Leigh Whannell has been a steadfast filmmaker throughout the 21st century, exploding onto the scene with his creative partner, James Wan, with 2004’s Saw and its immediate sequels. The two also established the Insidious franchise, the third entry of which served as Whannell’s feature directing debut. Since then, he’s gone to create cult favorite action flick Upgrade and a brilliant 2020 reimagining of The Invisible Man.
With Wolf Man, he takes on yet another classic Universal monster - the werewolf. Yet instead of leaning heavily into overt creature-feature thrills, he crafts a story rooted in relative realism, emotional complexity, and a sense of impending dread. Though Wolf Man has moments of brilliance, and more than enough blood for those looking for a thrill, its uneven pacing and occasionally muddled tone ultimately leave it short of its full potential.
The film centers around Blake (Christopher Abbott), a family man who relocates from San Francisco to his estranged father’s childhood home in rural Oregon with his wife, Charlotte (Julia Garner), and daughter, Ginger (Matilda Firth). Blake’s return to the farm is prompted by the mysterious death of his father, whose disappearance, left unresolved, adds a layer of unease to the already isolated setting. Things take a dark turn when, during a full moon, Blake and his family are viciously attacked by a strange creature in the night. As they attempt to survive, Blake winds up with a particularly nasty-looking scratch from the animal, and is soon confronted with the monstrous consequences of his injury.
What makes Whannell’s Wolf Man stand apart is its grounded approach to the genre. The infection that slowly overtakes Blake is not just a supernatural curse; it's portrayed almost as an animal-borne illness, akin to rabies, that warps both the body and mind. This choice roots the horror in a sense of realism and desperation, heightening the stakes and making Blake's struggle feel all the more urgent. The film subtly explores cycles of trauma and anger, specifically through Blake’s strained relationship with his late father. Their shared history of abuse, though never fully fleshed out, is suggested through Blake’s interactions with his daughter and his attempts to be a better father than the one he had. It’s a solid emotional foundation for a film that could have easily relied solely on scares and gore.
The film also excels in its use of Oregon’s stunning mountain ranges and valleys as a backdrop. Whannell and cinematographer Stefan Duscio wisely take advantage of the natural beauty to heighten the sense of isolation and confinement, with vast, empty spaces contrasting sharply against the growing danger inside the claustrophobic farmhouse. The sound design complements this beautifully, with the constant creaks and groans of the trees, the wind, and the rustling of branches becoming almost as menacing as the creature lurking just outside.
The film’s pacing, however, is a double-edged sword. Whannell expertly builds tension early on, establishing a palpable sense of dread as Blake transforms into something unrecognizable. The initial attack and the family’s frantic scramble to barricade themselves inside the house is a thrilling moment, and Abbott’s performance as a man slowly losing control is both convincing and unsettling. But as the story progresses, the pacing begins to falter. The film’s structure is uneven, with too many starts and stops. The danger Blake poses to his family doesn’t quite escalate as quickly as it should, and there are several moments where the tension evaporates due to pacing missteps or overly drawn-out scenes. The climax, while intense, feels a bit predictable, and the movie stretches its runtime with a final chase that feels more obligatory than a natural, satisfying conclusion.
Blake’s gradual transformation, both physically and emotionally, is one of the highlights of the film. The prosthetics and special effects used to depict his change are impressive, but it is Abbott’s ability to convey the internal turmoil of a man losing his humanity that truly anchors the film. However, the same cannot be said for Garner’s portrayal of Charlotte. While her subdued performance might be intentional - mirroring her character’s own emotional distance - it ultimately leaves her reaction to the events unfolding around her feeling somewhat undercooked. It’s hard to discern what Charlotte is thinking throughout the film, outside of one genuinely fantastic scene early on where the struggling couple have a tough but honest talk.
Garner’s talent as an actor is undeniable, yet the challenges of her character's development lie more with the writing and direction than with her performance. She brings a depth to Charlotte that is subtly restrained, though the lack of clarity in her character's motivations and internal conflict leaves her portrayal feeling under-explored at times.
The film's conclusion, despite providing some catharsis, feels unnecessarily drawn-out. The danger to Blake’s family seems to ebb and flow as if the filmmakers weren’t quite sure when to pull the trigger on the finale. It ends up just dragging the tension further than it needs to go. It’s a structurally messy decision that ultimately detracts from the impact of the story.
Despite these flaws, Wolf Man is still a film with a distinct vision and plenty of moments that stand out. The atmosphere, effects and unique take on the werewolf mythos elevate the film beyond standard genre fare. While the pacing issues and predictable plot developments hold it back from being truly great, Whannell’s commitment to emotional depth and tension make Wolf Man worth a watch for horror fans. It’s a film that shows flashes of brilliance but struggles to fully realize its potential.
'Wolf Man' is now playing in theaters.
