Leigh Whannell has spent the past decade proving himself as one of the most exciting genre directors working today. With Upgrade (2018), he delivered a kinetic sci-fi thriller that felt like an adrenaline shot to the system. The Invisible Man (2020) took a dusty Universal monster and repackaged it into a chilling, socially relevant nightmare. So when it was announced that Whannell would be tackling Wolf Man, there was every reason to be excited.
Which makes it all the more baffling that Wolf Man is such a misfire.
Let’s start with the script. Dialogue is often the Achilles’ heel of horror films, but here, it feels almost deliberately unnatural. The family dynamic—Christopher Abbott as the father, Julia Garner as the mother, and Matilda Firth as their daughter—never rings true. The parents speak to the child as if they’ve never met a human child before, let alone raised one. It’s as if an AI was given 50 hours of family drama footage and told to replicate how normal people interact—but it only managed to retain the awkward pauses.
And then there are the baffling creative decisions. At one point, a group of characters attempt to escape the werewolf by hiding on top of a greenhouse made from nothing but a thin plastic sheet. As if a werewolf—a creature with claws designed for evisceration—would be baffled by a thin layer of polyethylene. Scenes like this rob the film of tension because instead of gripping the armrest, you’re sitting there thinking, Well, that’s just stupid.
The film also suffers from a compulsive need to explain itself. The Invisible Man worked because Whannell trusted the audience to piece things together. Wolf Man, on the other hand, spoon-feeds every plot point, over-explaining its own mythology as if worried we might not understand the basic concept of a werewolf. At times, it feels like it’s terrified of being too ambiguous, yet ironically, that only makes it feel more hollow.
But it’s not all bad. The film’s strongest element is its commitment to body horror. Rather than a full-blown transformation into a hulking, furry beast, this version of the Wolf Man leans into the grotesque. Christopher Abbott’s character doesn’t so much morph as he does fall apart—clawing at his own skin, pulling at his gums, his body betraying him in real time. It’s a nightmarish take on lycanthropy, and for brief moments, you can see the film Wolf Man could have been.
The core idea—a father transforming into something unrecognizable, seen through the terrified eyes of his wife and child—is a great one. And had Whannell focused on this tragic aspect of the story, really dug into the emotional horror of it all, the film could have been something special. Instead, it flits between half-developed ideas, unsure whether it wants to be a monster movie, a family drama, or a psychological thriller. The result is a film that never quite commits to any of them.
Is it bad? Not exactly. But it is Whannell’s weakest film to date, and for a director with such a strong track record, that’s disappointing. Wolf Man is a film that constantly feels like it’s on the verge of doing something interesting, something bold—but it never quite takes that step. It howls, but it never bites.
6.5/10
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