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Wolf Man ★★★★★

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Released: 17 January 2025

Director: Leigh Whannell

Starring: Christopher Abbott, Julia Garner

“What if someone you loved became something else?” This question defines the refreshing vulnerability of Leigh Whannell’s latest genre reinvention, Wolf Man, instantly setting the tone for the transformation that is about to unfold. Whannell is no stranger to killer elevator pitches: from “engineer with an affinity for torturous traps” down to “abusive tech tycoon rocking an invisibility suit”, the Australian horror master has his finger firmly on the pulse when it comes to contemporary genre trends. It’s these timely horror stories that define his uniquely frightening filmmaking style, echoing the terrors of reality in the comfort of a cinema hall. With yet another fresh take on the classic Universal Monsters, Whannell delves even deeper into the humanity of the monstrous – a force that could just as easily devour the monster itself.

Abandon any knowledge of lycanthropy all who enter here: Whannell’s idea for hairy transformations is a stark departure from traditional werewolf iconography, instead opting for an infection angle. Tackling the anxieties surrounding degenerative diseases, the film presents an utterly nightmarish scenario that befalls the Lovell family: Blake (Christopher Abbott), a writer and a devoted dad, receives the news that his missing father has been pronounced dead. Shaken by the information, he nonetheless chooses to confront his past and venture deep into the woods of Oregon – the very place he once ran away from. Upon convincing his wife Charlotte (Julia Garner) and daughter Ginger (Matilda Firth) to take a break from the bustling city, the family sets off to the old farmhouse, only to be attacked along the way by the eponymous Wolf Man. Stuck in the cabin with nowhere to hide, Blake realizes that the monster outside might not be the only creature he should be afraid of.

It’s far from a stretch to say that Wolf Man shares some of the same DNA with The Invisible Man: both films ground their monsters in the terrifying reality of the everyday, in turn completely disarming their audience. How does one face an evil force that could effortlessly cross the safety barrier of the silver screen? Where Upgrade smartly tapped into the rightful fear of AI implementation, Wolf Man conveys the ubiquitous dread of corporeal decay that runs through generations. What if lycanthropy is nothing but a commonly observed degenerative disease, able to turn anyone into a primal shell of their former self? How does one protect their family if they’re grasping at the last remnants of their own humanity? Whannell combines the external fear of the unknown with the tangible terror within, flipping the script on conventional genre foundations. Co-written by Whannell alongside his wife, Corbett Tuck, the film feels like a family affair in more ways than one, probing the complexities of partners stuck in isolation and forced to experience unspeakable tragedies in the company of each other.

Much like the director’s previous effort, Wolf Man is anchored by its lead performance. Whannell was always adamant about his vision of the iconic character becoming “scary again”, yet there’s so much emotional complexity beneath the façade of a simple creature feature. Christopher Abbott’s rendition of a modernized werewolf is an astoundingly tragic figure, a vulnerable and starkly affecting outing worthy of the classic genre fare from the 40s. Due to the nature of the role, Abbott is changing in real-time: the latter half of the film sees the actor commit to a non-verbal performance, employing physicality as a form of tender affection and animalistic ferocity. The affliction causes a fundamental rift within the family, as Blake is no longer able to perceive his loved ones – the most petrifying concept in Whannell’s entire oeuvre. The camera smartly plays with perspectives, veering from Abbott’s sensory “wolf vision” to Garner’s palpably human reality, allowing its viewer to experience the true horror of the film: the state of being worlds apart, despite close physical proximity. It’s a remarkably tender inclusion that renders the film’s fear-inducing aspects truly universal.

Formal experimentation has long been a staple of Whannell’s filmmaking, and his latest is no exception: Wolf Man constantly toys with lighting techniques and camera rigs, amplifying the conceptual ingenuity of shifting points of view through the expertly composed indoor photography. Blake’s transformation prompts a reinvention of the camera, shaping the narrative through strikingly empathetic visual storytelling. Whannell clearly expects his audience to venture beyond fear, reflecting cinema’s most affective qualities – it’s a deeply personal subject matter for the filmmaker, conveyed through a gripping, nail-bitingly tense genre framework. Monstrous fatherhood might not be the first thing to evoke werewolves, but Whannell certainly makes these concepts feel synonymous.

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