Cat People (1982).

Review #2290: Cat People (1982). 

Cast: 

Nastassja Kinski (Irena Gallier), Malcolm McDowell (Paul Gallier), John Heard (Oliver Yates), Annette O'Toole (Alice Perrin), Ruby Dee (Female), Ed Begley Jr (Joe Creigh), Scott Paulin (Bill Searle), Frankie Faison (Detective Brandt; dubbed by Albert Hall), Lynn Lowry (Ruthie), and John Larroquette (Bronte Judson) Directed by Paul Schrader.

Review: 

"Cat People wasn’t successful. It really fell between two stools: it was an attempt to have things both ways, which is to have a classy film and a horror film. Well, the horror audience went and said, ‘Hey, this doesn’t look like a horror film, it’s not for us’, and the sophisticated audience went and said, ‘Hey, this is just a horror film.’ So it wasn’t really satisfying to the audience."

Sure, give a few decades and you can just remake a movie right then and there. The 1942 Cat People had been a team effort that had DeWitt Bodeen write the screenplay as based in collaboration with producer Val Lewton, director Jacques Tourneur, and editor Mark Robson. The process of remaking the film was first brought up by Milton Subotsky before Universal Pictures eventually got the rights and made their own push that took several years of the 1970s (Robert Vadim was interested to direct at one point). You might recognize the screenwriter in Alan Ormsby, the co-director and writer of Deranged (1974) and a variety of other writing projects. Universal tapped Paul Schrader (who once labeled the 1942 rendition as one that he didn't find very good) to direct the film, with most knowing him for his work on scripts such as Taxi Driver (1976) before becoming a director with Blue Collar (1978); he claimed that he had contributed to the writing of the film in terms of its prologue and the ending to make it more distinct from the original, although Ormsby claims otherwise. The movie was a mild success with audiences at the time, or at the very least managed to accomplish the goal of not inspiring a filmmaker to try and do their own remake of a remake four decades later. Schrader has been quoted as saying that in his attempts to do a genre film as a "very salutary exercise" in not being about himself, he ended up making a movie that ranked up there as among his most personal.

The funny thing about the films is that it accomplishes one thing in particular: it sure is distinct on its own merit from the original that you won't mistake it as a copy because of its erotic elements within the perils of flesh. You might remember that the original dealt with a woman (played by Simone Simon) who thought they were descended from a tribe of, well, cat people that may or may not turn into black panthers when aroused (it basically had elements of the noir); the lady in that movie went the whole road to marriage without getting kissed. Here we have a woman who must confront the peril of really having a family tradition of were-cats that must kill in order to turn back. It just so happens to involve a few bits of skin and the mix of effects and cats in a movie best described as lurid curiosity for 118 minutes. If you asked me which movie called Cat People is the better among the two, I think I would throw my hands in the air and shrug at it basically being a dead heat because each are from accomplished filmmakers that represent their era quite well in overall enjoyment vs. rewarding the patience of those who are into what it is selling. Kinski practically lifts the film almost entirely to the realm of curious because of how she acts in the film without really even acting that much to begin with (apparently, she seemed to felt manipulated when it came to her assessment of the resulting film). Her grace really does have the instincts of a cat in frenzied timing that sells the plight of flesh. Whether you compare the two films or not, she sure exceeds Simon when it comes to worthwhile lead performances by a handy margin. McDowell may not be in the movie too long, but he sure is loopy enough to belong in weirdo enjoyment that he sells from the word "go", but I say that as someone who went with the film's peddling of ideas right then and there (you really should just see it right then and there rather than skimming the plot). Heard and O'Toole are fine, albeit on a smaller scale that only works some of the time in trying to do a would-be love triangle that only works for those who like the actors enough in the first place; Heard just happens to be the ideal guy to chase a girl like Kinski in strange pursuer/pursued, as opposed to the mild other. Besides, it is quite the curiosity to see Heard having to engage with the climax in a cathouse blues type of way that really will make or break the film for you when it comes to stupendous suspension of disbelief; I dont know if I would call the film "classy", but even "dedicated" is a better way to put it than,  say, "not fun horror". It is a movie that looks and sounds exactly on point of mystical curiosity, never turning itself off even when not going all-out for effects work (you get some blood anyway). As a whole, it is a strange sensual kind of sensationalism that one will either take right in for scintillating enjoyment or baffled disappointment. It feels good to be on the side of the former but have it your way among the creatures of the night.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Crazies.

Review #1901: The Crazies.

