Filmmakers, especially those working the cheaper end of the spectrum, often had bad titles thrust upon them. Sometimes the title and marketing came first and the screenplay, casting, and directors were almost afterthoughts.
But there are some pretty terrific movies hidden under bad titles. I Married a Monster from Outer Space is a well crafted tale suffused with sexual paranoia and angst. The Incredible Shrinking Man may be director Jack Arnold's best, an existential classic. Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill! is a frenetic rock and roll fever dream driven by sexually assertive women and fast cars.
In the 1940s, RKO Studios assigned producer Val Lewton to produce a series of low budget horror movies to compete with Universal Studios popular monsters. His first effort, The Cat People, was a success, so RKO demanded a sequel. The title Curse of the Cat People was imposed on him, but beyond that, Lewton was left alone to craft the movie. The end result is my favorite Val Lewton film and my favorite Christmas movie.
(Spoilers) For those of you not familiar with the original (shame on you!), immigrant Irena Dubrovna falls in love with engineer Oliver Reed. Their marriage falls apart because, when aroused, she turns into a murderous panther. The story ends tragically with her death.
Years later, Reed has married his coworker Alice Moore and they have a six year old daughter, Amy. Amy is a strange child, immersed in fantasy and struggling to cope with the real world. Her attempts to make friends fail and she winds up befriending a lonely old lady who lives down the street. The woman, a former stage actress has her own troubles with reality and fuels Amy's fantasies. She gives her a ring, which her family butler tells her is a "wishing ring." Amy uses it to wish for a friend.
Here the movie takes an eerie left turn. Amy is greeted in her back yard by a beautiful woman (played perfectly by Simone Signoret), draped in elegant furs and silk, WHO TURNS OUT TO BE HER DAD'S DEAD CAT WOMAN EX-WIFE. Her parents can't see Irena, but are relieved to see her playing happily in the snow.
When Amy tries to return the ring, the crazy old lady rewards her with an intense re-telling of the Headless Horseman story. This leads to nightmares, after which her ghost step-mother emerges from the shadows of her bedroom to comfort her. The next day, Amy finds a picture of Irena and insist to her father it is her new friend. He punishes Amy for her daydreaming and sends her to bed sobbing. Once again, Irena appears and tells Amy that she has to leave, because she is worried she is causing problems for her with her family. She vanishes and Amy follows her out into a blizzard, calling out for her friend to come back.
What follows is a harrowing series of events, masterfully directed and edited by first time director Robert Wise. Eventually she is rescued and reunited with her father, who apologizes and promises to accept her fantasy life. As they are taking her back into the house, Amy turns once more and sees Irena, glittering in the snow, waving goodbye to her.
Curse of the Cat People is first and foremost, a lyrical and touching view of childhood that spares sentimentality in favor of a harsh, psychological framework founded in reality. Amy is clearly a disturbed child, although her alienation is gentle and achingly sad. The spectre of Irena, possibly sent from beyond the grave by a love for Oliver that endures, is a figure of light, love, and healing. Her father, still haunted by his first wife's tragic obsession with an ancient legend, refuses to tolerate his daughter's flights of fantasy. With all that, Curse of the Cat People follows a familiar and ancient Christmas story template of damaged families finding renewal and love during the holiday season.
Lewton, when assigned to compete with Universal Studios' Frankenstein, Dracula, and Mummy movies, chose to take a different route. He chose to present literate and modern takes on horror, relying on suggestion and mood, rather than gruesome makeup and blood and thunder. He was greatly aided in this by cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca, who created a shadowy, noirish environment that enveloped characters and created dread and menace that was disturbing and unsettling. I've discussed his trailblazing role in Lewton's films and Film Noir overall in a previous post.
It's impossible to imagine a story as nuanced and offbeat as Curse of the Cat People coming off the Universal Studios assembly line of the 1940s. Even the knock-offs from the other studios - Return of the Vampire (Columbia) or The Mad Monster (PRC) - closely followed the Universal formula. The idea of examining serious themes and adult issues in a horror film was almost unheard of at the time, but Lewton did it over and over again.
What's Christmas without a nice, chilling ghost story?