Wolf Man Review: A Fresh Take on Lycanthropy

Wolf Man Review: A Fresh Take on Lycanthropy

Blake and his family are attacked by an unseen animal and, in a desperate escape, barricade themselves inside a farmhouse as the creature prowls the perimeter. As the night stretches on, however, Blake begins to behave strangely, transforming into something unrecognizable that soon jeopardizes his wife and daughter.

Release date: 17 January 2025

Director: Leigh Whannell

Adapted from: The Wolf Man

Producers: Ryan Gosling, Jason Blum

Distributed by: Universal Pictures

Introduction

Reinventing classic tales can often lead to high expectations and wary comparisons. Leigh Whannell’s “Wolf Man” aims to carve out its own identity, distancing itself from the iconic 1941 original while still echoing familiar themes of fear and transformation. This contemporary lycanthropic adventure offers a gripping narrative, exploring the complexities of fatherhood, legacy, and hidden darkness. As we journey alongside Blake and his family back to their haunting past in the Oregon woods, Whannell crafts a tale that intertwines visceral tension with deeper allegorical layers, challenging our perceptions of human nature and monstrosity.

Wolf Man, A Horror Movie Review by Hope Madden

A lot of people will go into Wolf Man with comparisons to the 1941 Lon Chaney Jr. original on the ready. For Leigh Whannell fans, threads common to his 2020 gem The Invisible Man are easier to connect.

That’s partly because his new lycanthropic adventure is not a reboot, remake, or sequel to the original film, and partly because the underlying metaphor bears a little resemblance to his last movie.

Thirty years ago, young Blake (Zac Chandler) and his frighteningly protective, militia-esque father (Sam Jaeger) go hunting in the deep, isolated, picturesque Oregon woods near their property. They find something, and it isn’t a bear.

Flash forward, and adult Blake (Christopher Abbott)—a doting father to young Ginger (Matilda Firth, named no doubt as nod to Ginger Snaps in an applause worthy move)—gets the paperwork. His dad is finally, officially considered dead. He went into the woods some years back and just never came out. Now Blake, Ginger, and Blake’s wife Charlotte (Julia Garner) need to head back to Oregon to take care of the old farm.

Abbott and Garner hold the film’s insistent metaphor in check even when Whannell’s dialog (co-written with Corbett Tuck) veers a little too close to obvious. Blake is a good man, a kind man, a loving father—could he have enough of his old man in him to mean violence to the women in his life?

Whannell’s instinct for horror set pieces and claustrophobic action wring that metaphor for all the tension it’s worth in the second act, creating an atmosphere thick with dread and anticipation that keeps the audience on the edge of their seats. The deft pacing allows for moments of profound character exploration, making the viewer genuinely invested in the harrowing journey unfolding onscreen.

But by Act 3, when the tortured love of a monster feels more akin to Cronenberg’s The Fly—a comparison that arises not just from Whannell’s sharp writing but also from Arjen Tuiten’s masterful monster design, which embodies both grotesqueness and fragility—the allegory begins to crumble under its own weight as the emotional resonance struggles to maintain its power amid a swirling chaos of horror tropes and thematic excess.

Although many viewers may have already checked out due to that creature design.

There is a tidy little gift of thrills here, very traditionally constructed with limited complications, allowing for a bit more depth of character. But it all feels slight, and outside of some nifty bits of action, overwrought.