Those things do happen in Wolf Man, but not at all in the way viewers expect. Whannell keeps his camera largely still until the end of the first act, the first bit of bravado occurring when the family tries to escape their moving truck, overturned by the creature’s attack. And yes, Wolf Man has an impressive transformation sequence, the highlight of every werewolf movie going back to the overlapping dissolves on Lon Chaney Jr.’s face in 1941’s The Wolf Man.

Instead of a single sequence, the transformation happens slowly in Wolf Man with Blake changing a little bit at a time over the film’s second act. Make no mistake, the practical effects impress just as much as the great Jack Pierce makeup in 1941 or Rick Baker’s work in 1981’s An American Werewolf in London. But Wolf Man takes the time to keep focused on the loss of the man instead of just celebrating the coming of the wolf.

Abbott uses his natural puppy-dog eyes to convey Blake’s loss of self as his body changes, his sharp teeth and extended jaw robbing him of the ability to speak. Whannell’s most impressive camera moves come when he swings it around from Charlotte, talking to her husband in recognizable English, to Blake, hearing her voice as muffled gibberish but seeing her with heightened lights and colors.

As these moves suggest, the horror of Wolf Man comes first in the loss of communication and connection within a family unit. The opening scenes establish Blake as a caring father, a man desperate to avoid the mistakes of his own dad, and he and Charlotte as both sad about the spark they’ve lost. The family wants to come together and find new ways of connecting, and Blake’s transformation steals forever that possibility.

For some viewers, the emphasis on tragedy will disappoint. Although Whannell proves as adept as ever with blocking and composition, tension comes second to character work. And while Whannell got his start as a writer, co-creating the Saw and Insidious universes with fellow Aussie James Wan, dialogue was never his strong suit. Not even an assist from co-writer Corbett Tuck can prevent Whannell from having the characters occasionally declare their feelings or the movie’s themes, as when Charlotte just looks at the camera and says she has trouble connecting with her daughter.

For that reason, stripping Blake of his speech abilities helps the movie overall, as it gives Abbott, Garner, and Firth space to communicate through facial expressions and body language. Blake looks increasingly helpless the more lupine he becomes while Garner lets Charlotte slump in defeat and desperation, even as she needs to be strong for her daughter.