The ideal Valentine movie, for the woman who likes a little bit of rough.
We've come a loooong way from when an actor would take a sip from a beaker spouting wispy clouds of gas, clutch his throat, duck down behind a sofa and reappear with fangs and a hairy face.
However, if you ignore the cutting edge effects, this film adds little to the old sprouty hair and teeth genre.
Interestingly, there's lots to compare with Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes. Where he elected to redo the classic with modern editing and action, this Wolfman was quite traditional, almost plodding in its faithfulness to the original concept - misty moors, manors and mores.
Also, both movies feature 17th century London skylines and streets, and pivotal scenes around Tower Bridge.
However, aside from the repetitious pop-up scary fang and snarl moments, there was little to move the viewer. Apart from the arses next to me that is, who jumped and wimpered at every scene, like they got lost on their way to an intended Disney experience.
Anthony Hopkins has become a caricature of Hannibal Lecter, hamming up every scene with his out-of-place Welsh accent, and Benicio Del Toro continues his slide from the Usual Suspects, Traffic and Che.
If I can be forgiven a dreadful pun, this Wolfman lacks bite.
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