Wolf Man is darker, scarier and sadder than the 1935 Universal horror classic its based on

Since 1935, when "Werewolf of London" first brought the werewolf image to the big screen, nearly a century has passed. This film initiated a long tradition of werewolf movies, featuring plenty of hairy howlers, chilling transformations, and heartbroken tailors.

However, in Universal Pictures' latest remake of this classic horror film, you won't see a full moon, silver bullets, or ominous villagers. In "Wolfman," Melbourne-born filmmaker Leigh Whannell strips away much of the familiar lore, adding a new twist to the story with a tense, almost claustrophobic thriller that focuses on family and the darkness lurking within.

Whannell successfully found a new angle for another Universal classic in his 2020 remake of "The Invisible Man," reshaping the ethereal ghost into a modern exploration of the horrors of domestic abuse. Here, he takes a similar approach to this somewhat outdated series, creating a film that both pays homage to its origins and reveals the horror and grief within a family.

Christopher Abbott plays Blake, an unemployed writer with anxiety etched on his face. He lives in a San Francisco apartment with his journalist wife, Charlotte (Julia Garner), and their young daughter, Ginger (Matilda Firth). Their marriage is strained: he worries they are drifting apart; she's jealous that Ginger seems to prefer him. Unexpectedly, Blake receives a letter announcing the death of his estranged father, who mysteriously disappeared years ago from the family's farmhouse in Oregon. The old man was obsessed in Blake's childhood with a mythical creature known to the indigenous people as the "Wolf-Faced Man"—an obsession that traumatized and hurt his son.

Dragging the family deep into the Oregon woods to a gloomy rural cabin doesn't seem like the best way to save a marriage (especially when—hello—you're a tormented writer), but nonetheless, Blake convinces Charlotte and Ginger to help sort out his father's estate. They soon find themselves in a moving truck heading to the Pacific Northwest, and things quickly become unsettling. To avoid an unknown creature on the road, Blake crashes the truck into the forest, scratching his forearm.

Was he scratched by the broken glass of the truck window, or bitten by some evil creature lurking in the night? Of course, anyone who has seen a movie knows the answer. Sure enough, once the family arrives at the house, Blake starts feeling unwell. He loses a tooth, and some hair. Then, the sound of spiders crawling begins to sound like the footsteps of elephants.

One of the most striking things about this version of "Wolfman" is how long it takes for its character to transform into a werewolf. During a long and gloomy night, we watch almost in slow motion as Blake loses his connection to humanity, further retreating into an animistic world; his vision and hearing blur, and everything around him takes on an abstract sense of being between life and death.

The poor guy also has one of the worst werewolf manes in movie history, looking more like a drugged-up orc than a president of the werewolf hairstyle club. On the surface, it's easy to classify "Wolfman" as another attack on "toxic" masculinity, a theme that has been over-mined in cultural discussions over the past decade to the point where it seems to have long lost any meaning. This interpretation certainly exists, especially in the patriarchal context of the film and the need for characters to escape male dominance; the film could also be titled "It Ends with Lupus."

However, there is something sadder and more mournful in "Wolfman" that goes beyond simple gender analysis. The idea that anyone can be taken from their loved ones and changed in ways they cannot control is a touching element here. Abbott's unsettling presence—at its best, echoing Jeff Goldblum's tragic disintegration in "The Fly"—conveys a man's struggle to protect his family, even when he is the very thing that threatens them. Garner's performance is equally heartbreaking, resilient, and compassionate.

This is also thanks to the script—co-written by Whannell and his actress wife, Corbet Tuck—which takes the time to establish a tender family dynamic, making it all the more tragic when that love is torn apart. If all of this sounds a bit gloomy, rest assured, there are plenty of terrifying thrills here. As the co-creator of "Saw" and "Insidious," and a key figure at horror production company Blumhouse, Whannell knows not to let thematic considerations overwhelm the gory fun.

In "Wolfman," limbs are gnawed, nails come off fingers, and flesh peels from bone. At the same time, the film is so relentlessly gloomy that Universal's original iconic misty "Wolfman" forest looks like a breakfast talk show, and the sound is so loud that you might feel like you have canine hearing. And, although it's only 103 minutes long, it feels at least half an hour shorter. Whannell keeps his foot on the gas: no frills, no unnecessary diversions, just a tight, terrifying thriller that distills the story to its raw essence. In an era dominated by so-called "elevated" horror, this is something to cheer for.

"Wolfman" is now in theaters.