Is our humanity something we’re born with, encoded in our DNA? Or is it something we acquire. Taught to us through civilization, education, and experience? That question sits at the heart of David Verbeek’s latest film, The Wolf, The Fox, and The Leopard, a years-in-the-making epic that overflows with themes and genres, resisting any easy classification. And yet, within all that chaos, Verbeek manages to carve out a film that feels remarkably minimalist and deeply profound. At its core, it wrestles with the oldest question of all: What makes us human?
A young woman (Jessica Reynolds) is discovered deep in the remote wilderness, having lived her entire life in the wild, raised by wolves. Untamed and unfamiliar with human society, she is brought back by a group of scientists who begin the delicate process of reintroducing her to the so-called civilized world. As she struggles to adapt to human norms and expectations, she eventually falls under the care of a group of doomsday preppers. Survivalists who are convinced that an imminent climate catastrophe will soon reshape the world as we know it.
With The Wolf, The Fox, and The Leopard, David Verbeek undertakes the ambitious task of weaving together a wide array of themes, climate change, our increasing disconnection from nature, and the existential question of what it means to be human, while simultaneously playing within the bounds of science fiction, fantasy, and grounded drama. It’s a bold blend, and one that could easily collapse under its own weight. Yet Verbeek manages to strike a delicate balance. Rather than letting the film be swallowed by its scope, he grounds the narrative in the intimate perspective of a single character, a young woman slowly losing her bond with the natural world in her attempt to integrate into human society.
By telling the story through this focused lens, Verbeek allows his larger themes to unfold organically, emerging through character rather than didactic exposition. Structured in three distinct chapters, bookended by a prologue and an epilogue, the film invites its audience not just to observe, but to reflect. It doesn’t offer easy answers. Instead, The Wolf, The Fox, and The Leopard challenges viewers to sit with the uncomfortable, timeless question at its core: in an ever-changing world, what does it truly mean to be human?
At the heart of the film is Jessica Reynolds’ performance. It’s transformative, physical, raw, and undeniably brave. For the first 30 minutes or so, she’s completely feral, galloping naked on all fours through the forest, grunting, howling, and reacting instinctively to every animal she encounters. It’s a primal, animalistic performance that demands total commitment. But once she’s pulled into human society, Reynolds walks a tightrope, teetering between learning how to “be” human while still carrying that wildness just beneath the surface. And when she’s pushed to her breaking point, she doesn’t just snap, she unleashes the wolf within, fully embodying the physicality and presence of the creature she once was. Easily one of the best performances of the year.
In the end, The Wolf, The Fox, and The Leopard is less about the spectacle of transformation and more about the quiet, aching tension between who we are and who we’re expected to be. Verbeek doesn’t offer easy resolutions. He leans into ambiguity, letting the film breathe in its own strange, haunting rhythm. It’s messy and overwhelming at times, but it’s never dull. Anchored by Jessica Reynolds’ fearless performance, the film gnaws at the bones of identity, nature, and the fragile veneer of civilization. It’s a wild thing, untamed, unsettling, and deeply human. I am down for whatever David Verbeek does next.
My Rating: A-
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