Mark says:

Annoying remake of a horror classic, The Wolfman is let look at only for the great care taken to the image, the decorations and the costumes. For the remainder, better is worth not to be too demanding and to take just like enormous parody which is unfortunately not assumed.

Nothing goes any more in this England of the Victorian era. During full moon, people are made shred by a horrible animal. Learning the death of his brother, Lawrence (Benicio Del Toro) does not have the choice to return visit to his father (Anthony Hopkins). While inquiring into this atrocious murder, he is able to cut through a path near the hairy evil, being unfortunately bitten in the passage. Henceforth, his body will change, and he will not be able any more to control his fatal impulses.

That was to arrive one day. With the resurrection of the vampires, the malicious ones and even of Sherlock Holmes, it was only one matter of time before major Universal does a vacuum-clean on The Wolf Man, this traditional 1941 motion pictured directed with balance and effectiveness by George Waggner. The company entrusted the mandate to Joe Johnston, a scenario writer who, with the passing of years, is confined of less and less interesting accounts. After his very diverting Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, The Rocketeer, Jumanji and October Sky, he singularly missed gas in the last decade, offering the not very memorable Jurassic Park III and Hidalgo. The history is repeated, unfortunately.

The stakes were however with go. At least, in the original screenplay. It is question of the dichotomy between the man and the animal, of the painful relations between a father and his son, search for freedom and humanity as well as power of the love in the cure of all the evils. Of these strong topics, practically nothing was kept. That a fine fog which gives appearance that all is there, whereas nothing is there really. An irony which is reflected on very pretty photography and the skilful artistic director. Visually, it is splendid. Except that while approaching, the scars make their appearance quickly, materializing in particular within special effects which largely leave something to be desired.

Conscious of this chemistry which is not with go and of these narrative weaknesses, that which will revive soon imperturbable Captain America tried to dissimulate the whole through a licked Gothic invoice and an invading sound screen of Danny Elfman. A unpleasant music but used without know-how, with an only aim which the spectator jumps on his bench. This aspect, addition with the bombastic exchanges and little resonance of the actors, brings a shifted side, almost ironic and parodic. That would not be so problematic if the feature-length film were not caught so much with the serious one.

As exciting as a puzzle competition, briskly stimulating the eyes and the ears by deadening the remainder of the body, The Wolfman almost makes you regret the unequal Wolf by Mike Nichols. Despite everything her mimicry, Jack Nicholson had much more the corrosive one, and the symphonies of Morricone had functions precise and necessary. All opposite of this test without much scale which destroys a promising concept which still has beautiful days in front of him.