Written and directed by Nathalie Biancheri
Starring George MacKay, Paddy Considine, Lily-Rose Depp
Rated R for Rabid
Runtime: 98 interminable minutes
In theaters December 3

by Gary M. Kramer, Staff Writer

The audacious, insufferable film, Wolf, opens with Jacob (George MacKay) naked in the woods, “being” the title animal. His concerned parents send him to a clinic, run by The Zookeeper (Paddy Considine), that is designed to help folks with “species dysphoria.” Using therapeutic exercises, these patients are meant to find their true selves, free themselves from their fantasies, and return to a “normal” life.

However, in the hands of writer/director Nathalie Biancheri, what could have been a thoughtful meditation about the perils of conversion therapy, is a risible drama that allows its cast to engage in extended role playing where they pretend to be animals. Wolf is like a parody of Yorgos Lanthimos’ The Lobster, where the people were turned into the animals they wanted to be. 

“I am Jeremy, and I am not a squirrel,” says Jeremy (Darragh Shannon), who then cries and pleads, “Let me be a squirrel!” Judith (Lola Petticrew) thinks she is a parrot and wears a beak and multicolored feather outfit—“prop privileges”—which might suggest these folks are all furries missing their cosplay costumes. When the characters are put on leashes, Wolf is bad. But when Jacob crawls through the clinic and climbs up on a counter to howl at the moon, it’s worse. Alas, when Rufus (Fionn O’Shea), who thinks he is a German Shepherd, pees on the carpet, the film hits its nadir. Actually, when The Zookeeper rubs Rufus’ face in the piss on the carpet, Wolf hits its nadir. 

There is a romance at the center of the film between Jacob and Wildcat (Lily-Rose Depp), but her story is a bit vague. She is—pardon the pun, cagey—about her time at the center. An intense sequence where the two of them sniff each other in a kind of foreplay is meant to be beautiful, or sexual, but it comes off as rather silly. 

Wolf makes its points about shock therapy as a cure for bad behavior with no subtlety. The best ideas in the film are those that get at the heart of what distinguishes man from animal—the fact that humans can laugh, and dance and have memories, emotions, and self-awareness. These are valid ideas, and although incorporated didactically, are fair enough but then Biancheri has the Zookeeper make a statement about a “superior race,” that just poisons things further. 

Another problem with the film is that it hard to care about Jacob, even when he claims he does not want to be a wolf. (It is like that joke: How many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb? Only one, but the bulb has got to really want to change.) The film does not show Jacob’s life before the clinic, so there is no investment for his goal to be more human because he seems happy as he is. He talks lovingly (as a wolf) about the smell of the forest and damp ground. He wants to be with Wildcat so they can run wild together. When he is told that his “howling” is Jacob “wanting to be heard,” it fails to explain what Jacob is trying to express. 

As Jacob, MacKay is all muscle, but no power or poignancy. (He is actually quite expressive when muzzled, as he is in scene late in the film). Biancheri films him shirtless almost the entire time, allowing viewers to admire his chiseled torso. MacKay expresses most of his character through his cold stares and fluid body language. It is easy to see the appeal of the role, but this is an acting exercise pretending to be a performance. 

Wolf is all metaphor and no meaning. It deserves to be put down for being bad.