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To any of my middle-aged readers: If you want to feel your age, attempt to sit through a double feature at the movies, with the second movie of the night being a late show for a movie that’s about 2½ hours and that begins at 10:15. That’s what I did, and I was worn out. But even though I was pooped by the end of the night, with nothing but a small popcorn to sustain me ($1 popcorn on Tuesdays!), I don’t think my opinion of the movies was colored by my tiredness, and I shall offer, as always, my honest opinion.
First up is The Wolfman, a remake of the 1941 original, which is forever a classic in the old-time Universal Studios movie monster pantheon. Actor Lawrence Talbot (Benicio del Toro) arrives at his father’s English estate in the wake of his brother’s disappearance. Once there, dear old dad, Sir John Talbot (Anthony Hopkins), tells Lawrence his brother’s body was found nearby the previous day. Vowing to remain in the vicinity until the mystery surrounding his brother’s demise is solved, Talbot mounts his own investigation, dividing his time between glowering at locals, wandering the gloomy halls of Sir John’s mouldering estate, and exchanging pleasantries and skipping stones with his brother’s fiance, Gwen (Emily Blunt).
Talbot enters a gypsy camp one foggy night – this movie corners the market on fog – and while there a barely glimpsed beastie begins rampaging through the camp, ripping apart gypsies hither and yon. During the melee Talbot receives a thrashing, with a nasty bite wound to the shoulder. If you know anything about werewolves you know this is going to be bad news for Mr. Talbot. By the next full moon he’s sprouting hair, fangs and claws, and barreling around the terrified village on all fours -- and howling in torment at the moon, of course.
Complications ensue with the arrival of Inspector Abiline (Hugo Weaving, who appeared to be channeling his Mr. Smith character from The Matrix movies) and the carting off of Lawrence to an insane asylum, where he is subjected to torture in the wake of murders his hairier alter ego committed. Needless to say, he doesn’t stay contained for long.
I found The Wolfman mostly hokey, laughing at times when I was probably supposed to be holding my breath with tension. The story was mostly the same as the original, with a couple of twists that I appreciated. The atmosphere was very reminiscent of the old Universal horror movies of the 1930s and 40s, but overall the movie was fairly plodding. I never really cared about Lawrence. Benicio del Toro’s gloomy visage coupled with the character’s overall sense of doom didn’t provide someone I could root for or feel sorry for. The filmmakers were trying for a very somber tone, and they certainly did achieve that, to the point that I found the movie more somber than involving.
The werewolf transformation scenes and makeup, by Oscar-winning makeup artist Rick Baker, were cool. Anthony Hopkins was good, as usual, as Sir John. There were some scary moments, both cheap “sudden jarring noise” jolts along with “don’t go in there” creeps. But overall, I found The Wolfman only average.
From foggy olde England to stormy New England, Shutter Island is the latest Martin Scorsese/Leonardo DiCaprio collaboration. Leo appears to have taken over for Robert DeNiro in regard to being Scorsese’s go-to guy. This is their fourth movie together, after The Aviator, Gangs of New York and The Departed. It’s a partnership I’ve been enjoying for the most part, because I really liked some of these movies. Shutter Island, unfortunately, isn’t one of my faves (Gangs and Departed are the two I like best).
It’s 1954, and Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) and Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo) are two detectives who arrive by boat to Shutter Island, home to Ashecliffe Hospital, a facility for the criminally insane. They’re there to investigate the disappearance of a murderess that seems to have vanished into thin air. DiCaprio soon determines that a cover up is in place, perhaps one that involves a combination of illegal experimentation, the CIA and ex Nazi scientists (hello, Max von Sydow). Teddy, in addition to being plagued by disturbing dreams of his dead wife, and terrifying visions and memories of when he was one of the soldiers who liberated the Dachau concentration camp, swears to get to the bottom of the missing murderess, but at the same time it turns out he has a personal interest in another of Ashecliffe’s occupants. Things get pretty twisty and turny, and an increasing sense of paranoia begins to transform the detective into a bit of a nut job himself, one who suspects everyone is hiding something. Daniels is so wound up DiCaprio plays the role with a permanently furrowed brow.
I consider myself a big Scorsese fan, but Shutter Island never really grabbed me. It was interesting, and I wasn’t exactly bored, but I also did find myself wondering how much longer it had to go until it was over. That’s the kiss of death for a movie to me, when I’m thinking, “Isn’t this over yet?” The performances were all good, especially Ben Kingsley as the hospital’s head honcho, and there are certainly some tense moments, but I found the film overall to be a cold, distant movie that didn’t involve me as much as I would have liked. It was really pretty short on thrills and excitement. Much like The Wolfman, it maintained a lingering sense of foreboding and doom, but in the process distanced itself from me in the process.
I don’t want to give away too many plot points because there are revelations to be had in the movie. There are many surrealistic moments, as well -- the type where you’re not sure what’s real and what isn’t. Some are more interesting than others. I don’t generally mind movies like that, as long as the mystical aspect isn’t lathered on too thickly to the point that the movie, to me anyway, becomes nonsensical. I think, for instance, that David Lynch, a director I admire and who has made some movies that I love (The Elephant Man, Blue Velvet), will sometimes think, “Now I’m really going to screw with the audience,” and makes a movie such as Lost Highway that is incomprehensible. And in that vein, even now, a few days after I’ve seen Shutter Island, I find myself muddled when I think back to certain scenes and am not sure whether or not they actually occurred anywhere other than in Teddy Daniel’s mind.
Like I said, it was a late night and I was tired. Maybe I dozed off and missed a crucial plot point. I don’t think so, though, and for now I’ll content myself with saying Shutter Island, like The Wolfman, was only so-so.
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