Cat People (1942)

Directed by Jacques Tourneur

“Let no one say, and say it to your shame / That all was beauty here, until you came.”

This week on Camera Coverage, after an unfortunate but necessary hiatus, we take a chance at yet another Horror Classic. This time we discuss one of RKO’s ultimate, but sadly forgotten classics, Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People. We often associate suspense films of this era with Alfred Hitchcock, and rightly so, but Tourneur is a French director that utilized the techniques of the afforementioned director to a new height in his Hollywood career. Despite being associated with B-movie fair, Cat People presents classic horror cinema at its best. There is a creature, there is melodrama, there is symbolism and there is masterful use of archaic techniques in order to portray (or not) all these cathartic elements.

The film plays with the character of Irena Dubrovna (Simone Simon), a Serbian fashion designer working in New York. Right from the beginning of the film we are introduced to her future husband Oliver Reed (Kent Smith), who’s relationship with will be the main focus of the whole film. Irena has a unsettling past and is afraid that some legends from her village in Serbia are true and inside her. Stories of witches, kings, witchhunters and, of course, cat people, live within her as she expresses her anxieties of the possibility of all of it being true. This will lead to a troubled marriage, in which physical contact is inexistant, and the insistence of another woman inside the relationship dynamic will be the key factor for Irena to release the panther within her.

Alice as, in a genre bending role, The Other Woman, a New Yorker intruding a troubled marriage between a Serbian (Irena) and an American (Oliver).

All of this is quite literal. Irena seems to really release, or rather transform into, a panther by the third act of the film. So what makes the film so fascinating despite its somewhat cheesy premise? Well, what could have turned into a really awkward puppet and silicone fest is dealt with incredible subtilty. Tourneur’s cinema uses shadows as one of its foundational elements. This is essential to a film working with metamorphosis as is Cat People. The idea of transformation is never portrayed directly onto the screen, but suggested. I believe, as many others do, that Tourneur utilized heavy indexicality mainly because of the somewhat low budget of the film. That said, when working with abductive imagery he manages to elevate the film not only in terms of ambiguity, but also in relation to films that utilize top-notch special effects but sadly do not hold so well nowadays. It must be noted and observed that this technique is not reduced to editing and cutting the scene when transformations are due, but there is a work of suggestive imagery throughout the whole of the film. From images of Irena with paintings of menacing cats in the background, to juxstaposition of her body and a reproduction of a statue of Anubis, to the crossing of Irena’s figure and the shadow of an armchair giving her some sort of cat ears. One of the key scenes works with Irena’s footsteps quickly silencing as she is chasing Alice (Jane Randolph), as we must only assume that her feet transmorphed into the silent, deadly paws of a black panther. This film represents the use of cinema’s rhethorical means at its best, using not only the resource of image and visual representation, but going as far as utilizing sound to its most effective.

Another example of suggestion – in this case premonition – of a scene through shadows and objects. If you look closely you can observe the shadow of the bird and its cage projected onto the black panther image, predicting what would later happen in that scene regarding the bird’s death.

One can love a film by its technical prowess, but what does it all really mean? Well, Cat People does not shy away from ambiguity. This is not only due to the decisions behind the technical aspects of the film, but also due to the broad themes that the film is dealing with. Probably the most clear readings of the film lay on the problem of sexuality, femininity and relationships as a whole. There is a clear suggestion throughout the whole film of Irena’s fear of touch, even though she is already married and social or even religious judgements are not an issue. This woman is dynamic in the film, as she can transform into a menacing beast that is awaken by the overextension of male activity in the world that is her own – this is, sexual intercourse regarding her own body. But what about her Serbian identity? The reading of the film as a cultural collision is another interesting perspective by which we can approach Cat People.

Despite all these possible perspectives on the film, its ambiguity and blank spaces should be respected and perceived as such. This is a film that is simultaneously meant to be enjoyed and discussed, but never reduced to x or y perspective. By trying to limit the film’s readings (there is an immense focus by critics in accessing the film with the perspective on sexual anxieties), we tend to leave its essential element of identity that it is dealing with. More than a woman or a Serbian, Irene is an individual trying to defend her individuality when in necessity of interacting with other individuals. Whether Irene is a cat person or not we will never get to really see, but what we get to see is that Irene is as human as she can as she tries to survive in our inherently intrusive world.

High Life (2019)

Directed by Claire Denis

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“It’s just a new religion for you.”

