal in its few action sequences, there's not a whole lot to sink your teeth into. And by the time it all ends with a silver bullet, we're more concerned with getting out of the parking lot than we are about the morality of killing a monster.
