The Wolfman: Critic Reviews

The Wolfman, hokey and uneven though it is, [has] the kind of authentic emotional hook that too many horror movies today don't have.

The title character in The Wolfman suffers from a vexing identity crisis, and so does the movie.

Del Toro looks about as dangerous as an urban fox snoozing in a compost bin and Blunt seems to be suffering from some residual Victorian queenliness. Looking in the mirror afterwards, I seemed pale from weariness.

There's not much to recommend this dull, cheerless and not very scary re-imagining of the classic 1941 film.

While it's sleeker and more sophisticated than the Chaney version, this new Wolfman isn't any scarier.

A misty, moody Saturday-matinee monster-chiller-horror special that hits the same sweet spot for moviegoers of a certain age (cough) as those snap-together Frankenstein model kits from the late 1960s.

There's a lot to appreciate in the shaggy, imperfect but still fun new version of The Wolf Man.

A film that begins in an eerie gothic mist of suggestion-and turns into a toothless exercise in the obvious.

Actors fulminate and masticate, spit, scowl and sob; what a gas it is to watch them overact with joy and conviction.

Consider The Wolfman a pedigreed genre yarn, mindful of its precedents but nimble enough to have a good time in the here and now.

Anthony Hopkins portrays Sir John Talbot. Benicio Del Toro is prodigal son Lawrence. That's a great deal of acting sinew for an oddly anemic outing.

In any event, The Wolfman makes a satisfactory date movie for Valentine's Day, which is more than can be said for Valentine's Day.

The Wolfman constitutes a pleasant surprise, if "pleasant" can be used to describe a brooding $100 million-plus diversion with this many beheadings and eviscerations.

Compared to Van Helsing, this is fairly satisfying.

A lavish coffee table book of a horror film, The Wolfman features visuals so beautifully planned and executed that each frame begs to be lingered over and savored.

Benicio Del Toro pulls off a nifty trick in The Wolfman: He makes turning into a werewolf look as dull as doing your taxes.

The Wolfman ends up a disappointment, then, somewhat interesting in places, but nothing to howl about.

Johnston sacrifices originality for computer graphics and stop-motion camera tricks, and the script, by Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self, bulges with real howlers: "I didn't know you hunted monsters." "Sometimes monsters hunt you!"

"Why so serious?" would be an excellent question to direct at the makers of The Wolfman, a high-toned, bloody but otherwise bloodless effort.

Like buffalo meat, The Wolfman is a little too lean for its own good.

Del Toro gives his least mumbly performance in years, Blunt provides the film with a little heart and Hopkins delivers the laughs.

This Wolfman is a howler but not in a good way.

The violence is horrific, but it's not scary.

An ill-considered, utterly unnecessary remake.

It doesn't know whether it wants to be dark and moodily glamorous or ridiculous and gory -- it's a creature feature suffering from extreme class consciousness.