Depressed and aging editor Will Randall (Jack Nicholson) is bitten by a wolf on a snowy Vermont road. Returning to the office, he finds himself demoted by wealthy publisher Raymond Alden (Christopher Plummer), and replaced by his traitorous protégé, Stewart Swinton (James Spader). But Randall starts to feel powerful, aggressive, and in control. He also starts a relationship with Alden’s daughter, Laura (Michelle Pfeiffer).
Wolf feels like three films merged into an uneven, but satisfying whole. The first section, a comedy-drama about a weak man being crushed, and then taking it all back—and more—by the power of his wolf, is the most successful. We’re in metaphor territory here, with the werewolf representing reclaimed masculinity. Want to be happy in the modern world? Find you inner beast. It’s no coincidence that the popularity of men’s groups, with suburban males in the forest beating drums, was at its height when Wolf was released. This is no criticism. There are real issues that need to be addressed, but it’s hard to take anything seriously when stated by an accountant pretending he’s a tribal hunter. But set in a comical tale of werewolves in the corporate world, it’s easy to listen to the concerns. Humor is the key. Wolf simultaneously takes a swipe at corporate life; an easy target, but that doesn’t stop it from being an effective satire.
Part two brings us unnecessary explanations (why must monster movies always have an expository old person?), an unlikely romance between Randall and Laura Alden, and Randall’s fear of the consequences of his bestial nature. None of it’s bad, but neither is it compelling. With almost no humor, we’re expected to take it all seriously, and that’s hard to do. Not the werewolf bit, that’s comparably believable, but rather that the beautiful and youthful Laura would hang out with Randall; that’s what’s too much to swallow. When it is suggested she’s with him only for the opportunity to act out and upset her father, it is plausible. But when we’re handed this relationship as deep and true love that’s developed in a few days between an aging man showing signs of psychosis, and a bratty, hot babe who is emotionally closed, it doesn’t gel. Randall’s guilt and uncertainty is more reasonable, but not much fun to watch.
The third section gets things moving again as the themes are dropped in favor of action. It’s monster mash time. The comedy is back, along with some blood, punches, and a few minimal special effects. It’s good, mindless fun.
Nicholson, controlled by director Mike Nichols, manages the broken old man with only the slightest step into parody. His transition to energized wolf-man is a joy to behold and is Nicholson doing Nicholson, but better.
Pfeiffer makes a good damsel in distress without being weak. I can’t say that I ever felt her character fit the picture, but she’s beautiful enough that I didn’t mind.
However, it’s James Spader (Stargate, Crash) that brings a sparkle to Wolf. I’m not sure if Spader can play an average guy, but he has down bizarre. With his “I’m so charming I must be stabbing you in the back” smile, he projects an image of someone who isn’t quite right. So, when we find out that things are deeply wrong with him, it all makes sense. Spader has perfect comic timing, and I found myself laughing with him, hating him, and yet cheering for him, just a little.
I like the understated werewolf makeup. It reminds me of Werewolf of London where the “monsters” could almost pass as human. It’s a good look that any talented makeup artist should be able to do on the cheap. Why Rick Baker, the top man in his field and undoubtedly not cheap, was hired is beyond me. If you are looking for the sort of wild effects Baker is known for, you’ll be disappointed. But werewolf films should be about more than hulking beasts, and there’s a lot to enjoy in Wolf .