Joe Johnston
Wolfman

The wolf, considered in ancient times as a formidable predator and revered in many animist cultures as the intermediary between man and natural primordial forces, undergoes, in the medieval period, a sort of demonization process and, during the witch hunts and the persecution of pagan cults, becomes the symbol of evil and the instinctive malice inherent in human beings.

Thus arose the belief in the existence of a kind of "cerebral melancholia", a psychiatric disorder that, on full moon nights, causes some individuals to take on the appearance of the wolf, to wander through the woods committing evil and heinous acts, and, once the crisis is over, to return to normalcy without any memory of their actions. Deemed, with the rise of Christianity, as worshippers of the devil, the werewolves, or rather the unlucky ones presumed to be so, were feared and persecuted, becoming symbols of primordial and perverse urges and catalysts of collective fears. The Christian attempt to contain and eliminate popular cultures of pagan origin led to the emergence of a series of healing saints in action with tame wolves (see St. Francis of Assisi or St. Dominic).

Lacking a body of literature and the result of intertwining over the centuries of legends and folk songs, the story of the wolfman made its first appearance in cinemas in the 1940s, and after a series of variations on the theme, now arrives in theaters with this remake that, without too many pretensions and expectations, reproposes the story set in late 1800s England.

Set in the English moorland, with the backdrop of foggy full moon nights and with a good dose of blood flows, severed limbs, and various guttings, the film offers a sort of psychological connotation to the already well-known narrative, proposing a series of interesting insights: the reinterpretation of the Oedipus complex, a curse that condemns a family to deal with the darkest areas of being, the punitive psychiatry of the late 19th century, the Hamletic relationship between a father entrenched in his secret and a son, a romantic hero on the brink, trapped in a kind of mournful immobility. The inclusion of Inspector Abberline of Scotland Yard, who investigated the case of Jack the Ripper, triggers a sort of contamination between reality and the fantastic icon.

It's a pity that, perhaps due to excessive fidelity to the original or to the short duration, these remain just ideas, without any being fully developed. Everything progresses quite quickly without eliciting either fear or unease in the viewer; in fact, the attempt to scare is often entrusted to rather predictable gimmicks.