4 out of 5

Directed by: Jacques Tourneur

This is a deeply weird movie, but not… directly weird. It is weird in what I understand to be a very Val Lewton way, of ducking convention while also bowing to the most direct time and money needs of the studio system, thereby “sneaking” some artsy pieces into the fast-buck genre of B-movies. But these are not artsy in a way that necessarily indicates depth, rather just that Val – and his very capable team – were intent on making movies to be proud of within the limitations. And so Cat People, ostensibly about an ancient curse that turns leading lady Irena (Simone Simon) into a man-killing panther if she allows herself to be loved – fulfilling the requisite women-are-evil, prurient undercurrents of horror; including some foreign othering (Irena is Serbian); and offering opportunities for violence – also gets to subvert those same indulgences of the genre / era: Irena and her husband’s (Kent Smith, playing Oliver Reed) relationship is chaste by design, but the film doesn’t chase titillation otherwise as a response to that (with approximately one kiss occurring, and a bathing sequence shot for one of the movie’s best frights, not voyeurism); Irena’s background obviously has some mysticism associated, but her character is treated as human, with a surprisingly understanding – for the time – reaction to her explaining how her peoples totally turn into cats y’all; and while some deaths occur, the movie is severely restrained in getting there, and chooses to douse the sequences in intense noir shadow.

The visuals throughout are a highlight, but again, in a very particular fashion: scenes are edited oddly naturalistically, with rather modern cinematic angles and choice edits, but there’s a subtle dreamlike framing and pacing – but not overtly so: that Lewton balance. Similarly with the aforementioned noir lighting: you can’t not notice it, but its application is more surreal than severe, characters just… hang out in the dark.

These elements hold sway over the film’s possible lack: that it’s… quite empty. Cat People reminds me of Quentin Dupieux’s works, in that nothing much happens, but things just feel off. Of course, Dupieux is much more directly weird and meta, but the general feeling holds true with Cat People. It’s responsible for how the subversions work: the movie occurs in a manner that doesn’t match our expectations, but treats that wholly as normal. Irena is a damsel, but is also given a fair amount of agency. Her husband is seemingly a flat, dullard lead, but is also quite attentive, and dedicated. His friend, Alice (Jane Randolph), whose initially secret affections for Oliver trigger some late-film tensions, is rather up front about her feelings later on – she’s not at all a fatale. And the psychologist who discusses Irena’s cat fixation with her is ostensibly the villain, but functions in moreso of a trickster fashion. And all of this is presented in a muted tone, then rinsed in shadow, and saving its scares for, like, three distinct moments.

While this makes it resolutely watchable, to the point of being riveting, I couldn’t exactly say why that was when in the process of viewing it – and maybe still struggle to express it after the fact, based on the above. However, I think this historically tracks with its reception, which was (and to a certain extent is) critically mixed, but absolutely found an audience at the time of release. Like – we don’t know what this is, but the people like it.

Indeed, I raise my hand as one of those people.