Joe Johnston’s The Wolfman is no howler.

Joe Johnston’s The Wolfman is an atmospheric throwback to the classic Universal monster movies, updating the tragic tale of lycanthropy for the 21st century. With its fog-drenched moors, Gothic castles, and a cast led by Benicio del Toro, Anthony Hopkins, and Emily Blunt, the film clearly aims to balance reverence for its 1941 predecessor with the expectations of modern audiences. The result is an ambitious but uneven film—one that excels in its aesthetic and performances but stumbles a bit it comes to balancing both sides of its narrative nature.

The story follows Lawrence Talbot (del Toro), an American stage actor who returns to his family estate in Victorian England after the mysterious death of his brother. Lawrence soon finds himself cursed with the bite of a werewolf, and what follows is a descent into madness, bloodshed, and a tortured battle with his monstrous new identity. While The Wolfman is anchored by del Toro’s sombre portrayal of Talbot as a man haunted by his past and his transformation, the film’s real strength lies in its commitment to old-school horror atmospherics.

Visually, The Wolfman is stunning. As you’d expect from director Joe Johnstone, the period production design is richly detailed, capturing the brooding elegance of Victorian England and the inherent creepiness of fog-covered forests and dark, looming mansions. The cinematography by Shelly Johnson amplifies this Gothic sensibility, playing with shadow and light in ways that harken back to the Universal horror films of the 1930s and 40s. The oppressive mood, combined with Danny Elfman’s haunting score, evokes a sense of tragic grandeur that permeates the entire film. Every frame feels like it’s steeped in fog and sorrow, perfectly mirroring Lawrence’s descent into his own monstrous nature.

But while the aesthetic is near-flawless, The Wolfman struggles with its pacing and story development, especially in the balance between character moments and the demands of action-heavy set pieces. The CGI transformation scenes—while impressive in their visceral detail—often undercut the emotional weight of Talbot’s suffering. Rick Baker’s practical makeup effects, a loving nod to the original Jack Pierce designs, are superb, but the reliance on CGI for full-on werewolf carnage creates a slightly jarring juxtaposition. What could have been a harrowing, slow-burn transformation ends up as a digital showcase that occasionally feels out of sync with the film’s otherwise restrained, classical tone.

The performances, however, are solid. Del Toro gives a brooding, melancholic performance that adds layers to Lawrence’s torment, though at times, his underplayed demeanour feels at odds with the film’s more bombastic moments. Anthony Hopkins chews the scenery as Sir John Talbot, Lawrence’s enigmatic and malevolent father, while Emily Blunt delivers an emotional depth as Gwen Conliffe, Lawrence’s love interest, despite her character being somewhat underwritten. Blunt’s chemistry with del Toro is subtle but effective, and she manages to bring a sense of grounded humanity to a film that often teeters on the edge of melodrama.

One of the film’s more notable achievements is its handling of the werewolf mythos. It doesn’t shy away from the brutality of the transformation or the visceral horror of being hunted by a creature of the night. Limbs are torn, blood is spilled, and the film earns its R-rating with a series of brutal, well-choreographed action scenes even if this brutality is often at odds with the film’s quieter moments. Rather than metatextually echo Talbot’s chimeric nature, it ends up creating a tonal inconsistency that detracts from the overall impact.

Despite its flaws, The Wolfman is a worthy, if not altogether successful attempt at reviving a classic monster for a new generation and yet more evidence that while the Dark Universe debacle hogs the ignominious limelight, Universal have been trying to revive their classic monster properties for decades. The Wolfman’s thematic core—man’s battle with his inner beast—remains compelling, and Johnston’s direction, while uneven, is steeped in a genuine love for the source material.

It’s not a perfect film, but it captures the essence of what makes the werewolf legend so enduring: the agony of losing oneself to the primal, the fear of becoming something unrecognisable, and the haunting tragedy of a monster that no silver bullet can ever truly kill.