Ah, the mysteries of the Black Panther. . . not Wakanda, vibranium, or the ever growing Marvel franchise, but rather, the enigma that is those giant cats that have been rumoured to be part human. First explored in the 1942 classic B horror film Cat People, reviewed here on Filmizon last October (http://filmizon.com/movie_reviews/catnip/), director Paul Schrader remade it in 1982 under the same title, finding his own unique spin on the tale.
Starting a little earlier than normal this year, this will be the beginning of a number of horror reviews leading up to Halloween (if you are not a horror fan, fear not, there will still be several non horror related pictures reviewed).
Moving at its own pace, a skulking cat waiting for the opportune time to pounce, the narrative follows Irena Gallier (Nastassja Kinski), a young woman with a perplexing past. . . living in foster care for her childhood, her brother Paul (Malcolm McDowell) has finally tracked her down, the girl making the trek to New Orleans to reunite.
Both siblings are rather peculiar, Irena’s alluring eyes and striking bone structure making her an attractive riddle, while Paul’s peepers are equally as noticeable, the type of guy who picks up buxom women at cemeteries and is unusually touchy with his sister – some might call it creepy, yet this animalistic demeanor somehow seems to attract the opposite sex. Their parents, who committed suicide, raised them in the circus, their respective movements like that of the creature referenced in the motion picture’s title (McDowell’s impressive movements were actually filmed in reverse, meaning that he had to act it out as such).
Set in a city with its own history, its gothic, aged architecture is symbolic of the haunted past of these supposed cat people, while the sexual partying aspect of the locale also speaks to the animalistic nature of the story. As if drawn to the place, Irena visits the picturesque zoo, immediately spotting a black panther – an animal that found its way into a seedy hotel the night before, ripping a woman’s leg open in the process.
It is here that she meets the zoo’s curator, Oliver Yates (John Heard), a thirty-something man who has never been in love. Falling for each other at first sight, Oliver attempts to court the elusive woman. . . whose brother has curiously disappeared for a few days. Getting her a job in the gift shop, it keeps her close, ample opportunity to woo the shielded maiden. And, his motives are always pretty clear – for when she hears a noise while they are visiting his retreat out on the bayou, he says, “yeah, that’s alligators. They’re gonna eat us. There’s only one way to keep em away. You know what that is? . . . You have to make love. They hate the sound.”. I think you get the point.
With a spirit of underlying danger and sexuality, there is a certain taboo eroticism to the piece. . . that magical combination originally found in the Dracula tale, a sensuality in the blood, a steaminess in the unimaginable, a passion for the seemingly unattainable. Fighting her past, Irena fears that she may very well be one of these supposed cat people, something her brother seems to be – but could he simply have a pet panther, or be a serial killer? What cannot be denied is that he is transfixed by his sister, a vision in his mind that she is the only one who can tame the beast. What will come of this most unorthodox quasi love triangle? Is Irina actually a cat woman? If so, is Oliver a goner? Or, can the two find love. . . and would that be considered beastiality?
Filmed with a copious amount of style by Schrader and cinematographer John Bailey, they often light from the side, providing an almost German style of expressionism, characters’ shadows walking up stairs as they make their way through spindled shadow and light, while at other times, it resembles something closer to film noir barring – representing a caged animal, its spirit attempting to break free from its confines. Also paying tribute to the original, a woman jogs in the park. . . resembling the iconic sequence in which a lady thinks she is being stalked on a sidewalk (often considered one of, if not the first jump scares), its pacing through editing feeling as if a cat is nipping at our heels – paranoia closing in. This leads into the only sequence that is basically done verbatim – the swimming pool scene known as one of the best horror moments of all-time – they realized it could not be outdone, and recaptured its impressive spirit once again. To conclude on its style, Cat People also features some absolutely fascinating transformations – impressive practical effects that resemble the work found in John Landis’ An American Werewolf in London.
Just as important is its electronically driven score by Giorgio Moroder and its classic theme song by David Bowie. It seems only fitting that the master of androgyny, the man who oft transformed his persona, wrote this song that centres on the amazing line, “And I’ve been putting out fire with gasoline”, a beautifully coined phrase that captures the dangers found onscreen – and when it blasts out of the speakers as the end credits roll, it gives a certain shiver down the spine.
Filmizon.com’s Nikolai Adams with Malcolm McDowell
A unique film about urges, and whether we can control that animal instinct, Cat People trods a different path from the original (only three scenes are similar, the rest of the film, other than the generic idea of cat people, is new – actually, its depiction of the history of the cat people is rather interesting) – tension and atmosphere, bloody horror, sex, eroticism and nudity. . . this one has a bit of everything. With an intriguing ending, it is a wonderful companion to the 1942 feature, as well as a solid standalone piece. And, lest we forget the cast, a young Kinski holding her own, McDowell and Heard excellent supporters, while you should also keep an eye open for great turns from Annette O’Toole as a perky redhead zoo employee who is enamoured with Oliver, Ruby Dee, Ed Begley Jr., and John Larroquette. So, lap up this feline fantasy, it won’t tie you down.