In the face of this why-did-they-bother update of the original 1941 "Wolfman" that stared Lon Cheney Jr. as the monster, John Landis's 1981 film "An American Werewolf In London" still retains its title as the best werewolf movie ever made. Joe Johnson, the director of such underwhelming children's fair as "Jumanji" and "Hidalgo," proves himself incapable of handling horror. With a script that updates the 1941 version inasmuch as it casts the wolfman's father Sir John Talbot (played by Anthony Hopkins) in a villainous light, the filmmakers struggle for any sense of rhythm, timing, romance, humor or symbolic meaning. Benicio del Toro is more misdirected than miscast as Lawrence Talbot, who returns to his father's mansion in Blackmoor, England–circa 1891–after his brother Ben is killed by a werewolf. Still, del Toro's utter lack of chemistry with Emily Blunt as Gwen Conliffe–Ben's former fiancée–further inhibits the film's ability to connect on the primal amorous level essential to the werewolf story. Hugo Weaving brings some welcome credibility as Scotland Yard Inspector Abberline, who arrives in Blackmoor to investigate the brutal attacks that plague the area. But even Weaving's best efforts are squandered in an ill-written role that paints Abberline as more of a mystified witness than an active participant in a mystery with no twist.
Rated R. 102 mins. (C-) (Two Stars)
