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

A far better than average early film from the Val Lewton unit, The Leopard Man is as much murder mystery as horror picture. It is set in a New Mexico town where there are some weird goings on, including, among other things, big cat attacks. The photography is exceptional, moving from subjective to documentary-style objective without drastically altering the tone of the picture. What horror there is comes more from a sense of dread than anything that actually happens; also from the eerie feeling that certain places are unlucky, that some people are bound to die simply because of where they are. How true.

The star players are somewhat dull, but the supporting cast is quite good. And the merging and sometime colliding of the Anglo, Hispanic and Indian cultures is nicely presented. There is a sense of primitive feeling, of old religion, throughout the film, implied rather than stated, that is beyond the grasp of the hyper-rational lead players. We can catch this mood in fits and starts, but like the major characters, it eludes our grasp. Jacques Tourneur's direction is masterful every step of the way; and he uses music sensually yet emphatically, and the result is a fine-tuned film. It's major flaw is the revelation of the culprit, yet once Tourneur accepted the script's limitations he works superbly within them. The best thing about the movie is that its most crucial events happen mostly off-screen, leaving a good deal to our imaginations. And the minimalist script leaves a great deal in the dark, and even after the picture's florid, almost surreal climax, the air of mystery lingers. There are loose ends for sure, but Tourneur's polite, civilized touch dresses them up to appear profound and suggestive rather than threadbare, and the result is a pleasing conclusion that does not quite give the whole thing away; and we are left wanting to know just a little bit more. Tourneur was a true master.

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 ****

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.

The escape of nightclub performer's leopard is followed by a series of mutilations--but are these the work of the leopard or of a serial killer stalking a small southwestern town? Although not one of producer Val Lewton's better known films, director Tourner endows the story with considerable atmosphere, and the result is a moody and intriguing film that holds it own with the more celebrated CAT PEOPLE and I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE.

Like other Lewton films, THE LEOPARD MAN relies more upon what it suggests than upon what it actually shows. This film is particularly effective in building suspense in a series of scenes that show various characters walking--a saucy Spanish dancer strolling along the street, a frightened teenager making a night-time trip to the grocer, a young woman rushing through a cemetery at night. The cinematography is elegant in its simplicity, and the sound design is quite remarkable. Hard to find, but Lewton fans will find it worth seeking out.

Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer