L'Homme-léopard

Horror producer supreme Val Lewton teams up for the third and last time with director Jacques Tourneur to bring us The Leopard Man. Set in New Mexico, the story sees Jerry Manning (Dennis O'Keefe) hire a black leopard as a publicity stunt for his night-club performing partner, Kiki (Jean Brooks). Her rival, Clo Clo (Margo), is not impressed and promptly scares the animal into running away into the night. Pretty soon there is a panic looking as the cat appears to be mauling people to death. However, Manning & Kiki, driven by guilt, join the hunt for the rogue animal - but Manning is starting to believe the killings are not of the animal's doing...

Based on the book "Black Alibi" written by Cornell Woolrich, The Leopard Man's only crime is that it's not as great as its two predecessors, Cat People & I Walked With A Zombie. Rest assured, though, this is still a quality Lewton/Tourneur production. As a story it's simple and straight, with a running time of just over one hour keeping it lean and devoid of pointless waffle, but the piece positively thrives on its atmosphere - dealing as it does in murky shadows and unease inducing periods of silence. It also boasts a number of sequences that linger long in the memory, be it blood seeping under a door, the bend of a tree branch, or the dark under belly of a railway bridge, for such a short sharp shock of a movie there's so much to enjoy. The work of cinematographer Robert De Grasse (Vivacious Lady/The Body Snatcher) is top class and worthy of indulgence from the film noir loving crowd.

What you don't see is more effective on account of the eerie sense of dread that Messrs Lewton/Tourneur/De Grasse have built up. A fine film and proof positive that classic spookers could be made from relatively small budgets. 7/10

Jerry Manning (Dennis O'Keefe) decides to build some PR for his girlfriend's act by having her walk into the bistro where she performs with a black leopard on a leash. Her rival, Clo-Clo, retaliates by getting close to the leopard and clicking her castanets. The leopard is scared, pulls free of Kiki, and runs off.

Later that night, a girl coming home from the grocery store is mauled and killed by the leopard. Then two more mauling deaths occur - one a young girl, one a young woman. The leopard's owner, Charlie How-Come, says that he can't figure out why the leopard would kill the second and third victims rather than hide out away from the town. Manning agrees with him, and they search for the truth of what is happening in these maulings.

This film is full of brief but indelible little characterizations tangential to the storyline. There's so often an emphasis on the primitive, uncontrollable sides of our nature, that gives a deeper feeling to the sometimes over-busy plotting.

There's some strange characterization going on here too, For example, the first victim is a victim precisely because she has the world's worst mom. First she sends the girl out late at night to get groceries, and then when she returns, terrified because the leopard is after her, mom teases her and won't unlock the front door. Mom's mood and sense of urgency doesn't change until she hears the girl scream and sees her blood pool under the front door. And mom has the nerve to wear black at the funeral.

Is Jacques Tourneur the laziest director ever? He let the audience do all the work. At least he did when making little suspense programmers under producer Val Lewton, who headed RKO's second-feature unit in the wartime 1940s. Hamstrung by parsimonious budgets, they racked their brains for ways to make their movies look good and pack a wallop. Their solutions proved inspired, resulting in a string of classics – The Cat People, The Leopard Man, I Walked With A Zombie – that still rank among the moodiest, most memorable fright-films ever made (with different directors, Lewton oversaw The Seventh Victim and other distinctive works in the same vein). With The Leopard Man, Tourneur was handed a script that showed little promise; when he was finished with it, it shone with his distinctive black magic. That magic was to suggest rather than to show; to plant seeds in viewers' imaginations and let them grow.

In a sleepy New Mexico town that somehow supports a posh night club, publicity man Dennis O'Keefe gets an idea to promote an act by arranging for the star (Jean Brooks) to make a grand entrance with a big black leopard on a leash. The cat escapes – and soon the deaths begin.

First a girl sent out into the night to fetch cornmeal for mama's tortillas finds the corner store closed and must venture further afield. Tumbleweeds stirred up by the dry winds and trains hurtling over trellises are unnerving enough, but then something else starts its pursuit. She almost makes it back safely but the lock is stuck....

Next another young woman sets off in late afternoon for an assignation with her boyfriend at the cemetery. When he doesn't show, she loses track of time and improvidently finds herself locked in among the gravestones and statuary....

A posse sets out to find and kill the leopard, but O'Keefe begins to doubt whether the killer is in fact feline. It's in the resolution (based on a story by Cornell Woolrich) that the script ultimately disappoints, but the trip to it remains a dark ride. Those minuscule budgets didn't compromise the movie's decadently glossy looks, and the extraordinary Roy Webb's castanet-ridden score keeps the tension taut (one high, sustained, almost pianissimo chord hangs over the cemetery scene). The mistress of the castanets, a cabaret dancer called Clo-Clo, is an actress called Margo; the ace of spades keeps turning up in her fortune. Her performance lends The Leopard Man what little heart it shows.

I think 'The Leopard Man' is the most memorable and frightening of the three Lewton-Tourneur collaborations. While it may be more straightforward than 'I Walked With a Zombie' or 'Cat People,' it's more atmospheric and more effective because its chills are predicated on agoraphobic horror. 'I Walked With a Zombie' was confined to a tropical island setting, while 'The Leopard Man' takes place in a New Mexico border town, on the edge of town, so that we travel along the desolate and wide open spaces of the sleepy Southwest at nighttime.

Early in the film, a young Mexican girl is sent on a late-night errand by her mother to buy some tortilla. Being that the shop is closed, she must traverse the sandy expanse between town and the nearest open shop. During this trek, she must pass under a bridge, and the shadows and sounds that stalk her are terrifying. Recalling this scene, right now, gives me goosebumps.

Horror is the most cinematic of all genres, because it works directly on the viewer's emotions and fears, using atmosphere, sound, and montage as its tools. Most horror films are either exploitative or slick and empty, unfortunately, but to watch 'The Leopard Man' is to encounter the full potential of the horror genre, as Tourneur paints with shadows and not entrails. Forgive its plot holes and its lunkheaded denouement, because the journey there is a hair-raising walk in the dark.

Slimly-plotted but handsomely-produced second-biller about an escaped leopard in a small dirt town in New Mexico that may be the cause of several horrific deaths...or maybe not! Intriguing premise given stylish film-noir treatment. Performances are solid, and Jacques Tourneur's crafty direction allows viewers to see just enough before fading to black. Val Lewton produced, giving the proceedings his customary spooky polish; Roy Webb's background score is predictably dramatic, though the intermittent use of dead silence is even more effective (and the castanets were a nice touch). Story tails off near the end, but film is still a minor gem. Fantastically atmospheric and fun. Based on the book "Black Alibi" by Cornell Woolrich. *** from ****