Jacob (George MacKay) is a young man that, due to species dysmorphia, believes he is a wolf.  His parents send him to a specialized institution to teach him how to behave as a human again.  Once there, he forms a close bond with Wildcat (Lily-Rose Depp) as the two navigate through their treatment led by a tough doctor referred to as The Zookeeper (Paddy Considine). 

Wolf was written and directed by Nathalie Biancheri.  The high-concept drama teeters on the edge of psychological horror, and while it operates well in that field, it opens itself up for criticism and examination of the central allegory which, for all of its strength in the technical departments, there are points where the script seems underwritten not only as a metaphor but also in some basic aspects of plotting.  Much of this feeling can be overlooked, however, depending on how quickly one accepts the concept, but Wolf does not allow much time for onboarding for its audience as it wastes little time before introducing its menagerie.  

At the center of the film is Jacob, and MacKay portrays the young man in an incredibly nuanced and physical performance.  The script places a lot of heavy lifting on the entire cast’s shoulders, but this is especially true for MacKay who is our entry point into the institutionalized world of the film.  He brings a vulnerability to the role which allows us to connect to his troubles and sympathize almost immediately while we start learning more about his species dysmorphia.  Jacob is largely silent in Wolf, and when he is required to be a human, he remains quite still.  But when the sun goes down and he embraces his true self, the transformation is nothing short of remarkable to see how this young actor molds himself into the canine shape he believes himself to be.  As he stalks through the moonlit halls, his muscles move and ripple in an animalistic way and while he always retains his human shape, there are many instances throughout where the lines become blurred through the craftsmanship of Michal Dymek’s cinematography and MacKay’s commitment to the role and his skill as a performer. 

Wolf lives and dies on two things, the acceptance and empathy of the audience and the commitment of the actors to the premise.  Across the board, all the actors do an amazing job at really selling this idea.  Besides Jacob, Rufus (Fionn O’Shea) – who is a German Shepherd – has one of the larger burdens to carry for the success of the film.  His performance is bounding with energy as the eager to please boy who enthusiastically embraces each and every bit of his treatment and therapy.  His exuberance is frightening at first, but quickly he manages to make us feel hopeful and protective of him.  His is not the showiest performance of the bunch, that honor goes to a Parrot (Lola Petticrew) in a vibrant feathered cloak and mask.  She is much pricklier than Rufus, but in time we come to see her side of things, as well. Among the rest are a young ducking (Senan Jennings), a skittery squirrel (Darragh Shannon), a panda (Karise Yansen), and a horse (Elsa Fionuir). 

They are all wards of the hospital under the care of The Zookeeper.  Considine’s role is the final hurdle for the film as the almost comical villain.  His tough-love approach to treatment would be an easy paycheck for even the greenest of medical malpractice lawyers as he forces his patients into situations where their physical bodies must betray their mental states.  The only one unaffected by his philosophies is Depp’s tenderly played Wildcat, shielded from his abuse by one of the other counselors (Eileen Walsh).  It is in the staff that the script’s sparse plotting leaves almost too much unsaid.  The ambiguity mostly works, but adding some clarity to their dynamics could help cement their roles in the facility, and also add a little more context to make them feel less “othered” by the script.   

The true fault of the script, as previously mentioned, is that it is simply unable to withstand any investigation of metaphor and allegory so that while Wolf works rather well on a plot level, the messaging gets incredibly murky at times.  The obvious parallels come into play early on: conversion therapy, identity politics, not to mention actual conversations on species dysmorphia.  Biancheri clearly directed her cast with a sensitivity of the subject as evidenced in the care they each have for their characters, so any ill reading of the film does not come from a place of prejudice, but unfortunately for Biancheri, the artist’s intentions mean next to nothing in the court of public opinion.  Over the course of the film, there are some troubling implications on these social topics that Biancheri’s script is just not strong enough to solidify the positioning of her vision and ideals which, understandably, can leave behind a sour taste for many. 

Looking past that, however, on a technical level, Wolf is a work of wonder.  Dymek’s cinematography does more than just highlight MacKay’s performance but elevates this b-movie concept into the realm of real artistry.  The contrast of day and night – what is seen and what is hidden – is a driving motif for the film and the lighting is integral to its effectiveness in communicating that with the audience.  Expertly lit throughout, Dymek creates some truly striking visuals with a deliberately chosen green light that becomes even harsher on MacKay as he is forced into conformity which turns his otherwise Adonis-like physique into something gross and reviled making us feel as uncomfortable seeing him as Jacob feels existing in that same body.  The visual work is in tandem with Stefan Wesolowski’s screeching score that makes Wolf one of the most organically upsetting films to watch in 2021. 

Despite its troubles, Wolf is a film infused with as much artistic merit as any of the other auteur releases seen this year.  Grossly under platformed by Focus Features, it is not the easiest film to watch, but it is not so niche that it is inaccessible to the audience.  It is not a challenge to understand like some other puzzle box stories, but it is such a high concept of which Biancheri and everyone working on the film are so unapologetically committed to that it can be abrasive to witness.  Even without being on the film’s wavelength, it would be impossible to just passively watch and not find moments to recoil in your seat which makes Wolf a film that is impossible to recommend lightly, but one that can be incredibly rewarding to those who find the courage withing themselves to venture into its world.