Raised in foster homes, Irena Gallier (Nastassia Kinski) journeys to New Orleans to meet her brother, Paul (Malcolm McDowell). Paul is a shape changer, becoming a panther when sexually excited, and he wants Irena for himself. The virginal Irena is unready for her brother’s advances, or her feelings for the local zoo curator, Oliver (John Heard). And she’s really not ready for the truth behind her own superior senses and awakening sexuality.
In the distant past, an unknown race of humans sacrificed young girls to their gods, the leopards. Over time, the souls of the victims joined with the great cats, creating a new race, the cat people. They look human, but deep inside, they are predators, and when their human half delves into its glorious animal side for passion and sex, the cat comes out.
This is the stuff of myth, and the kind of story that film is perfect for. Cat People shows that distant, legendary world, in impossible shades of orange, with unending dunes and a fantasy tree. Then it switches to the mundane now. However, by focusing on the strange parts of “reality” and altering colors, the common world merges with the mythic, and everything ends up a little magical.
Director Paul Schrader, who also massively re-wrote the script, tells intertwined tales. Besides the dream-like past, he gives us Irena, walking the line between innocence and lust. As she’s becoming aware of herself, of the desires and strengths that will overwhelm her fears, Oliver, a rather ordinary man, is searching for a woman to worship. He has his perfect mate in Alice (Annette O’Toole), a colleague who shares his interests. But he doesn’t want her. He wants something intangible, something that will give his life meaning. He doesn’t want to be the non-entity lover he so obviously is; he wants to be a priest. It’s no surprise that he obsesses over Irena. Irena also has a perfect mate in her brother-god. But she’s too afraid of what’s inside her to even consider going to him. Besides, why would a god want another god when she can have a worshipper?
Cat People should never be taken as an everyday story with some monsters, as it will unravel pretty quickly. This is an abstract film about accepting yourself, and about desire and lust. Some people still consider it shocking due to the large amount of nudity in the second half. I find it difficult to fathom why half-panthers overwhelmed by their carnal natures should be dwelling on keeping their clothing primly buttoned. Luckily, Schrader doesn’t understand it either, creating powerful and sensuous moments with the nude Irena walking through the trees.
Matching the powerful themes is the lush cinematography of John Bailey and the extravagant set designs of Ferdinando Scarfiotti. Together, they create a spectacular neither-world which is sometimes almost New Orleans, but not quite.
The synthesizer score by Giorgio Moroder is a bit thick in some of the real world shots (driving down the road), but gives power to the otherworld scenes. The drum-laden music that backs the ancient ritualistic sacrifices pops up again and again, and never by accident.
Conventional horror films would have it all end in fight to the death between the hero and monster, in which the castle would burn to the ground. But thankfully, Schrader defies convention, giving us something new that fits his work.
I’m immune to most gore, happily snacking away at my popcorn during Day of the Dead, but Cat People has one scene that turned my stomach. It involves poor Ed Begley Jr. and I suggest the most sensitive be prepared. But as a whole, this isn’t a film that concentrates on blood or chills. Guillermo del Toro (Blade II, Hellboy) has stated that in making horror, he is friends with the monsters and wants to bring out the beauty inherent in them. That’s the case for Cat People. The monsters aren’t frightening, as long as you’re not too close; they are fascinating and sexy.
Occasionally, Schrader gets so wrapped up in the tone, he forgets the pacing. The middle is slow, with unnecessary moments, such as Irena buying her train ticket. I know she’s leaving. If I then see her on the train, I can work out that she bought a ticket. Also, too much time is spent driving from one place to another and looking around the city. It’s an interesting city, but I don’t need a tour.
Nastassia Kinski nails sensual and frightened, and Malcolm McDowell is larger-than-life in a larger-than-life role. But John Heard displays little personality of any kind. Sure, he’s the mere mortal surrounded by superhuman beings, but that doesn’t mean he has to be boring.
Cat People didn’t do well with critics. Many insist on comparing it to the 1942 film of the same name and then are upset that it’s not the same film. Note to critics: Remaking a film exactly like the original is a BAD idea. If in doubt, see Psycho. Schrader’s indicated he was foolish to use the name “Cat People” and wishes he’d changed it. The films have no connection except a vague notion about human shape changers (vague because in the ’42 film, there may not be any cat people) and one similar scene in a swimming pool. This is a different movie, with different themes, a different plot, and a different look. It should be taken for what it is.
The other complaint is that it has a lot of nudity. Apparently, nudity is bad. I’ll have to remember that as it isn’t something that sticks in my mind (I’m happy about that by the way). Those yelping about this are less clear on why nudity is bad, but just toss around the word “exploitation” and think they’ve said something meaningful. Occasionally it’s pointed out that having people naked isn’t subtle. How true. And who said this was supposed to be subtle?
Cat People is an exciting, original film of a kind not made in recent prudish times. The art direction alone makes it worthwhile. Add in complex themes, beautiful cats, and the more beautiful Nastassia Kinski and you have a compelling two hours.