The presence of female directors in the worldwide film industry unfortunately is still somewhat lacking. For instance, over the last decade only 4% of the top 1,200 studio films were directed by women. Despite the odds, Claire Denis has throughout her career established herself as one of the most important French directors of the last decades. Her directing highlights go from Chocolat (1988), a film about France’s post-colonial issues; or Beau Travail (1999), dealing with the memories of war from French Foreign Legion soldiers. In this last one is especially interesting that themes like hypermasculinity and repressed homosexual feelings are explored by a female director, giving it a fresh new look on war films.

Claire takes now a shot at the science-fiction genre with High Life. The film tries to add new perspectives to what it means to be human when you are enclosed in a small spaceship far away from earth. It is not an easy task since the theme is well documented already, for instance in film classics like 2001, A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968) or Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1972). However, High Life is quite a different experience and references new ideas and problematics.

The great use of red lighting

The plot functions around a group of inmates whose life sentence is to collect an unknown form of energy somewhere near a black hole. The intricacies deepen as we are introduced to the different individuals that compose the unlikely team. Dr. Dibs (Juliette Binoche) is a doctor obsessed with collecting sperm samples from the male crew members and then artificially inseminate the female ones. Failing to do so constantly she decides to double the sedative dosage and, through rape, collect the sperm from Monte (Robert Pattinson), the star of the film. The sexual tension is raised even higher with the introduction of this masturbatory machine that all of the crew, but Monte, use regularly. In a somewhat full of sexual tension and at the same time somewhat eerie scene (with a vibe that reminded me the killings in Under the Skin (2013) ) we see Binoche ride this contraption called “The Fuckbox”. In a complete trance-like state, this machine with a dildo end is set in a dark room with bondage straps hanging up from the ceiling. Making a companion to the heavy sexual tone is also the violence between the team. In a way it’s like the film tries to associate the presence of one with the other. It may start as a sexual violence situation like rape and end up in murder. These are a group of people that have lost a sense of purpose in life due to the uncertainty of their future and the claustrophobic aspect of living in a small ship in deep space.

Inside “The Fuckbox”

The film begins with Monte living with a small child, alone in the spaceship. We later get to know that that child is the only success of Dr. Dibs and her mischievous tries to create newborns. Despite being an unwanted child, in a way it truly saves Monte from the same fate as his crew. Denis tries to show, especially between Monte and his little girl, some positive aspects about Humanity. In the final scenes we get to experience the wholesome relationship between the two until the ambiguous ending.

Its an interesting concept but not without its flaws. Starting with the cinematography, its somewhat lackluster, especially if we are talking about a revered director like Denis. The exterior space shots feel cheap and not very interesting either artistically or realistic, either way. Inside the spaceship it does get that much better. With points taken by the brilliant use of red light, there isn’t much there that blows you away. Maybe Denis was going for an homage to the spaceships of the 70’s because sure feels like we’re in one. The cast works well, especially Pattinson, but the dialogues feel sometimes forced and don’t add much to the plot.

It’s a peculiar film that will not appeal to the major movie goer for sure. It explores the most raw and vicious aspects about our sexuality and capacity to engage in violence. Nonetheless it’s not a missed shot by any means. Under its flaws there is a sense of novelty remarkable in this stage of her career, a director now 72 years old.

5 out of 10

Bibi Andersson || Persona (1966)

[Directed by Ingmar Bergman]

Earlier this week we have been braced with the devastating news of the death of the legendary actress Bibi Andersson. She is best known for her long collaboration with director Ingmar Bergman with whom she had made approximately twelve films. Andersson is responsible to the introduction of Liv Ullmann to Bergman, and therefore responsible for what is one of the most legendary collaborations in the history of cinema. Even though the spotlight is often on Ullmann, Bibi Andersson is the original muse of the director, and works as a strong homogenous figure in Bergman’s early work, only later her figure being noticeable as a “lighthearted” contrast to what was the “severity” of Liv Ullmann, especially on the masterpiece that is Persona.

Every film lover knows Persona. But it is also true that no one can truly deconstruct and interpret the film in what may be considered a “right way”. This is a film that is meant to work on a level that differs from our usual cinematic experiences. Most of this is due to the way both characters interact and the work of metamorphosis between the two. While, as mentioned before, Liv Ullmann plays the patient, an actress that is both austere and troubled, Bibi Andersson plays a deeply humane but also troubled nurse. While both performances are incredibly layered and dynamic, we are mostly guided by the eyes of nurse Alma in her quest to heal Elizabeth Vogler, that quickly turns into a therapy for her own troubles. The humanity and sincerity of Andersson’s performance brings to the film something for the viewer to relate to, something that is essential for Bergman’s work to function correctly in order to not transform into something completely obtuse and abstract. She is the perfect counterpart that bridges the complex states of mind and the complex artistic pretensions of the film into our everyday lives, creating in the end one of the most unheimlich experiences one can have with a film.

