For what has seemed like decades, Universal has been attempting to revive its long-deceased cinematic universe based around iconic monsters that populated several incredibly successful and historically important horror films made between the 1930s and late 1940s. Despite their best efforts, there haven’t been many instances where it felt like they were doing anything particularly noteworthy, at least not enough to justify the existence of some of these films, such as the ill-fated The Mummy, which essentially ended all discussion on this pursuit. The sole instance where we saw some promise in the idea in recent years came on behalf of Leigh Whannell, whose loose remake of The Invisible Man a while ago seemed to imply that it was entirely possible to revive these dormant characters and bring them into the 21st century in a way that feels not only logical but artistically resonant. A fascinating voice in contemporary cinema in his own right, the director has made some strong works over the years, and seemed like a logical choice to return to collaborate with the studio on a future endeavour into their treasure trove of fascinating horror characters – and this time, he is tackling another iconic figure in the form of The Wolf Man, the ill-fated family man who finds himself infected by a virus that turns him into a grotesque hybrid. Wolf Man is another relatively strong entry into not only the director’s career, but the studio’s ongoing efforts to revive what they are hoping will be a profitable franchise – and while it certainly is not without its distinctive shortcomings, Wolf Man is still a much better film than it perhaps had the right to be, and signals a clear turn towards the positive as far as this generation of monster-based filmmaking is concerned, being the perfect combination of classical horror and more modern works of terror, which amounts to a wildly entertaining and genuinely chilling voyage into the darkest and most unhinged fears that are contained within every one of us in some form.

Whether we are looking at the earlier versions of this character, such as the interpretation given by Lon Chaney Jr. in his landmark performance or any of the others that have followed since the character of the Wolfman has been at the heart of several works based around the concept of monstrosity, unlike other iconic figures in horror who are malicious in their intentions, this character is someone who yearns to lead a normal life. Still, due to factors out of his control, he falls victim to a sense of darkness that leads to violence and chaos. This relates to several common conversations around monstrosity, particularly in the belief that there is an animalistic barbarism that lingers within each of us that is patiently waiting to emerge when given the opportunity, which is the core of this narrative and the concept from which the director is working. Whannell, along with co-writer Corbett Tuck, is very much dedicated to this premise, but rather than retreading all of the themes that we have found populating this story, he chooses to go in his own direction, which is the foundation of Wolf Man, a contemporary spin on this age-old concept, and one that executes everything quite well precisely because of how it shows reverence to what has come before, but in a way that feels earnest and authentic, rather than simply following the same patterns in the hopes of producing similar results. The simplicity is what keeps Wolf Man so interesting – it doesn’t aspire to be anything more than it appears to be on the surface, offering the same kind of thrills that we’d expect when watching a more classical work of horror, with only a few modern inclusions – such as the concept of remote work or certain forms of contemporary technology – situating the film within the contemporary era, making it resonant without sacrificing the quality of the tribute being made, the balance between the two being a clear sign of the quality of this film.

For the central role of the ill-fated everyman who finds himself becoming infected with some mysterious disease that results in the arrival of the titular creature, Whannell enlists Christopher Abbott, who is a strong choice for the role for several reasons. Primarily, we find that the character needs an actor who can play into the inherent empathy and warmth, even while gradually descending into this state of grotesque animalism. Unlike the Chaney version, in which the character oscillates between human and wolf, this film positions him as someone who is gradually transforming permanently into this creature, which does remove the novelty of the werewolf mythology, but in a way that feels oddly appropriate considering the nature of the film. The most important aspect of the character and the actor playing him was the ability to not simply be a vessel for the spectacle of the film – it would have been extremely easy to force the character into a position where they are nothing more than a device used to frighten the viewer, but there is empathy to the film that overcomes these one-dimensional tendencies and becomes remarkably concise, even at its weakest moments. Abbott is not a slave to the transformation, and even in his final moments manages to act through the prosthetics, his distinctly warm eyes and constant ability to play into the tragic story of this character being present right until the final haunting moments. Julia Garner plays his wife, and while she has some solid moments, the film doesn’t prove to be much of a showcase for her and often plays into some of her weaknesses, such as an overt seriousness and a tendency to not be able to make her characters feel entirely authentic. Nonetheless, as the film’s de facto protagonist, once Abbott crosses the point of no return, she does serve a purpose, even if a better performance could have been delivered, at least in terms of creating some kind of consistency between the characters.

Wolf Man understands that audiences don’t always seek out horror films that have deeper meanings, and while it’s undeniable that it will provoke through around the aforementioned concept of monstrosity, as well as smaller conversations around grief and family, these are only contextual elements that push the film forward, rather than being their primary purpose. Except the opening scene set several decades in the past, and a few expositionary sequences at the start, the film takes place on a single day, which is one of the many elements that make it feel like a more classical horror, with the limited timeframe in which the events take place reminding us of old-fashioned slasher films, in which most of the horror was contained in quite a small period, creating a sense of urgency and allowing the moments in between the terror to be filled with some fascinating character development rather than adding unnecessary layers to something that should have been kept far more straightforward. Additionally, Whannell draws on the natural beauty of the landscapes – the film was shot in New Zealand, which stands in for rural Oregon, and the splendour of the region creates a fascinating contrast between the stunning landscapes and the animalistic evil that lurks within. The director focuses on the practical elements to tell this story, not only in terms of the physical transformation of the characters, but also the way the film transpires – the house in which much of the film takes place is exceptionally well-designed, being another terrific example of how a location can often define the horror in the same way as the more traditionally unsettling elements, and the filmmaking itself is fast-paced and constantly enthralling, even in the quieter and more subtle moments. Through all of this, the film still finds space for a compassionate glimpse into the lives of these characters how they deal with a horrifying crisis, and their efforts to overcome the terror they are forced to endure, which only adds further nuance to the narrative.

While it is unlikely to be viewed as some revolutionary or experimental masterpiece – and essentially the best it can hope to achieve is to perform decently financially so that further entries into this growing revival can continue – Wolf Man is still a solid, entertaining film that has a sincerity that is often missing in a lot of horror. This is not only related to the narrative and how it handles some of the more human emotions that are often not present in these broader, more violent works of horror, but also to how it actively attempts to revive a style of filmmaking in which high-concept storytelling is not at all necessary, and instead the majority of the work is done through more subtle, recognizable cues that ultimately come together to form an oddly entertaining, captivating horror film that takes itself seriously enough to possess a strong artistic vision, but also doesn’t get to the point where it becomes too overwrought in trying to prove its ingenuity and complexity when in reality all audiences expect are a few well-placed scares and a story that keeps us engaged. Whannell represents a very promising generation of genre filmmakers who are not afraid to curate these masterfully constructed, intricate works that pay tribute to the past while acknowledging the requirements of modern filmmaking – and even if it may not be seen as his signature work, it impossible to not see the potential in this film, and celebrate it as the daring attempt to revive a kind of horror that we haven’t seen effectively executed in years, and which forms the foundation for this tremendously compelling and deeply enduring work of pure terror.