Cast: 

Lane Carroll (Judy), Will McMillan (David), Harold Wayne Jones (Clank), Lloyd Hollar (Colonel Peckem), Lynn Lowry (Kathy), Richard Liberty (Artie), Richard France (Dr. Watts), Harry Spillman (Major Ryder), Will Disney (Dr. Brookmyre), and Edith Bell (Lab Technician) Directed by George A. Romero (#738 - Night of the Living Dead (1968), #1155 - Dawn of the Dead (1978), and #1588 - Day of the Dead)

Review: 

If I gave you a couple of guesses as to what George A. Romero directed after Night of the Living Dead (1968), you probably would struggle a bit before giving up. Go figure, the two films that followed them were not horror films. There's Always Vanilla was released in 1971 as his only romantic comedy, and Season of the Witch was released in 1972 as a feminist film that got cut into a softcore porn film (never doubt the gall of independent releasers). And then of course this film followed those, a horror film that was shot for $275,000 in the towns of Evans City and Zelienople in Pennsylvania. The film is based on a screenplay called "The Mad People" that Paul McCollough had written. There was interest from both the producer and Romero to make the film, albeit with changes made by Romero. The screenplay did have a bioweapon released on accident in a small town with a coverup and revolt, but apparently the screenplay was more existential than horror, since it focused on the townspeople rather than the military. I can definitely see where the interest may lie better with trying to cut to the chase in chaos rather than focusing on implications. There was a mix of both professional and nonprofessional actors (such having the special effects technician play the husband acting against the kids of the cinematographer in the opening sequence) that did their own stunts while a good deal of the audio mixing was done in post-production. The movie was a failure at the box office, owing in part due to ineffective marketing (the movie was released as "Code Name: Trixie" in some markets). A remake was commissioned in 2010, released in the middle of other movies involving threats of sickness in Outbreak (1995) and Contagion (2011), and Romero served as an executive producer. Romero followed this film with the thriller The Amusement Park (premiered in 1975 to one festival and nothing else) and two horror films with Martin (1978) and Dawn of the Dead (1978). 

It is the raw immediacy of the film when it comes to mixing both social subtext and horror that makes it a curious cult classic, one that looks better and better for what it reaches for in the horror of chaos rather than something made with glossy or lofty ambition. It certainly helps that the ending doesn't play it particularly safe by the time it finishes its 103-minute runtime. In crisis, you really can't tell who the crazy one is, as one sees in a movie wrapped in paranoia and perhaps a bit of dark comedy, where people will either recess into their darkest desires or end up shooting at tons of folks in the name of order. One can look at it something quite relevant to now or look upon the possible comparisons to the Vietnam War, at least when you think about the fact that one of the characters is depicted lighting themselves on fire. It inspires flashes of debate over what side you find yourself on in perspective when it comes to people trying to do their job with plenty of resistance versus townspeople who are thrust into chaos with a lack of timing and everything (so yes, do you find favor with folks who get stabbed by old ladies or people who get shot if they resist and run?). In a nutshell: When things go to hell, they really can go to hell in a hurry. As with Living Dead, the acting is fairly suitable in mild expression when compared to the surrounding terror. McMillan, Carroll, and Jones make up the key trio that meet their task head on in frantic timing that works to the pacing of the movie rather than bog it down, where their drama does seem to matter. The beleaguered Hollar is one of the highlights, one that carries tension on his shoulders with righteous timing to make a quality tragic role. France (an occasional actor when not writing plays or reviews) generates the irritated confidence required here as the sane man in hell, while Liberty and Lowry close out the general focus decently. The climax is bittersweet and utterly dead-on with leaving things where they are for the audience to use their imagination (cynical or not) rather than play it easy. It does play a bit loose with its pacing at times, but the moments of horror (blood or not) do help to keep things with steam, and I think it qualifies as something that works the right angle in wry observation without pandering or cheap tricks. It may have been under-appreciated in its time, but a near half-century since the release of this film has only served to make it better and better to look upon in the documents of horror, imperfect or not. 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Shivers.

Review #1624: Shivers.

Cast: 

Paul Hampton (Roger St. Luc), Joe Silver (Rollo Linsky), Lynn Lowry (Nurse Forsythe), Alan Migicovsky (Nicholas Tudor), Susan Petrie (Janine Tudor), Barbara Steele (Betts), Ronald Mlodzik (Merrick), Barry Boldero (Det. Heller), Camil Ducharme (Mr. Guilbault), Hanka Posnanska (Mrs. Guilbault), Wally Martin (Doorman), Vlasta Vrána (Kresimer Sviben), and Silvie Debois (Benda Sviben) Written and Directed by David Cronenberg (#816 - Crimes of the Future, #1127 - eXistenZ, #1220 - A History of Violence, and #1239 - Stereo)

Review: 

"If you admit to the possibilities of the most horrific things, then maybe they won't happen. It's what I do when I make movies. You're hoping it's going to stay on the screen and not come into your life." 

