I guess there’s really nothing wrong with “The Wolfman” other than an utter lack of originality. However, one senses it’s one of those horror films meant as a retro tribute to those old white-knuckle flicks of the ’30s and ’40s—updated, of course, with a healthy quota of CG-enhanced action and violence.

The film is 100 percent shockschlock, and if you’ve seen Lon Chaney Jr.’s original “The Wolf Man” (1941), you pretty much know the story. Director Joe Johnson has produced a by-thenumbers remake, starring Benicio del Toro as young Lawrence Talbot, Anthony Hopkins as the elder Talbot (dysfunctional, to say the least) and Emily Blunt as the frustratingly naive Gwen.

Gypsies are involved, of course, as is an age-old curse that dooms one who’s been bitten by a werewolf to transmogrify into a manic, howling, flesh-hungry beast when the moon is full.

In “The Wolfman” the moon is full quite often, and our doomed protagonist snacks on more than a few of the frightened villagers. My problem, I suppose (as I never fully engaged in the flick), is that “The Wolfman” relies on too many silly ploys in retelling this gothic mainstay.

Quite often, the music builds to a resounding crescendo to indicate—well, absolutely nothing. A false alarm. Wait two seconds, however, and—crunch!—another headless villager. There are so many false alarms and sudden starts—those faux, fabricated “Gotcha!” moments, that one’s true sense of emotion is in shatters by the film’s conclusion.

My other complaint is in dear sweet Gwen’s reluctance, when the time is right, to end the horror, swooning or hesitating or blocking the authorities from popping the foul beast with one of those magical silver bullets. Yes, I know Gwen is simply being the Gwen she was back in the day, when women were supposed to swoon and hesitate and fall in love with doomed, humorless men— for reasons that remain entirely confounding to me.

I suppose for fans of old-style, traditional horror tales, unbothered by a startling rush of 21st century pizzazz and bloodletting (and believe me, the blood does let), “The Wolfman” may prove worth your time. If newer age horrors are more to your liking (Dr. Lecter, Jigsaw, paranormal activities, the economy), perhaps “The Wolfman” isn’t quite your particular thrill ride.

If this one sounds like the replacement gig for “Harry Potter & the Warlocks,” well, that’s probably what more than a few studio execs are hoping. There’s a fine line between magic and mythology in Hollywood. And with Harry Potter firmly in control of the magical realm (and an ominous cloud of box-office dread gathering in anticipation of Potter’s retirement next year), mythology’s suddenly ripe for exploration/exploitation.

Sudden hot property Sam Worthington stars in the remake of “Clash of the Titans,” coming out shortly, and I expect we’ll see several more CG-laden efforts before the trend tapers off. Superheroes, time to take a breather.

Actually, “Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief” is a pretty good effort for the 12- to 18-year-old demographic. It’s action-packed in all the right places, although probably too tame and predictable for most older filmgoers.

I suppose if one can believe that Greek gods still threaten to do battle over Earth from Mount Olympus (and not, y’know, “Transformers” from the planet Cyberton), well, everything else just sort of falls into place.

Logan Lerman plays Percy, a modern-day loner who’s oblivious to the fact that he’s the son of Greek god Poseidon and a human mother. Poseidon and his brother Zeus are bickering over who might have stolen Zeus’ thunderbolt (and, okay, it sounds more plausible when you’re watching the flick), and somehow Percy seems to be the likely culprit.

He’s not, of course, but must prove his innocence through a series of quests. Along the way Percy and pals battle mythical demons (Uma Thurman turns up as the snake-thatched Medusa) and discover the real thief.

Thankfully, the dialogue’s not nearly as hokey as it could have been; the cast (including Catherine Keener and a four-legged Pierce Brosnan) is pleasantly presentable, and the SFX are frequent and better than average. If box office receipts hold up, I sense a sequel. To date there are five Percy Jackson YA novels written by Rick Riordan.

Expect a savage struggle, fellow film-lovers, to fill Potter’s void . . . and Harry’s throne isn’t even cold. This could get ugly.