Bibi Andersson is the light of our everyday lives fading in the world of Bergman’s cinema. She brought reality and sensibility to films that would feel too cold and distant to be as relevant as they are today. This week we lost one of the big faces of Swedish cinema, and she will surely be remembered as one of the absolute icons of the history of film. We leave a list below of our favourite films she made part of. Bibi Andersson will not be forgotten.

The List:

Sommarnattens leende [Smiles of a Summer Night] (1955)
Det sjunde inseglet [The Seventh Seal] (1957)
Smultronstället [Wild Strawberries] (1957)
Djävulens öga [The Devil's Eye] (1960)
Syskonbädd 1782 [My Sister, My Love] (1966)
Persona (1966)
Flickorna [The Girls] (1968)
En passion [A Passion] (1969)
Scener ur ett äktenskap [Scenes from a Marriage] (1974)
An Enemy of the People (1978)
Quintet (1979)

The Fire Within (1963)

(original title: Le Feu Follett)

Directed by Louis Malle

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“One day I realised I’d spent my life waiting. For women. Money. Action. So I drank myself stupid.”

Louis Malle is a French director that started his career amidst the Nouvelle Vague movement. Despite not being a full front figure like Jean Luc Godard, Alain Resnais or the recently late Agnes Varda, he has a personal style and sensibility that make him, in my opinion, an underrated director in the French scene. His first full feature is Ascenseur pour l’échafaud (1958), a noir masterpiece, displaying a suffocating and almost despairing feel with the brilliance of his night Paris shots. This in alliance with a stellar original soundtrack by the jazz great Miles Davis make for an almost perfect debut as a director. Throughout his career he would tackle difficult and polemic themes like Nazi collaboration (Lacombe Lucien (1974) ) or incestuous relationships (Le souffle au cœur (1971) ). His own World War II experience would serve as the theme for Au revoir les enfants (1987), a powerful film about a catholic school that hides Jewish children from Nazi persecution.

With Le Feu Follett, Malle focuses once again in very sensitive topics, like depression, addiction and especially on suicide. The story follows Alain Leroy (Maurice Ronet), a 30-year-old writer with alcoholic problems as he leaves the rehabilitation clinic in Paris. This service was played by his ex-wife, who now lives away from him in New York. To verify the success of the treatment, she sends one of Alain’s old female acquaintances Lydia (Léna Skerla) to check up on him. His doctor (Jean-Paul Moulinot) assures him that he is completely cured, and all is good now. Despite all the positive feedback from the outside Alain cannot help but feel disenchanted with the prospects of his future. Though the film we see him visit some old friends and catching up with their current lives in the present. For instance, as his comrade Dubourg (Bernard Noël) now dedicates his life to Egyptology and marriage, Eva (Jeanne Moreau) wastes her time with drug users. In another scene we see Alain dine with Solange (Alexandra Stewart) and her wealthy and reactionary friends. There is a feeling of resentment by Alain against his friends as if they are no longer the same as they were in their youth. As if in some way, their juvenile ideals were betrayed and transformed exactly on what was promised to fight against.

“It’s not feelings of anxiety, it’s a single feeling of constant anxiety”

Despite the constant presence of friends and acquaintances, Alain feels more alone than ever. Deep inside he feels truly displaced in this world and questions the bourgeois life that his friends live. In his small room questions the meaning of his existence and if he should just end it. The addiction leaves him with constant questioning of his abilities as a writer and even his notions of manhood, mainly because of the power and dependence that his ex-wife still has on him.

Maurice Ronet, who worked with Malle before in Ascenseur pour l’échafaud (1958) does an astonishing job in this film. With a profound sense of calmness, he wanders through Paris narrating his thoughts in an eloquent manner. Malle use of handheld cameras give a more personal and closer feel as we feel as if we walk along with Alain. Along with the minimalistic notes of piano composed by Erik Satie there is a bittersweet tone to the relation between the viewer and the protagonist. In his head he made up his mind and he is tired of waiting for something that gives meaning to his life. Despite that, what may feel as a self-imposed fatalism is something very hard to understand to those not experienced with depression or addition problems. Alain seems like the kind of men that has nothing against him. With a good figure, intelligent and well-dressed what does he needs more? He has lots of friends and women that want to spend the night with him but regardless of that he is extremely unhappy with his life.

