One may recall that there was a video “format war” similar
to that between VHS and Betamax back in the late 1970s and 80s, this time
during the 2000s between Blu-ray and HD-DVD. Although I’ve been an early
adopter of digital entertainment media—I purchased one of those Creative Nomad
Jukebox mp3 players for $500 (and soon regretted doing so) in 2000—I was
somewhat suspicious of the new “high-definition” video discs, because of their
price and title selection (mostly new films I didn’t like), and because I
didn’t want to commit to one or the other. I suspected that Blu-ray was the
superior format; I also remembered that they said this about the Betamax format
as well.
But one day early in 2008 I was walking in an electronics
store wondering what to do with my tax refund. I started scanning the more
limited number of titles in the HD-DVD section just out of curiosity, and I
discovered something that wasn’t in the Blu-ray section: The 1982 Universal
remake of Cat People. In HD! It was
impossible for me to pass that up. I purchased it even though I didn’t have the
hardware to play it, just to have it. Against my better judgment I decided I
should purchase an HD-DVD player even though by then it was a dying format, and
Cat People would be one of the last
titles that HD-DVD’s strongest supporter, Universal, would release on it.
After Universal bailed on the format and announced that it
would soon release titles on Blu-ray, I expected that Cat People would be among its initial releases, but this was not
the case. I purchased a few more HD-DVD titles out of the bargain bins, but the
player eventually died, and although Blu-ray lasers can play the HD-DVD format,
just as it can standard DVDs and CDs—computer optical drives certainly—there
seems to be no motivation to license the software to do so. When it was
announced last September that Shout! Factory licensed the film from Universal,
I counted the days until Cat People
was finally released on Blu-ray this past January 21.
Why Universal delayed releasing this film itself is hard to
understand, since the source material it provided Shout for release on its
subsidiary Scream! Factory is apparently the same as it used for its HD-DVD
release. No pristine print seems to have been available, and digital noise
reduction is used throughout to fill-in the heavy grain, often making texture
seem “soft” on anything other than extreme close-ups. Nevertheless, the video
(and audio) transfer is noticeably superior to the DVD release.
Now, I suppose some people might wonder why this was one of
the first films I thought of for my “must own” Blu-ray collection. I can’t
explain it. Well, maybe I can. The 1982 remake of the 1942 classic was billed
as an “erotic horror thriller,” with greater emphasis on the “erotic” part. In
that sense the remake has only surface detail in common with the original. The
first Irena came from a village in Serbia, a community that practiced a
“religion” of a satanic nature involving cats, eventually becoming the kind of
animal/human changelings typical of strange Old World locales that produced many
a movie monster. In the remake, they are simply a mysterious
race from a mysterious world. Both have a “love triangle,” but its composition
is different (unlike in the original, the updated Alice is an overly protective
friend of Oliver, while Irena’s brother Paul is the third“ angle”), and of
course there is the pool scene—although the original is more chilling, since it
is shot in black and white, which makes the shadows dancing from the pool water
onto the walls more ghoulish.
The remake doesn’t pull any punches—in fact telegraphs them
a mile away; there is no “mystery” or secrets for the audience. In the
original, Oliver believes that Irena is suffering from mental delusions, and
eventually that she is possibly a psychotic killer; only at the end does he
realize that she “never lied” about her fears about herself and their
relationship. Thus the original puts more emphasis on mystery and psychological
terror. I happen to enjoy both versions on their own merits, but it shouldn’t
be surprising that “purists” hated the remake, while fans of the remake who are unfamiliar
with the original would find the latter dull and incomprehensible.
Of course, the principle attraction in the remake is
Nastassja Kinski, who is no great beauty but exudes a certain taboo “it.” It is not quite clear the origins of her
character, as she speaks “American” as if she has marbles in her mouth, but
like the original Irena her “people” maintain human form unless they make love
to a human being, after which they transform into panthers and kill their human
lovers. In the original film, French actress Simone Simon was able to convey a
number of conflicting personas convincingly, whether it was provoking empathy,
menace or a suppressed sexuality. Kinski doesn’t inspire much “menace” in the
remake, in fact what violence that she is responsible for seems so
out-of-character as to induce confusion (if not amusement). But what she does
convey well is a certain vulnerability that lends itself to vicarious
identification for certain viewers—one that promises something more at the
right time and place.
It is hard to explain the “attraction” of the film itself,
except to say that it was unlike anything I had seen before, or since. Propelled
by Giorgio Moroder’s mesmerizing synthesizer-driven soundtrack, you were placed
in a world between two planes of existence, a world that, as the mysterious
Femolle informs Irena, “is what men think it is,” but is something more
sinister in reality. But repressed carnality is the underlying theme of the
film. The whole film centers around whether Irena would accept fate and “mate”
with Paul (Malcolm McDowell), or give in to her love for Oliver (John
Heard)—knowing that she might be forced to kill him afterwards. No film I have
ever seen was driven by this kind of sustained sexual tension, “helped” along
by frequent female nudity. In fact, the only female character who didn’t appear
in some form of undress was Femolle, played by Ruby Dee; she was 58 at the
time, and she was apparently the only female that director Paul Schrader didn’t
cast for that reason.
They don’t make films like this anymore, of course. Back in
the day, it was for “art” or what a scene “called” for; now it is to “shock,”
or to suggest a move to an “adult” persona. The late 1970s and early 1980s were
a “golden age” for mainstream “anything goes” films. Even films that seem to be
targeted for the teenage audience had something for the “adult” audience. But things
change. It amazes me how the audience has changed, particularly since the 1970s
when television characters in sitcoms looked funny, and even the stars in “serious”
crime shows looked and acted “eccentric.” Can you imagine a television detective
series starring a 300-pound actor? That was William Conrad in “Cannon,” and it
was a hit show. You had guys in wheelchairs, “cowboys” making mischief in the
big city, and 70-year-olds coming out of retirement to corral criminals. Those were
the days when actors actually had personality and character, people “ordinary”
couch potatoes could identify with.
Today what you have is Ken and Barbies who might talk smart-alecky
lines which are “cool” to certain demographics, but they have no personality
aside from snobbism and narcissism. They won’t “do” certain things that French
actress Sophie Marceau called “seducing the audience.” Back in the day, you knew what to expect in an “R” rated
movie; today, it’s for “language” or “drug references”—things that would have been
common enough in “PG” films 35 years ago (the 1978 “family” film Ice Castles was practically a primer on
foul language for the kiddies). Thus I find myself pining for the old days, and
Cat People certainly brought back
memories of a certain kind that seem taboo now in this puritanical,
self-conscious age.
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