The longer I wait to write this review, the sadder it gets. And what’s funny is, I wasn’t avoiding it at first, I was just busy. But then later, I got to a point where I didn’t want to write anything at all, and I don’t know if that was valid and on me or if it was due to review dread. And then later still, I realized that it kept getting sadder the longer I waited, which of course did not do anything to encourage me to get a move on. But then I finished a book last night, and if there’s one thing I cannot abide, it’s a log jam. Resultantly, you get this horribly explanatory paragraph because at least it gives my fingers something to do while my brain is still warming up.[1]

As you have no doubt worked out for yourself by now, I saw The Wolfman last Wednesday. In 19th Century England, an Americanized actor returns to his ancestral home when he receives word from his brother’s fiancée that the brother has gone missing. By the time he arrives, his brother’s badly mauled body has been found, but of course before all of the affairs are concluded and he could leave, events conspire to leave him bitten by a werewolf, and then we’re off to the races. Here’s what I can say about the movie: it got a lot of things right. The brooding moors, the equally brooding London town, the yet again equally brooding characters, both bit and primary, I guess what I’m saying is that there was atmosphere thick enough to choke upon. And the wolfman himself? It was simultaneously a perfect callback to Lon Chaney Jr’s original look and a special effects updatestravaganza. What I’m saying is, this was a very moody, very pretty film, and it was cast to match.

If only they had saved some money and / or creative energy for use upon the script. Or even, if they couldn’t afford dialogue, then at least for the plot. ‘Cause, man.

Man.

[1] If I were smarter, I would edit out these process pieces after I’d had time to write something actually good instead.