Malle, born into a wealthy industrialist family surely took a lot of his own thoughts and experiences into this work. Inspired by the writter Pierre Drieu la Rochelle (who ended up committing suicide) and his novel Will O’ the Wisp (1931), Malle gives an honest and well needed take on both mental issues and the problematics of contemporary society. Alain is in short, a profoundly alone person mainly because people lack the understanding of his real problems. Depression works not only on sadness and poor mood but especially the lack or misplacement of feelings. The true sadness of the film lies on not the decisions made by Alain but how poorly the others could view his problems. Maybe it was shame or pure hopelessness, but Alain seemed to others like a functional human being. If the viewer did not have access to his thoughts would them also view him as a man in the brink of suicide?

The Wild Pear Tree (2019)

(original title: Ahlat Agaci)

Directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan

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“Everyone has their own temperament. The thing is being able to accept and like it.”

The “new” (premiered in 2018’s Cannes Film Festival) film by the critically acclaimed Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan is again a huge work in size. And again, Ceylan presents us a massive picture that feels even more entrancing than his previous film Winter Sleep (2014). The similarities between both films are obvious, as they both tell stories of writers. However, The Wild Pear Tree is way more accessible than Winter Sleep (2014) and more irreverent at the same time. Sadly, it does not quite hold up against the director’s best (most notably Once Upon A Time In Anatolia (2008) and Distant (2002) ), following some of the same small issues present in the 2014 film. This is, however, not a reason to dismiss the film, because even a lesser Nuri Bilge Ceylan film is still a way more interesting experience than most.

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The filmography of the director is notorious for having two specific characteristics: he is one of the big names associated with the so called “Slow Cinema”, and his films are incredibly wordy and verborraic at the same time. In The Wild Pear Tree this last characteristic is even more noticeable, with the “slow” and transcendental aspect feeling that it was put to side, and, when exercised, feeling a bit forced and out of tone. The film follows Sinan (Dogu Demirkol), a young writer that has finished his education to be a primary school teacher like his father. He is also working on publishing a book he wrote, and most of the first part of the film follows his struggle in finding money to be able to do it. This is the main situation we are presented with the main character, but the film, since the beginning, has an intense focus on the relationship between Sinan and his father Idris (Murat Cemcir), who is a man caught in a downward spiral of gambling and unmesurable debt.

Despite the film mainly following Sinan and his interactions with many of the townsfolk, and even a famous writer, it is on the father-son dynamic presented that the film truly shines. The character development of Sinan, while honest and relatable, is never biased in trying to depict him as a truly well-meant individual at all. His father is depicted with some really harsh situations as well. However, their personalities are completely different. The evolution of the story is one that is settled on the idea that both these characters are antagonistic, and ends with the most incredible note of transcendental family bonding energy that completely disrupts all the insistence on creating such opposite characters.

Idris, a truly incredible performance by Murat Cemcir

The problem with The Wild Pear Tree when comparing it with other Ceylan films is that this time Ceylan feels that is touching on much more coloquial and generic themes, and unsuccesfully trying to elevate them all at the same time. It is a weirdly paced film, with scenes that range from the themes of death and religion to relationships and love, sometimes presenting them with no apparent connection to each other. Sadly, it also doesn’t always succeed on being truly poignant in the portrayal of a lot of these themes, with the noticeable exception being the depicted problems regarding family dynamics. The film being dialogue driven does not help it in achieving the poetic intensity of his previous films as well, despite turning the film into a more enjoyable and quickly relatable experience to the viewer. It makes some of its scenes feel like they are too predictable, and some of the “funny moments” in the film feel odd in the overall picture. The idea of quickly cutting scenes that are supposedly happening in the characters minds or in dreams do not always work as well, and do not go well at all with the also stylistic and expected “slow” style of the director.

“Someone once called time a silent saw. You never know what it’ll do to us.”

That said, the conclusion of the film will leave you with unforgiving anxiety. Ceylan shows us with scenes like these why he is one of the most lyrical filmmakers out there, despite sadly going off the rails in The Wild Pear Tree. The odd pacing of the film is distracting and almost unforgivable to a director that already made so many great things. The visual aspect of the film is top notch, especially the scenes in winter time, but even regarding this, sometimes the digital camera seems to not be able to capture as well some of the scenes as it should. The soundtrack is unnexpectedly great and one of the best yet in his filmography. However, while not being as problematic in some of the aforementioned aspects as Winter Sleep (2014) was, The Wild Pear Tree is still not the hyper comeback we were expecting, despite having one of the most cathartic closures in any of Ceylan’s films. It is a frustatingly imperfect film with a lot of incredible singular scenes. But for some of those scenes alone and the incredible depiction of the relationship between Sinan and Idris, The Wild Pear Tree is still a film to look out for.

7 out of 10