Most of Universal Studios' classic horror films come from literature: Dracula, Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein, The Invisible Man, and The Phantom of the Opera were all novels. One exception is The Wolf Man. That movie, and the modern werewolf myth it created, comes not from an author of gothic fiction, but from a salaried screenwriter on the Universal lot: Curt Siodmak.

The Man

Siodmak was born in Germany, and had written several novels and screenplays before fleeing the Nazi regime in 1937. At Universal, he wrote around a dozen forgettable movies. His one involvement in the studio's horror cycle was co-writing The Invisible Man Returns, which did well at the box office.

After the success of the first wave of horror movies, Universal essentially handed Siodmak a title and told him to come up with a monster that could launch a profitable franchise. He researched the folklore not only of werewolves but also other shape-shifting monsters, and even vampires, to create a mythology for werewolves that is still used—or intentionally subverted—to this day.

The Myth

Siodmak stole a few ideas from vampire mythology. One was the concept that a werewolf can spread the curse to a victim by biting them. This is nowhere in folklore; most werewolves of European legend supposedly wanted to change shape, by putting on a "magic" salve or drinking rainwater from a wolf's footprint. The other idea taken from vampiric myth is the susceptibility to silver. Most folklore predates gunpowder, so Siodmak does get full credit for introducing the concept of silver bullets. Despite being mentioned in the film, it's actually a silver-tipped cane that kills the Wolf Man.

Perhaps the most famous piece of dialogue in the movie is this poem, recited by several characters:

Even a man who is pure at heart and says his prayers by night

May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.

Many filmgoers believed the poem was genuine, but Siodmak made the whole thing up. It doesn't even quite make sense; "when the wolfbane blooms" sounds romantic, but why would wolves be attracted to a poisonous plant that has been used to hunt their species since Ancient Greece?

And notice the two requirements for transformation: Blooming wolfbane (which happens most of the year) and a bright autumn moon. Not a full moon. Not a "bright" moon in spring. You may be surprised to learn that the moon plays no part in the film. After Lawrence Talbot is bitten by a werewolf, he turns into the Wolf Man the very next night. And the night after that. It's possible those days correspond to a full moon, but it's not confirmed visually or by dialogue.

It's only the monster's next appearance, in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, that firmly sets the idea that a werewolf only changes during a full moon. For that movie and the sequels, the final words of the poem are changed to "when the moon is full and bright." This turns the transformation into a curse, something that can't be controlled; imagine how differently we would perceive the character if he could "monster out" at will.

The Monster

Siodmak added another intriguing element to the Wolf Man: He sees the sign of the pentagram on the person he will kill next. Brian Eggert of Deep Focus Review believes that this is a reference to the Nazis, who made Jews, their future victims, wear a star. (The film, don't forget, came out in 1941). True or not, these visions certainly add pathos to the monster, who has no power over when he turns into a beast or whom his next victim will be. When Talbot sees the sign on the hand of Gwen, the woman he's courting, he runs away and has his father lock him up for the night. But he escapes, attacks Gwen as foretold, and is only stopped by his father, who uses the silver-tipped cane to unknowingly beat his own son to death. It's heavy stuff for what many consider a silly, outdated movie.

Throughout the story, Talbot's father and girlfriend wonder if he's imagining the whole thing. It's eye-opening to flip the film around and examine it from this perspective. Perhaps Talbot is a sleep-walker, or has suppressed murderous tendencies, or a split personality. He visits a gypsy fortune-teller, who tells him he's a werewolf (since he was bitten by a wolf), and he believes it. His first victim is a gravedigger and is killed with no witnesses. No one but the gypsy woman calls him a wolf. In the final confrontation, could Talbot's father simply be trying to stop his deranged son from hurting Gwen? Does he see a werewolf at all?

That may be Curt Siodmak's most important contribution to the myth of the werwolf. None of us is immortal like Dracula, or brought back from the dead like Frankenstein's creature, or a mad genius like the Invisible Man. But we all possess anger and fear, and would probably do horrible things if we gave in to those feelings. Siodmak showed us that the most terrifying evil isn't the monster lurking in the shadows; it's the one inside us, looking for any excuse to escape.