It’s a shame nobody thought to use the title Faster, Pussycat KILL KILL before Russ Meyer, as it would have been perfect for 1961’s The Shadow of the Cat.
This gothic horror film has a tabby out to avenge the death of his elderly owner, Catherine Lacey. She isn’t in the movie for long. We first see her reading “The Raven” to the cat. Anybody who thinks that is a waste of time is thinking like a cop we’ll see later in the film who chastises another for talking to the cat, saying he might as well be talking to himself. I agree with the other’s reply that the man doesn’t know cats.
Alas, Lacey will get bludgeoned to death by Andrew Crawford, making this that rare occasion where the butler really did do it. The murder was actually masterminded by husband Andre Morell, who is widely known to always have been after her money. Also in on the plot is the housekeeper, played by Freda Jackson. Each of them will be stalked by the cat, the only witness to the murder.
Barbara Shelley, as Lacey’s beloved niece, arrives at the mansion, worried about the aunt that has been reported as missing. As the true inheritor of the estate, she is in danger of losing her life as well, especially if the others can find the original of Lacey’s will that bequeaths the entire estate to her. I am deliberately ignoring why the old woman agreed to draw up the new will, as well as why the villains thought it would be sensible to exclude her favorite relative from it entirely.
Then again, the villains aren’t exactly geniuses, as they are confusing everybody else with their obsession with trying to catch and kill Lacey’s cat, energies which seemingly should be put more into finding the allegedly missing woman. There’s more than a bit of humor in this production, simply from the dumbfounded reaction shots. Shelley: “You mean to tell me a common domesticated cat is terrorizing three grown adults?”
And Morell, Crawford and Jackson have good reason to be afraid, as each will be dispatched by the cat in ways which exploit their shortcomings. Crawford is the first to go, drowning in the marsh he foolishly followed the tabby into after it escaped from the burlap sack in which he intended to drown it. And Morell will surely be done in by his heart. The actor so completely throws himself into his performance that I worried for his health in an early scene where his character is so frustrated by a failed attempt to bludgeon the feline that he obliterates a shelfful of glass bottles with a cane. Jackson is so tormented that I’m surprised she wasn’t the first to go. At one point, Shelley nearly takes a knife to the face thrown by the housekeeper, who thought it was the cat. I am especially confused by why she apparently thought the tabby was suddenly five feet tall.
Assisting Shelley is Conrad Philips as a newspaper reporter whose publication only exists because of Lacey’s patronage when he was starting. The opposition, however, will be bolstered by additional duplicitous relations summoned by Morell, and these are played by Richard Warner, Vanda Godsell and William Lucas. Anybody watching this knows these characters have been added just so more than three people can be offed.
The Shadow of the Cat is a slight film, but an enjoyable one. Despite the multiple deaths in it, nothing about those give this the feel of a horror film. It has too few intentional jokes to be called a comedy, and it was mostly reaction shots from Shelley that received chuckles from me. And yet, this is one of the few films of this kind I suspect I will revisit at some point in the future. Mildly recommended for when you need something to occupy an overcast weekend afternoon.
Dir: John Gilling
Starring Andre Morell, Barbara Shelley
Watched as part of Shout Factory’s blu-ray box set Universal Horror Collection: Volume 6