Cats can be monsters on their own. Just look at feral cat colonies. People can be monsters on their own as well, which I think goes without saying. Together, cats and people tend to improve each other, bringing out the better nature of each. Still, there are many times I wish I could be a cat while being able to transition back to my human form at will. 1942’s Cat People shows what that would be like, and the results aren’t so great.
Admittedly, this is more of a psychological drama than a horror film, though we will eventually see Simone Simon is able to transform into formidable black panther. Once one takes into consideration a story she tells eventual husband Kent Smith, one can conclude she descended from witches driven into the mountains of Serbia by one King John. I found it bizarre that, among the various cat themed artwork in her huge apartment, there is a statue of that king holding aloft a sword on which a cat is impaled.
It seems Simon is of a conflicted nature about her past. Something that is interesting is, given her ability to assume the form of a big cat, she also unnerves the big cats at the Central Park zoo where we first see her doing some sketches of a panther. I found this odd but, then again, what cats seem to dislike the most is, in general, other cats. Small cats also don’t like her, such as the Siamese kitten Smith buys for her. Odd how Kent thought this would be an appropriate gift after seeing that statue of King John in her apartment. When they go to return it to the pet shop, all the animals go berserk in Simon’s presence. As that store’s owner says, “You can’t fool a cat. They know when somebody’s not right.” True that.
This is really all a metaphor, a suggestion Simon has a suppressed interest in women, something that couldn’t be directly addressed in the film at the time. One symbol used to covey that here is how she loves to hear the big cats roaring and growing in the night, except the panthers, whose cries she describes as being like a woman’s. More directly suggestible is a very brief scene where a mysterious woman played by Elizabeth Russell approaches Simon during her wedding banquet and asks, in Serbian, if she is a sister. Simon looks mortified and crosses herself, but that will be no defense for the desire to sup from the furry cup.
Not that she actually gets around to that. Instead, she keeps putting off Smith’s amorous advances, even on their wedding night. This guy eventually has the worst case of blue balls imaginable, becoming so distracted that he’s giving wrong specifications to co-worker Jane Randolph for a project on which they’re working. Soon, Randolph is professing her love for him, which seems less appropriate each time I see this picture. Even before then, she makes some comments regarding Simon that are, well, catty. Something especially cold is a scene where the three of them go to a museum and Smith insists Simon go to another exhibit of pretty dresses while he and Randolph pore over models of ships. So much for the guy’s wife trying to fake an interest in his hobbies.
Simon also sees the psychiatrist recommended by Randolph, and I agree with Simon that her husband shouldn’t have told the other woman about their private matters. The doctor is played by Tom Conway. I already misread his name in the opening credits and thought 70s sitcom staple Tim Conway was in this, which would make this a whole different thing. Instead, we get an off-brand George Sanders who is quite condescending.
Surprisingly, the perspective of the film seems to be that Conway is meant to regarded as unpleasant. Another odd thing about those opening credits is they end with this quote from the fictional doctor’s book: “Even as fog continues to lie in the valleys, so does ancient sin cling to the low places, the depressions int eh world consciousness.” Interesting how few psychoanalysts regard anything as a “sin”. I also wondered why he carries a cane which conceals a sword. I’d say that, of the people in this film, he’s the one potentially with the most issues.
There is more such wackiness, such as a littering sign at the zoo which reads: “Let no one say, and say it your shame, that all was beauty here until you came.” I like to think such simple and urgent signs as speed limits were also written in such excessive, purple prose back then: “If you were to drive 56/instead of 55/you will surely arrive earlier/but maybe not alive”.
That Central Park Zoo set looks good, though nobody would mistake it for the real thing. Another interesting set is the massive foyer of Simon’s brownstone, which is the same staircase used in such other RKO movies as The Magnificent Ambersons. Many sets are lit in a manner befitting noir, including great use of light tables in the drafting office where Smith and Randolph work. A striking image is a row of t-squares on a wall like upside-down crosses, which is foreshadowing.
Especially effective are wavy bands of light reflected off the surface of a swimming pool in the film’s most famous scene. Randolph is swimming alone at night when it seems a giant cat is suddenly growing from the shadows. This moment is justifiably legendary. But it isn’t as effective a jump scare as another scene where Simon pursues Randolph and the latter is startled by the sudden arrival of a bus. Somehow, the vehicle’s air brakes sound like the growl of a big cat.
Speaking of sound, there is a odd little set of notes Simon is forever humming which is like a nursery rhyme. That is picked up in the score, making it seem her presence is always nearby even when she’s not on the screen. Another character with a quirky theme tune is the guy who cleans the cages at the zoo, forever singing an odd little ditty which only seems have one line, and that concerns him not having anything to do. I thought he was a harmless enough character until he claims leopards are evil, citing the Book of Revelations as his proof. Do not trust anybody who hates cats, and especially ones who say they do so because of the Bible.
The effects are interesting in that their simplicity makes them so effective. My most favorite moment in the film has Simon’s transformation from cat back to human form conveyed only through a slow pan across wet pawprints which then become footprints. A surreal moment has animated loops of black cats walking towards the viewer. One particularly striking effect has Simon’s nails appear to scratch long tears in a sofa cushion.
The dialogue has a fair amount of snap to it, though the script occasionally shoehorns in cat references where they don’t really work. Consider when Randolph says she feels like a cat just walked over her grave. People may have long said variations of that phrase, but this is only time somebody claimed a cat did this. Excuse me while I say she does have the lion’s share of the best lines, with such dialogue as, “Anything you want to know about this city, just ask me. I know all the unimportant details.” I was also amused by her response when Smith says she’s “swell”: “That’s what makes me dangerous, I’m the new kind of other woman.” Alas, she will eventually prove that to be correct.
Cat People is an extraordinary film and essential viewing. It is one of those works which takes the constraints of a limited budget and turns that liability into an asset. The scares are all the more effective, and the effects are the more powerful, because of how much we don’t see. The most interesting aspect of the picture is how the alleged villain is more interesting than the leads, and she earns our sympathy. This is somebody who didn’t want to fall in love, because she knew she could only end up hurting somebody in one way or another. In the end, even Smith and Randolph must concede a fundamental truth about her when he says, “She never lied to us.”
Dir: Jacques Tourneur
Starring Simone Simon, Kent Smith, Tom Conway, Jane Randolph
Watched on Criterion Collection blu-ray