Directed by: Joe Johnston
Starring: Emily Blunt, Geraldine Chaplin, Benicio del Toro, Anthony Hopkins, Hugo Weaving
Rating: R

(Courtesy photo)

About 20 years ago, Universal Studios decided to remake their classic horror titles with big budgets, big directors, and big stars. The first was Dracula in 1992, directed by Francis Ford Coppola. It was an ambitious, unruly film, equally filled with enchanting images and pure nonsense. It was only a moderate success. Frankenstein, directed by Kenneth Branagh and starring Robert De Niro, was also very ambitious, but a colossal dud. The pedigree fell for The Mummy, with director Stephen Sommers turning the horror classic into a slapsticky Indiana Jones knock-off. That one, of course, was a massive success. Apparently Universal had figured it out. Two sequels later, not so much.

The Wolfman arrives a mere two years behind schedule, as a mix between commercial and pedigreed. The result is a disaster. It was probably doomed as soon as Benicio del Toro took the lead role of Lawrence Talbot. The script is supposedly based on Curt Siodmak’s script for the original 1941 Wolfman, though it’s hard to recognize where. Talbot is now a famed actor returned to London after years in America. His brother Ben has been killed—supposedly by a wild beast—and Lawrence returns to Talbot Hall at the request of Ben’s fiancée Gwen Conliffe (Emily Blunt) to find the killer. Lawrence is also reunited with his father Sir John Talbot (Anthony Hopkins), who seems cruelly unmoved by Ben’s death. In fact, he seems unmoved by anything. Lawrence’s investigation leads him to a gypsy camp, where Maleva (Geraldine Chaplin) tells him the killer is a werewolf. She’s proven right moments later when the beast attacks the camp, killing swiftly and viciously. Lawrence is bitten that night, but recovers. All too quickly, it turns out. Soon Lawrence is turning hairy and eating more people.

First the good part: the art direction is wonderfully atmospheric. Director Joe Johnston (Jurassic Park 3) manages to transfer the evocative backstage atmosphere of the old Universal films to real English locales. The overall effect is absurdly foggy and grey, but is just right for a rousing monster movie. Also, the transformations, while frustratingly brief, are pretty fun.

Now the not-so-good: once the transformation ends, we’re left with a wolfman who looks better suited to 21st-century Las Vegas than 19th-century England. Scary, with that cute little button nose? The script adaptation by Andrew Kevin Walker (Se7en) and David Self (Road to Perdition) is oddly confusing, considering how little actually happens. It’s one of those “mysteries” where one character (in this case, Sir John) has all the information. It merely depends on when he feels like sharing. And when he finally does, it explains very little of his bizarre behavior. The script most reminded me of Self’s 1999 stinker, The Haunting. I didn’t think a movie could trump that film’s fake scare content, but this one triples it. In fact, there are far more imagined frights than real ones.

I think most would agree Benicio (Traffic, Che) is a top-flight actor. Unfortunately, this performance is historically bad. Del Toro, a huge fan of the wolfman, simply can’t manage the period. Nor can he deliver the pulpy dialogue. Nor can he pull off the weird hairdo, and his lunky physicality does little to suggest lycanthropic athleticism. Anthony Hopkins has a grand old time projecting how poor he thinks the material is. His performance, though amusing, recalls all too closely his most laughable work—1994’s Legends of the Fall. Somehow the luminescent Emily Blunt (The Young Victoria) moves gracefully through this train wreck. She deserves a special award for seeming genuinely attracted to the somnambulant del Toro. And Hugo Weaving (The Matrix) purrs his lines with style as Inspector Abbeline.

And thus Universal has completed its revived monster cycle on a low note. And in spite of a very half-hearted nudge toward sequels at the end, this really should be the end. Johnston gamely shoots for old-fashioned gothic fun, but never manages to capture the dangerous thrill of the two-legged wolfman. This guy is a huge step back from all the fun, scary werewolves of the past 30 years. The exact same movie with a more appropriate lead might have been junky fun. I love Benicio del Toro, but his version is little more than great atmosphere, a few cheap scares, and a lot of unintended laughs.

Alex Manugian lives in Sherman Oaks, Calif. He grew up in Groton and has reviewed movies for Harvard readers for many years.