A newcomer to a Catholic prep high school falls in with a trio of outcast teenage girls who practice witchcraft and they all soon conjure up various spells and curses against those who even slightly anger them.
The Egyptian vampire lady Miriam subsists upon the blood of her lovers. In return the guys or girls don't age... until Miriam has enough of them. Unfortunately that's currently the case ... See full summary »
The Cat People originated way back in time, when humans sacrificed their women to leopards, who mated with them. Cat People look similar to humans, but must mate with other Cat People before they transform into panthers. Irene Gallier was raised by adoptive parents and meets her older brother Paul for the first time since childhood. We follow brother and sister - who seem to be the only ones of their kind left. Written by
Colin Tinto <email@example.com>
The Oliver character in this movie that is played by John Heard was played by Kent Smith in the original Cat People (1942) and its sequel The Curse of the Cat People (1944). Both characters' have the same first name, but in the original movie and its sequel, the character was called Oliver Reed. This represents an instance where a character name was the same name as a real famous person, in this case, actor Oliver Reed. But this is retrospective as actor Reed was only a boy when the original film and its sequel were released. However, because of this similarity with the famous actor, the Oliver character was called Oliver Yates for this remake. In The Curse of the Cat People (1944), the character was credited as Oliver 'Ollie' Reed. See more »
When Irena and Alice are in the bar, the ice in their drinks does not float, nor is there any condensation on the glasses, which probably indicates that "prop ice" is being used. See more »
Despite having been young, semi-conscious (I was under five years old) and possessing few actual memories of the nineteen eighties, the decade has a certain personal eroticism for me. The powdery skin, shimmering camera-work, the outrageous kink and camp of the clothing, the archetypal section of dim-minded actresses performing with the joyful vacant-eyed faces of children: these all stir my heart. The film Cat People was a smarter film when compared to too much of the artistic output of the nineteen eighties but it also suffered from the strangeness of the times. First of all, Nastassja Kinski has a sublime beauty that would attract in any decade but was especially characteristic of ideal notions of sexiness for those years. Her eyebrow were that exquisite Madonna-esquire thick, her lips in a permanent state of partial openness with full-on pout, her hair cut to that boyish cute, and her shoulder pads speaking volumes about her feminine authority. Even her cat-like demeanor, connected to the premise of the film, was equivalent to popular depictions of women as sex kittens. In essence, her performances in the film can be interpreted as one of the finest expressions of the nineteen eighties soft-lit, softcore pornographic aesthetic.
Secondly, as a horror film, it managed to offer moments of decent creepiness in the vein of the times. Fear, of course, has been a universal and timeless emotion yet it can be provoked in a manner reflective of the era. The Germans of centuries ago used grim and blood-spattered folk tales to frighten, director Paul Schrader used shadow. Shadows were such a magnificent aspect of the nineteen eighties aesthetic because their perfect in lockstep with the soft-lit light (consider the Vogue video). Schrader employed shadows in an eerie manner that kept the viewer guessing, achieving what few horror directors actual get from their audiences: fearful concern about what was in the dark. Consider two scenes: when Malcolm McDowell lunges from the shadows as the beast and when Nastassja Kinski has a passion moment in that darkened room. Schrader brilliance was to make the shadow both fearful and erotic: the dark has been traditional as fear-provoker and yet can be quite intimate as well. In mixing the two emotions successfully, Schrader made the film a unique creature for the horror genre.
Third, that soundtrack Giorgio Moroder and Bowie crafted must be one of the strangest in the history of film. Starting off on a campy note, the music over the reddish desert of the first scene ought to make a person either laugh or weep but it does get better. Listen to it; it goes with the images on screen like magic.
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