By Anthony Caruso
Leigh Whannell’s Wolf Man is a masterful, slow-burn thriller that revitalizes the classic Universal Monster for a new era. Much like his modern reimagining of The Invisible Man, Whannell trades supernatural elements for a grounded, contemporary twist. Instead of potions or curses, the “wolf” here emerges from an incurable illness, and this recontextualization works brilliantly. With stunning direction, visceral body horror, and a thoughtful exploration of humanity and monstrosity, Wolf Man solidifies Whannell as one of the foremost auteurs of modern horror.
The performances are top-notch, with Christopher Abbott delivering a gut-wrenching portrayal of a man grappling with the terrifying transformation of his body and mind. The film demands a lot from its lead, balancing moments of vulnerability, rage, and despair, and Abbott is up to the task. His slow descent into his condition is hauntingly realistic, made even more unsettling by the supporting cast’s reactions, which mirror the audience’s unease.
Sam Jaeger’s portrayal of the Wolf Man, meanwhile, is another highlight. While his design may stir debate among fans, Jaeger’s physicality and the emotive nuances he brings to the creature lend it an air of tragic humanity. The makeup design might lack the lush, fur-heavy appearance of previous iterations, but its stripped-down, sinewy look serves this story’s tone. In shadowy or dimly lit scenes, the Wolf Man is absolutely terrifying—though in brightly lit moments, the design falters slightly, exposing a lack of fine detail. Even so, it remains a faithful nod to the original film's aesthetic, with a modern twist that is more grounded than fantastical. Indeed, the design of Jaeger's Wolf Man in particular is much better looking than Abbott's turns out to be in the end.
Whannell’s direction is nothing short of stunning. From the first frame, it’s clear he has a meticulous eye for detail, building tension through stark lighting, clever transitions, and innovative sound design. The way the film shifts between the Wolf Man’s perspective and that of the humans around him is a stroke of genius. The sound design, in particular, deserves praise for immersing viewers in the heightened senses and animalistic instincts of the titular creature, amplifying the horror and disorientation of his plight. The cinematography and lighting play a significant role in creating the film’s moody, suspenseful atmosphere. Whannell knows when to keep things in the shadows, allowing our imaginations to fill in the gaps, and when to reveal just enough to make us squirm. The body horror sequences are visceral and deeply uncomfortable, capturing the physical and psychological toll of the transformation with unflinching intensity.
At its heart, Wolf Man is about the loss of control—over one’s body, mind, and fate. The film explores themes of illness, identity, and alienation with intelligence and nuance, grounding the horror in real-world fears. This makes the story all the more compelling and relatable, even as it ventures into the supernatural-adjacent territory.
While Wolf Man doesn’t quite reach the heights of Whannell’s The Invisible Man, which I’d deem a masterpiece, it’s still a fantastic film in its own right. The trailers didn’t do it justice—this is a gripping, gorgeously crafted thriller that balances horror with pathos and delivers a fresh take on an iconic character. Blumhouse desperately needed a win after a rough 2024, and Wolf Man delivers in spades. It’s a fantastic way to kick off 2025, and I’m already looking forward to revisiting this one every Halloween season. Leigh Whannell has proven yet again that he’s a master of modern horror, and I sincerely hope this film’s success paves the way for his reimaginings of the rest of the Universal Monsters. Imagine what he could do with Count Dracula or Frankenstein's Monster!
In short, Wolf Man is a triumph of atmosphere, storytelling, and innovation—an intelligent and thrilling reimagining of a classic tale that feels both timeless and urgently relevant. Don’t miss it.