The Wolfman is that present underneath your baubled Christmas tree that you’ve rattled and felt up until it’s practically indecent. But when the day finally comes, that tantalizingly laptop-shaped box is, in fact, a new edition Britannica Encyclopedia. However good this film looks, it is, nonetheless, a huge wet-weekend of a disappointment.

You only have to take one look at the brooding square-shouldered figure of Benecio del Toro for a werewolf transformation to seem like the next logical step in a movie climate beset by creepy creatures of the supernatural order. He plays Lawrence Talbot who returns to his estranged father in order to search for his missing brother. But as the mist reaches suffocating proportions it turns out that the cause of his brother’s disappearance is the stuff of guide camp’s ghost stories: the werewolf. What’s even more inconvenient is that Lawrence gets a bit too close and personal with the beast and acquires the curse himself.

Yes, it’s well acted but with a cast of Del Toro, Hopkins and Emily Blunt, that can’t come as a surprise to anyone. Despite their best efforts this damp squib of a script prevents them from developing truly convincing characters that we might, y’know, care about a little bit. And what would a hearty werewolf tale be without a bit of romancing between the protagonist and his brother’s wife? Del Toro and Blunt tick the checklist of smouldering looks and frustrated desire but it’s all as standardized as a violent, blood-spraying gorefest in a Tarantino film.

The special effects are impressive and the whole thing looks good. Unfortunately, irrespective of the amount of blood splashed about, it simply can’t safely drown the lack of genuine suspense. The plot feels like a done deal from the start, so hold on to the blithely entertaining scenes of werewolf transformation at the start to get your money’s worth. The pacing is choppy in a way that gives you mild travel sickness as the film veers wildly from fast action sequence to slow-burning mood build-up. No pervasive atmosphere comes through; the quality of the cake is in far more than the icing.

The Wolfman reminds me of a poorly prepared meal with undeniably good elements. One such promising ingredient is when Benecio is strapped down in front of an audience of non-believers who quickly see the error of their doubtful ways when he sprouts more than the manly stipulation of body hair. Yet even this doesn’t fill the cavern left by cardboard cut-out characters and a plot with as much mystery as a Jackie Collins novel.