There have been a variety of important directors in cinema that came from the nation of Canada, but David Cronenberg most certainly is one of the most transgressive to help shape the course of cinema in body horror with films that provoke just as much interpretation as they inspire squeamish feeling. They inspire confrontation as much as they do chills because they involve qualities of life that are not easy to face in clear comfort, as he aspires to take the audience on a journey to ask questions without needing clear answers. The Toronto native had an interest as a child in reading from a young age (owing to his parents, a journalist and a musician in their interests), ranging from science fiction to comic books to EC Comics, and his initial interest was to become a novelist. While he was an avid cinemagoer (ranging from Westerns to Bambi to The Blue Lagoon), it was the screening of Winter Kept Us Warm (1966) by fellow University of Toronto classmate David Secter that sparked him to get into filmmaking, which he started with experimental work in 1966 that led to two shorts and two arthouse features. Cronenberg approached Cinepix with his script first. The company, if one did not know, had been started in 1962 under the leadership of John Dunning and Andre Link, and Cronenberg would note them as crucial influences on him (the former for filmmaking and the latter on the finance side). The Montreal-based company went from distributing films in Canada and the United States to eventually doing their own with Valerie (1969). They had wanted to tap into the independent market with horror (as was the case with Roger Corman and his films at the time) instead of just sensual-tinged work (the company persists on to the day, although you might recognize them under their current name as Lionsgate Films). Cronenberg had just two films to his output at the time (which were basically like underground work), and Cinepix desired to buy his script without having him direct. Cronenberg was not willing to let his script be filmed without him, and he was close to approaching the lower budget-minded studios in Hollywood and doing the film there before funding was found, with the Canadian Film Development Corporation (now known as Telefilm Canada) helping to allocate funds. Ivan Reitman (co-founder of the Toronto Film Co-op with Cronenberg) served as producer for the film (alongside music supervisor), and he would work with Cronenberg and Cinefix again with his next film in Rabid two years later alongside his own breakthrough venture with Meatballs (1979). The film was shot for $185,000 over the course of 15 days. Joe Blasco was the effects man for the film, and it certainly goes to show the state of the Canadian industry to see this as one of the first serious horror films in the nation.

There were numerous titles that came before and after production occurred, with the initial working title being "Orgy of the Blood Parasites", while the title done for filming was "The Parasite Murders", and in America it was released as "They Came from Within". The funny thing is that the uproar over the film nearly overshadowed the fact that the film was a success from the start with audiences. Since it had been funded in part by the government, there was a bit of commotion done about its merits, most notably with an article in Saturday Night magazine, in which it was felt that Canada shouldn't have a film industry if films like this needed to be made to have an industry; reportedly, the article delayed production of Cronenberg's next film with Rabid (1977) in terms of setting up funding. Obviously time has proven Cronenberg infinitely correct in this regard, since Shivers serves as an important shift in the director's career as his first triumph that serves as a creeping gem. I readily enjoyed the film in its low-budget creeping chills, one that that shows a degree of dark humor within a somewhat familiar premise that works over its limitations for interesting entertainment. We are talking about a movie involving hedonistic zombies that desire pleasure while creeping into your body, after all. Cronenberg has noted that some of the elements might seem familiar when compare to Alien (1979). Think about it: we have a creature that go around a location through someone's orifices and lurk within the stomach that happen to burn acid if in contact with someone's face (Cronenberg once noted that if free love really was true, would this not be what it actually looked like?) - interpret it for yourself, since the writer of that film (Dan O'Bannon) noted that he didn't steal the idea from anybody, he stole it "from everybody!" The effects were done through a combination of condoms, tubing, bottles, and coat hangers that helped move the parasite around to simulate being in the body or being outside, and while the wires might be visible at certain times (like the shot involving it going across the grass), I found it fascinating in its gruesomeness, unsettling with its gooey movement, one that will certainly fit for these monsters of lust. 

The acting is okay, showing a mix of somewhat familiar faces and voices with more obscure ones. Hampton for example was more known as a singer and composer, although he did spots on film and TV. He does alright here, even if he seems more indifferent that readily concerned with the growing trend of craven creatures desiring each other's flesh. Silver was noted for his deep voice and roughly a thousand appearances on television alongside occasional appearances in film. He certainly makes a useful impression in terms of moving the plot forward, and he even gets in on the parasite action near the end for effect. Lowry is known for her horror appearances (such as The Crazies), and she proves the best performance for the film, one with captivating spirit that seems out of place with the growing weirdness, and it is her scene in the climax that proves quite fascinating about desire and dreams. Migicovsky and Petrie don't have as much lasting effect, with the former being used more for the stomach (with a creature inside) and the latter to react to all that (plus a scene with Betts), which is okay but not as interesting as the others (Petrie apparently needed to have Cronenberg slap her really hard in order for her to cry when the cameras needed her to cry). Steele doesn't have as much to do, but at least the scene spent in the tub is squirmy enough. Mlodzik is the branch from the previous Cronenberg films, with this being the third of four appearances, and he plays the smarmy manager just fine. The 87 minutes go by with some shivers at what we see play out through a film not afraid of limitations or taboos that strikes a chord with its perversions of the flesh that is entertaining without becoming a lynchpin for weirdness without some sort of interest to keep coming back to where it wants to go. For a director that would only hone his craft further with interesting films involving the body and horror, this is certainly a good starting point to go with Cronenberg and his dazzling display of terror within us. It is a nasty one that might not hit everyone's mark, but I got a kick out of where it wanted to go in unsettling nature to make it count.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.