hile driving back from Vermont on a snowy road late at night, William Randall (Jack Nicholson) hits a large black wolf. The poor creature appears lifeless, but when Will attempts to drag it from the path (a curiously unnecessary action, since it doesn’t block his car), it bites him and runs off into the woods. The event doesn’t interfere much with his regular schedule, however, as the following day he’s back to worrying about his career as the senior editor at a publishing house that is currently undergoing a consternating takeover by media billionaire Raymond Alden (Christopher Plummer).

“Are you sick?” A rabies shot is supposed to be the end of it, considering that Randall and his wife Charlotte Skylar (Kate Nelligan) attend a lavish dinner at Alden’s sprawling mansion in the evening, which gives him something far more significant to focus on: after 30 years in the business, Raymond unceremoniously replaces the longtime editor-in-chief, suggesting that he give Eastern Europe a shot, as it’s supposed to be promising. But it’s a demotion to a position that nobody wants – or no job at all. Nevertheless, the abrupt firing presents him with a chance encounter with Alden’s rebellious daughter Laura (Michelle Pfeiffer), whose suspiciously flirtatious behavior just might lead to an intriguing development. “You’re perfectly safe. I’m married.”

With a hint of body horror, Will’s wound grows hair, while his sense of smell becomes amplified and his eyesight and hearing improve. Like in 1986’s “The Fly” (or, in a lesser but recognizable way, “Robocop”), the initial side effects of the ominous incident and transformation are positive; he feels 20 years younger and full of life. And these unexpected windfalls are certain to be utilized against rivals and enemies, like the sneaky Stewart Swinton (James Spader), who took Will’s title, and even Charlotte, who hasn’t been completely honest with her husband. He’s a new man of sorts, not immediately cursed with involuntary losses of control, but blessed with a fresh vitality and a burning desire for revenge.

Unfortunately, despite a superb setup, which twists around the classic elements of the werewolf legend, it’s not long before exaggerated movements – such as leaping up a staircase on all fours or lunging from windows in a fake animalistic manner – enter the frame, which spoil the heightened sense of realism from the sets and settings and the A-list acting. The script takes its time to establish the characters (there’s a good bit of humor in it, too), particularly as Will and Laura make small talk, but the foreshadowing is obvious; a fantasy-like romance is doomed when it comes to the tragedy of lycanthropy. Interestingly, Nicholson’s wolf-man possesses a welcome sympathetic quality, hinting at what made 1941’s classic Universal production such an influential entity. The humanity is the persona’s greatest strength, especially when it evaporates in the moments of instinctual violence.

“You should be visiting a shaman, who can tell you the rules.” For a supernatural thriller, “Wolf” exhibits a distinct slowness, which is disappointing considering that the mystery of Randall’s condition isn’t at all mysterious. Yet there’s still an alluring element to the incredulity, the superstitions, and the ways in which the emerging beast disrupts lives. The opportunity for thrills actually regularly gives way to drama; Ennio Morricone’s score is understated and inquisitive, while Rick Baker’s special makeup effects remain minimal and subdued. Even when attacks occur, they’re not over-the-top and bloodthirsty; a touch of editing manipulation, shadows, and off-screen dismemberment take the place of embellished gore. Nearly every component, from brutality to sexuality to language, is almost too tame to be impactful.

“The worst things happen to the best people.” As the love story remains prominent, with the inevitable authority figure – homicide department Detective Sergeant Carl Bridger (Richard Jenkins) of the NYPD – closing in on who might be responsible for a string of murders, threatening to destroy the fairy-tale romance, the plot begins to resemble that of a jilted lover suspecting a partner of betrayal (or a much darker secret). “Wolf” is ultimately a character study, with the subject matter of werewolfism approached from a conservative, realistic angle, dwelling on how people around the accursed might cope with outrageous behaviors. But as it approaches the climax, it opts for a few ridiculous developments that aim to exploit standard werewolf movie tropes rather than the newness of what director Mike Nichols established at the start. In the end (which is weirdly satisfying), though the performances are memorable, it’s the parts that don’t work (including unintentionally funny moments) that outdo the more effective ones.

– Mike Massie