CAT PEOPLE (1982)
I’m a big, big fan of Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People from the ‘40s and an even bigger fan of the fantasy films released in 1982 (it was a good year to be a geek), so I’m kind of surprised myself that I never sat down to watch the Paul Schrader remake.
Where the original goes into overdrive to use subtlety, shadow, and mystery to equivocate a metaphor for sexual frustration, the remake lays it all on the table.
Not so subtle imagery runs rampant: blood gushing on pristine white floors (underneath an exasperated virgin’s legs), a long tail playfully swats at a hooker before she is ripped apart; the zookeeper boyfriend teaches our female lead just how easy it is to swallow raw oysters the right way.
The film’s photography is dreamlike: blood red skies hover above an ancient wilderness; a sensual Natasha Kinski mourns her brother’s death in the rain; Annette O’Toole floats weightless in a pool, lit as to give off an uncanny neon glow.
But if there’s one thing I loved most, it’s the film’s theme of how we deal with the power of sexuality in others. All of us have it in us the primal need to both fear and control what we lust after. Natasha Kinski’s character is fresh, beautiful and exotic. John Heard’s character, intoxicated by this, confuses objectification for love. When he eventually makes love to her, he is incapable of dealing with the power, strength, and confusion that comes with her sexual awakening. By the picture’s end, when Kinski asks to be set free and live with her own kind, we see Heard make a choice of a person emotionally immature. Love is about mutual harmony; lust is about fulfilling your own needs.
