WOLF KING: The Beast Is in Each of Us [REVIEW]

It might seem that the era of vampires and werewolves in cinema has long passed. The topic has been exploited too often in feature films. However, in animation, not quite. Wolf King from Netflix attempts to draw viewers’ attention to the idea that the theme of human shapeshifting can still be interesting, even though vampires are no longer capable of scaring or surprising anyone. But can Wolf King turn out to be a unique animation that audiences will remember? I’m afraid not. The quality of the series is not the issue here. Nor is its unique visual style. The problem lies in the story itself. It lacks the courage needed to tell a werewolf tale in a way that would capture and hold the audience’s attention. At least, it didn’t hold mine, though I do appreciate the visual quality.

Wolf King follows a very classic cinematic (including animated) storyline about a young boy from the lower social strata who suddenly discovers a hidden power within himself. His family, of course, knows about it. Yet, as is often the case in such stories, the initiation happens unexpectedly. To make matters worse, his mother dies, and he is accused of her murder by his family and tribe. Thus begins a journey of self-discovery—among humans, but in the form of both man and wolf. A creature burdened with immense cultural fear, mythologized and hunted, inspiring terror but also secret admiration. The entire series is built upon this path of the protagonist coming to terms with who he is and who he can never be again, having been touched by the “hunter’s moon.” Each episode marks another stage in this journey, introducing new characters and gradually shaping the antagonist, whose confrontation seems inevitable.

But what is so innovative here that would elevate this production above others? The characters are rather generic. The plot—such as the mother’s death and the suspicion cast upon the protagonist—feels frustratingly clichéd. It’s hard to believe that, knowing the protagonist’s past, those around him could be so blind and instantly hostile. Perhaps this is a problem with the script. I can’t say how the characters were originally written in Curtis Jobling’s novels. However, I do know that the series did absolutely nothing to encourage me to seek out the original texts.

And yet, I would still recommend the series, primarily because of its visually unique style, rare in contemporary animation. Though the animation itself is not the smoothest, it has a painterly quality. Sometimes, the backgrounds lack detail or moving elements, but the interplay of light and shadow more than compensates for this. Some scenes are so visually striking that one could gaze at them for a long time without growing tired of their cohesive color palette. They resemble meticulously drawn paintings set in motion by skilled animators. They stimulate the imagination, inviting viewers to fill in the missing details of the depicted world.

However, these visuals cannot make up for the repetitive narrative motifs, which is why Wolf King will likely not be remembered as a title that stood the test of time. It will fade among countless other animations about monsters who, in the end, are not as terrifying as the ones in human form. This familiar metaphor is repeated in Wolf King so many times that it may be its greatest educational value—though from a cinematic axiological perspective, it is utterly overused. In this regard, the series fails, as it brings nothing new to the table, despite having the potential to do so.

I do hope, however, that you will form your own opinion—and perhaps even answer the question of where the protagonist truly belongs: with animals or with humans. Or maybe that’s a false dilemma altogether?