I watched the seemingly interminable "unrated edition" of this boring claptrap on DVD before committing this judgement to paper. In my opinion, this film is the unfortunate product of a Hollywood film industry that has no future because it keeps trying to reinterpret and recycle its past glories. The only way it can do this is to use ever more sophisticated but lifeless technological means to render the gore gorier and the noise noisier while paying no attention to the other aspects of film entertainment that are logic, structure, continuity, viewer involvement, intelligence, wit, humour, deft touches, originality and creative power.
Everything about this film is derivative. Its photography, rhythm, lighting, art direction and best effects are all imitated from F.F. Coppola's "Bram Stoker's Dracula" with the major exception that Coppola's film wasn't shot in this generic blue-green half-assed washed-out imitation of a two-strip Technicolor film, a yawn-inducing conceit borrowed from every other horror film produced in the last 10 years. It is high time that CGI technicians leave their mother's basement and learn once and for all what real sunlight looks like. The overall effect is as depressing as the overdone CGI landscapes in "Van Helsing", the very nadir of this kind of artificial entertainment. The only film this one is NOT derivative of, actually, is the original 1941 "The Wolfman" script by Curt Siodmak.
The film fails in logic in many ways. One of them is casting Benicio Del Toro not only as an Englishman but as an aristocratic Englishman who is also a Shakespearian actor. The man can hardly speak recognizable syllables in any language, let alone recite English verse. Why hire him if the wolfish part of his role is all done in CGI? Because he is one of the producers. The other star of the film is Anthony Hopkins channeling once again the role of Professor Von Helsing from the aforementioned Coppola film. In this outing he has pushed all his acting tics to unbearable levels and has definitely taken Kate Hepburn's advice too much to heart when she told him "Don't act – just speak your lines" on the set of "The Lion in Winter". There is no acting here. Just monotonous drivel. The efforts of Hugo Weaving and Emily Blunt are totally wasted in this context.
The intelligence of any viewer willing to give this pabulum its chance is totally alienated in the first 20 minutes when he is asked to believe that the hero, after refusing Gwen's invitation to help seek his missing brother in England, leaves for America on a theatre tour and is then summoned back by a letter written by the same woman, thus making it at least four months between the brother's disappearance and the discovery of his body, given the transportation modes of 1891. We are also asked to believe that Talbot's giant castle is run by only one Indian servant.
The level of graphic violence in this film may be its only original element although I am not versed enough in sadistic mayhem at the movies to form a definite opinion. But it certainly was the first time for me seeing the actual contours of the various human organs ripped from a living human body. The London cityscapes are also very well done and would have been fun to watch in any other film. The best of these, showing a masked ball at the Crystal Palace, has been cut from the film and can only be seen in the DVD's deleted scenes, unfortunately.
More derivation: Danny Elfman was certainly the man to write music for this type of film. He unfortunately doesn't have a single original descending minor chord left in his arsenal and his score sounds like a rehash of many, many such outings (but especially Wojciech Kilar's themes for "Bram Stoker's Dracula") while dangerously bordering at times on that twilight zone where noise meets sound effects. The beginning and end titles look suspiciously like the ones for Mel Brooks' satirical "Dracula Dead and Loving It".
In short, one has to be a particular type of idiot not to be able to make something inspiring and scary from the raw material of foggy and shadowy English moors, decrepit castles and ancient legends about werewolves.
The film ends the only way it can: with a particularly gruesome WWE-type confrontation (although those are usually better scripted) followed by a recreation of the final scene from (you guessed it) "Bram Stoker's Dracula" and a just few added clichés for good measure.
P.S.: What was Max Von Sydow doing in an uncredited cameo as the man who leaves his cane to the hero? Could it be he didn't want his name associated with this film either?
Everything about this film is derivative. Its photography, rhythm, lighting, art direction and best effects are all imitated from F.F. Coppola's "Bram Stoker's Dracula" with the major exception that Coppola's film wasn't shot in this generic blue-green half-assed washed-out imitation of a two-strip Technicolor film, a yawn-inducing conceit borrowed from every other horror film produced in the last 10 years. It is high time that CGI technicians leave their mother's basement and learn once and for all what real sunlight looks like. The overall effect is as depressing as the overdone CGI landscapes in "Van Helsing", the very nadir of this kind of artificial entertainment. The only film this one is NOT derivative of, actually, is the original 1941 "The Wolfman" script by Curt Siodmak.
The film fails in logic in many ways. One of them is casting Benicio Del Toro not only as an Englishman but as an aristocratic Englishman who is also a Shakespearian actor. The man can hardly speak recognizable syllables in any language, let alone recite English verse. Why hire him if the wolfish part of his role is all done in CGI? Because he is one of the producers. The other star of the film is Anthony Hopkins channeling once again the role of Professor Von Helsing from the aforementioned Coppola film. In this outing he has pushed all his acting tics to unbearable levels and has definitely taken Kate Hepburn's advice too much to heart when she told him "Don't act – just speak your lines" on the set of "The Lion in Winter". There is no acting here. Just monotonous drivel. The efforts of Hugo Weaving and Emily Blunt are totally wasted in this context.
The intelligence of any viewer willing to give this pabulum its chance is totally alienated in the first 20 minutes when he is asked to believe that the hero, after refusing Gwen's invitation to help seek his missing brother in England, leaves for America on a theatre tour and is then summoned back by a letter written by the same woman, thus making it at least four months between the brother's disappearance and the discovery of his body, given the transportation modes of 1891. We are also asked to believe that Talbot's giant castle is run by only one Indian servant.
The level of graphic violence in this film may be its only original element although I am not versed enough in sadistic mayhem at the movies to form a definite opinion. But it certainly was the first time for me seeing the actual contours of the various human organs ripped from a living human body. The London cityscapes are also very well done and would have been fun to watch in any other film. The best of these, showing a masked ball at the Crystal Palace, has been cut from the film and can only be seen in the DVD's deleted scenes, unfortunately.
More derivation: Danny Elfman was certainly the man to write music for this type of film. He unfortunately doesn't have a single original descending minor chord left in his arsenal and his score sounds like a rehash of many, many such outings (but especially Wojciech Kilar's themes for "Bram Stoker's Dracula") while dangerously bordering at times on that twilight zone where noise meets sound effects. The beginning and end titles look suspiciously like the ones for Mel Brooks' satirical "Dracula Dead and Loving It".
In short, one has to be a particular type of idiot not to be able to make something inspiring and scary from the raw material of foggy and shadowy English moors, decrepit castles and ancient legends about werewolves.
The film ends the only way it can: with a particularly gruesome WWE-type confrontation (although those are usually better scripted) followed by a recreation of the final scene from (you guessed it) "Bram Stoker's Dracula" and a just few added clichés for good measure.
P.S.: What was Max Von Sydow doing in an uncredited cameo as the man who leaves his cane to the hero? Could it be he didn't want his name associated with this film either?