In Val Lewton films, there’s always at least one scene that sticks in the mind. ‘The Isle of the Dead’ features the awakening of a body buried in a casket, in the ‘Body Snatchers’, we have the unforgettable finale. Here we have several , including the increasingly distraught teenage girl returning home, pounding at the door of her home with her mother heartlessly refusing to let her in – followed by silence, and the spreading of a pool of blood beneath the closed door.
Charlie (Abner Biberman) is nice, he likes his big cat. It earns him a good living and he clearly adores it. Alongside the animal itself, he is ‘The Leopard Man’s most likeable character. Dennis O’Keefe is a good leading man. Sad-eyed Jean Brooks plays Kiki Walker. Only the maracas-playing Clo-Clo (Margo) annoys – her jealousy that the cat would steal her thunder and her teasing of the animal causes killings and other unfortunate events to spiral, yet she shows no sign of giving a darn – until she gets her comeuppance, that is.
The implication of a man/leopard hybrid is completely absent in the story – in fact the revelation the feline has been dead before some of the killings take place, and that the murderer is a mere human, is a little disappointing (only the trailer implied a lycanthropic plotline). It’s true to say this is not Lewton’s most effective production: the modern day setting is less suggestive of gothic flavour than other, period pieces. Having said that, he and Director Jacques Tourneur ensure there are some chilling set-pieces, my favourite being the sombre funeral procession, with murmuring, candle-holding mourners making their way across a barren, windswept studio set, led by black robed lamenters.
The last of Jacques Tourneur's trilogy of B horrors made with Val Lewton at RKO is an early film about a serial killer, based on a Cornell Woolrich's thriller. A travelling showgirl (Jean Brooks) in New Mexico uses a leopard (it's actually the panther from Cat People!) in her act on the insistence of her publicity manager (Dennis O'Keefe). When it goes missing, this small community fears that the cat is responsible for a series of grisly deaths. O'Keefe has other suspicions.
There are so many haunting scenes in The Leopard Man. When a girl goes to buy cornmeal on the other side of town, she is swallowed up in the darkness of the underpass, which feels like the locus of her emerging adolescent fears. When she returns to her mother's locked door she is savaged by, something... As the parent frantically unlocks the door to her child, blood copiously tracks along the cracks in the floor.
A Mexican dancer Clo-Clo (played by 'Margo') seems to be cursed. As she walks through the town people she interacts with will die; seemingly rent apart by the escaped cat. The construction of the film is unusual, the narrative continually diverting to the stories of others who intersect with Clo-Clo, which end in death. The film creates a powerful impression of an inexorable, malevolent fate.
But when the real killer is revealed, that illusion of destiny disappears. The deaths have no motive. We can have little knowledge of the forces that control our lives. They are unfathomable. The Leopard Man creates a pessimistic, noirish world where people enter into the darkness from which they may be released. Or maybe not.