'The Wolfman': Unrated, or Just Overrated?
Unlike the theatrical version, which got to the action almost immediately, the new unrated version takes its own sweet time before unleashing the terror - and that's not necessarily a good thing.
It's an interesting question for a critic to contemplate. Does the creation of a "director's" cut of a film - a version heretofore unseen by any member of the moviegoing public - improve one's original opinion, or simply cement it further. Said another way, does adding back in MPAA-excised gore, a couple of intriguing subplots, and a few moments of character complexity, turn a dud into something dynamite? This is a difficulty fans of the Joe Johnston reinvention of The Wolfman will have to answer. From the outside, the nearly 12 minutes of added footage does change things. We get more of our hero's reluctance to return to his childhood home, a chance encounter cameo on a train, and a growing unease at being intertwined with his family, and his father, once again. Unlike the theatrical version, which got to the action almost immediately, the new unrated version takes its own sweet time before unleashing the terror - and that's not necessarily a good thing.
Initially, it's all there: the gloomy Victorian England setting; the decrepit Gothic family manor; the faux religion and ancient gypsy curse; the mark of the beast; the town filled with superstitious residents; and the bloody, vivisected corpses strewn along the countryside. Even the make-up by veteran F/X wizard Rick Baker is sufficiently post-modern while instantly recalling the look and feel of the classic Universal beast. Everything is in place for a throat-ripping, blood-spewing good time, and for a while at least, the 2010 version of The Wolfman delivers. But there is also a reverence here (one accented by the new home video release), a devotion to the past and all things retro that undermines the energy and the effectiveness of what director Joe Johnston and star Benicio del Toro want to bring to this terror update. Instead of fear, we get fanciness - and now, much more of same.
American actor Lawrence Talbot (del Toro) returns to his boyhood estate in the UK when his brother Ben goes missing. There he encounters his sibling's distraught fiancée Gwen Conliff (Emily Blunt), his aging and eccentric dad (Anthony Hopkins), and a townspeople terrified over rumors of a "monster". Blaming a local band of gypsies for their plight, Talbot heads out into the night to get some answers. He is summarily attacked by a rampaging beast. While on the mend, Inspector Abberline (Hugo Weaving) from Scotland Yard arrives to investigate. All leads point to something unnatural and evil. Lawrence soon discovers he has been bitten by a werewolf, and when the moon is full, he is destined to turn into a marauding, vicious fiend as well.
There's a saying in cinema that goes like this - if you're going to remake a timeless bit of movie macabre, you better have something new to bring to the genre redux. Better CG transformations and a glossy period piece look are just not enough. Unfortunately, that is mostly what this new take on the legend of lycanthropy has to offer: good performances; great production design; skimpy scares and storyline. No one is actually thinking that any mainstream effort is going to capture the true horror of a half-man, half-creature, stalking the UK countryside and since The Wolfman Is looking backward, not fresh and forward like The Howling or Dog Soldiers, it never really intends to. But today's audiences need that special kind of spark, that reason to become reinvested. A talented cast is just not enough - especially when you decide to add nearly a quarter of an hour of additional subtext.
Granted, del Toro and the rest rise to the occasion, dropping their usual performance tics to take on iconic, often ambiguous characters. Our star does indeed shine when asked to bring a sense of depressed menace to his overwhelmed lead. Hopkins too takes his often scalded lines and delivers them in a manner that makes up for their inherent dreariness. Blunt, on the other hand, does the most with her deemed damsel in distress turn. About the only name not living up to his hype is Hugo Weaving. He definitely looks the part, and plays it to the hilt, but he is still stuck in mid-Matrix mode, letting his voice drop down in a mired "Mr. Anderson" inflection. His Abberline should be more heroic. Instead, he's hemmed in by the lack of anything significant to do.
Indeed, most of The Wolfman suffers from such narrative ennui. It's more than happy to trod step-by-step through a series of set-ups and set-pieces, unable to find a dimension below the obvious. Lawrence is troubled by visions of his late mother's death. We just know that will come back later to prove some point. Similarly, an adolescent stay in an asylum gets an equal contemporary storyline link. With Blunt flitting in and out of things, meant to symbolize the innocence and affection that almost all the male characters lack, we get a mythos both superficial and stilted, incapable of real emotion and yet frantic to turn into a Shakespearean level of tragedy. Oddly enough, the extended cut not only maintains this level of lazy explanation, it amplifies it even further.
Instead of using the contrast between light and dark as some manner of symbol, Johnston simply settles back and plays journeyman here. His direction is precise, pointed, and very pretty. There are shots that seem lifted directly from an old wood carving of supernatural chaos. But there are also moments that fail to connect, like the "rock skipping as burgeoning romance" scene between del Toro and Blunt. Each offers as much meaning as they can to the thin dialogue, but without a little support from Johnston, it's much ado about nothing. Even the action sequences are handled in obvious ways. Every time someone is shown standing, face on, toward the camera, you can count the beats until a 'sudden shock/beast growl' attack fills the frame - or even worse, a rapidly edited incident of something scurrying among the trees, only to see an arm fly into the air or a fan of arterial spray strike an edifice.
Oddly enough, we learn there was even more material excised from the storyline. The Blu-ray's bonus features include a series of deleted scenes, one of which features the monster, a masquerade ball, and a silly attempt at "humanizing" the fiend. Elsewhere, alternative endings give each of the remaining cast members a chance to prepare for "Part II" (you'll need to watch them to understand the sequel reference). There are make-up featurettes and looks behind the scenes and a wonderful 1080p transfer that really shows off Johnston's genuine desire to capture England in all its gloom and doom delight. About the only thing truly missing is an audio commentary. It would be nice to hear the director defend his hiring (the production history argues for something originally more powerful and ominous since first helmer Mark Romanek left over budget and creative differences) and discuss why, rating concern aside, this version had to wait for home video before being released (for those who are curious, the theatrical cut is also included, as is a BD Live link to the original 1941 classic) .
In many ways, it's refreshing - in a wholly antique way - to see a film that takes the notions of monsters and murder so seriously. Contemporary terror treats fear as the punchline, a porn-like pop shot to an often irreverent or irrational foundation. Here, Talbot's conflict between man and inner beast recalls the early days of psychology and the battle between sanity and derangement. It also infers the growing industrial revolution, the rise of modern thinking, and the dismissal of folklore and fantasy. Too bad then that The Wolfman doesn't embrace more of its potential meaning. This is eerie eye candy of the most schizophrenic, sometimes satisfying kind. Even in a form purporting to accurately represent the intent of the filmmakers, it's all bark and no bite.