Gothic horror films like The Wolfman continue the tradition of exploring mankind’s inner struggle between good and evil, sin and redemption, the natural and the supernatural. From the cursed transformation of Laurence Talbot to the fatal choice faced by Gwen, the story mirrors timeless themes of guilt, sacrifice, and liberation from a fallen nature. Just as Dracula explores immortality apart from God and Frankenstein warns of a soulless creation, The Wolfman portrays a good man undone by forces beyond his control, raising questions of morality, love, and the hope of salvation that still resonate today.

Stories of the supernatural confront science and superstition, and find both lacking, but the latter usually has more self-protection than the former. The scientists in this story believe Laurence is delusional or suffering from multiple personalities, only to watch him transform into a beast during a full moon and get ripped apart. For all their psychology and medical knowledge, they are at the mercy of a curse they do not understand.

Meanwhile, the gypsies on the moors believe in the curse, use talismans to ward off evil (with varying degrees of success; the Wolfman rips through their camp), and condemn his action as the work of the devil. In their centuries of dealing with the inexplicable, there is only one solution they can propose to his hapless girlfriend, Gwen: if she loves him, she must free him from the curse. That means putting a silver bullet into his skull. Tragically for Laurence, there is no cure, no magical spell to put on him, and no way to force him not to transform. He will either need to be imprisoned for half of his life (around the full moon) or to die.

Science, Superstition, and the Limits of Human Knowledge

This isn’t the first story to deal with the duality of man; Robert Louis Stevenson explored the concept in his excellent The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. In that story, Jekyll believes that if he can isolate evil, he can control it. That he could remove evil from himself, and only do good. Once he successfully divides himself, he feels tempted to “indulge” his evil side more than his better nature. As Hyde, he can do and say whatever he wants… but the more he uses the serum to become Hyde, the less of Jekyll that remains. His evil nature consumes and eventually destroys him. Jekyll actively contributes to his own downfall.

Such is not the case with Laurence, a good man returned to the moors to investigate his brother’s disappearance and murder. He did not ask to get bitten by a Wolfman; it happened when he tried to protect a child. And his own actions horrify him and leave him wrought with guilt. He has no control over his transformation, no way to restrain himself, and knows he deserves death for his wanton destruction.

Gothic houses in literature and film all contain dark secrets, and this one is no exception. The Talbot household has hidden the truth from the world that Laurence’s father murdered his mother in his wolf state, and then concealed it as a suicide. His father is the same predatory monster who terrorizes the locals, murdered his brother, and has no remorse for his actions. Instead, he intentionally sets up Laurence to take the blame for his crimes. Bitten by a werewolf boy on one of his many trips around the world, when he discovered his “true nature,” rather than aggressively attempt to fight or control or constrain it, he gave himself over to it. He “embraces the beast” and allows his evil to go unchecked.

He is the Hyde to Laurence’s Jekyll. A sociopath without a conscience. Laurence does not want to become evil. He tries to restrain his crimes, warn others about his violent nature, send away Gwen so she will not be harmed, and take responsibility for his actions. But he can’t save himself from the curse. Gwen must put a bullet in him to end his suffering—in a tragic, bittersweet conclusion. She has rescued him from his torment, but at the cost of his life, for “the wages of sin is death.” But also, with death comes liberation; no longer will he be in a fallen, violent state, a victim to his baser nature. He is now free. In the few seconds before his death, he turns human again… long enough to thank her and fulfill the gypsy’s prediction that, having been slain by someone who loves him, he will find peace in the afterlife.

Her innocent love sets him free and rescues his soul.

Death is a release rather than a punishment.

Love, Sacrifice, and Redemption Through Death

This echoes a story told again and again, one C.S. Lewis calls the myth that came true. The idea we cannot save ourselves from our own sin, but someone must love us enough to rescue us from our fallen state through a sacrifice. Ergo, the belief in shedding blood as a price for sin. It started with altars and blood sacrifices and ended with an innocent man on a cross. Somewhere along the way, the message shifted from an angry god demanding blood or punishment into the idea that God split himself in two out of love for us so powerful, he would endure a horrible death to free us from the domination of sin.  

In the story, the message is that those who allow their evil to go unchecked are truly the evil ones; those without a choice, who wish to do good in spite of themselves, are heroic and tragic. Maybe this resonates with us because deep down, we each know that we have the potential to become a beast. Slowly. Piece by piece, choice by choice.

We also fear what we cannot understand. We know we possess a soul, but not what happens to it when it leaves our body. And we do not know what lies outside what we can see with our own eyes, which led us for centuries to fear supernatural forces “taking over our bodies” or forcing us to do things without self-control. Thus, the fear of witches, familiars, demons, werewolves, ghosts, and vampires.

Like Laurence, I can’t save myself from my baser nature, but I can turn to a Being who loves me enough to save me. By recognizing true love for what it is and in turning my life over to God, I “die” to self. It begins my transformation… not into a hideous beast, but into the being I am meant to be, who will indeed find peace in the afterlife, because I will no longer bear the scars of the beast within.

About the Author: Charity Bishop writes historical fiction, historical fantasy, and suspense novels that explores the darkness in human hearts, and the light that refuses to be extinguished. Discover her books.