Overview
Release Date:
25 December 1942 (USA)
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Tagline:
She knew strange, fierce pleasures that no other woman could ever feel!
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Plot:
Irena Dubrovna, a beautiful and mysterious Serbian-born fashion artist living in New York City, falls...
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full synopsis
Awards:
1 win
&
1 nomination
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User Comments:
A howl in a concrete jungle
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Crew verified as complete
Additional Details
Also Known As:
A Pantera (Portugal) [pt]Il bacio della pantera (Italy) [it]Katzenmenschen (Germany) [de]Kissaihmiset (Finland) [fi]La dona pantera (Spain: Catalan title) [ca]La féline (France) [fr]La marca de la pantera (Argentina) [es]La mujer pantera (Spain) [es]Ludzie-koty (Poland) [pl]Oi anthropoi gates (Greece) (festival title) [el]Rovdjurskvinnan (Sweden) [sv]Sangue de Pantera (Brazil) [pt]To fili tis magissas (Greece) [el]
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Runtime:
73 min
Aspect Ratio:
1.37 : 1
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Sound Mix:
Mono (RCA Sound System)
Fun Stuff
Trivia:
Original trade reviews appeared Friday the 13 November 1942.
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Goofs:
Factual errors: There was not a King John of Serbia who defeated the Mamelukes. None of the lists of Kings/Princes of Serbia include a King John. The closest historical personage was the Holy Martyr John Vladimir [St. Jovan Vladimir], killed by Tsar Vladimir in 1015 AD.
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Quotes:
Irena Dubrovna:
There are some things a woman doesn't want other women to understand.
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FAQ
A Note Regarding Spoilers
Where did the dead sheep come from?
Why did Dr Judd purposely "forget" his walking stick?
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Message Boards
Discuss this movie with other users on
IMDb message board for Cat People (1942)
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Recommendations
Related Links
One doesn't want for a second to take credit away from screenwriter DeWitt Bodeen, one of the most intelligent scenarists the horror film evr had the benefit of. But it's a matter of record that producer Val Lewton, here as on all his horror pictures, was responsible for the initial premise and the screenplay's final draft. And one wonders how much of Lewton - one of those male writers who tended to form his most empathetic bond with his female characters - there is in Irene: like him an eastern european immigrant (she from Serbia, he from Russia, albeit second generation he grew up in an essentially Russian household) living in the very different world of 40's America, both hyper-sensitive (particularly over morbid fantasies regarding cats) and artists of an essentially solitary and modest nature, but prone to fits of violent temper. Certainly, Irene is one of the most vivid and haunting protagonists any horror film ever had. Some critics may disparage the film as inferior to its follow-up, 'I Walked With a Zombie', but although that's a more completely achieved work, none of its characters captures the imagination as Irene does. One scarcely needs to heap more praise on the most celebrated suspense sequences, but the rest of the movie is more than just a set-up for these. It is, for one thing, oneof the supreme evocations of spiritual loneliness in the cinema. As Irene huddles by the doorknob between her and husband Oliver, while the panther in the nearby zoo calls out through the wintery night, this is an evocation of an isolation more than merely physical and tragically irrevocable. Lewton also had on his side, in this instance, the best of his directors, Jacques Tourneur, a sensualist (which could scarecely be said of his successors, Mark Robson and Robert Wise) who makes of the story a sort of tactile poem in the textures of the black fur of Irene's coat, the silk of her stockings, the flakes of falling snow on Irene and Oliver's wedding night, the wet tarmac across which Jane Randolph has to make her scary walk home, the ebony of an Egyptian cat-statue, the fabric of a couch torn by Irene's fingernails, the white enamel of Irene's bath-tub and the gleaming dusky hunch of her wet shoulders as she sits weeping within. This is a subtle movie, but also an intensely physical one. If there is a weak spot, it lies with the casting of Kent Smith as 'good plain Americano' Oliver Reed. His boy next door charm is hopelessly inadequate to the context of Irene's drama and he increasingly seems doltish and blindly insensitive in the blandness of his responses to her torment. The film might have been greater still if Lewton had cast an edgier, fierier actor, one whose incomprehension of Irene might have betrayed its own violent streak and extended the 'cat people' metaphor beyond Irene herself. Think of someone like John Garfield in the role! But Garfield would have been out of Lewton's budget range and one can scarcely harangue the producer for being too modest, in the production of his first quickie horror, for fully grasping how rich a work of film poetry he and his collaborators were in the process of creating. But poetry it is. The horror genre has never produced as much of that as it ought to have done, so for heaven's sake, make the most of this and the other Lewton productions.