The Joker in The Lost Continent (1951)

 

The Lost Continent (1951) is an unfairly maligned Lost World story starring Cesar Romero, today best remembered for creating the definitive (no arguing) version of Batman’s arch-nemesis, The Joker.

Romero plays Major John Nolan, the officer in charge of leading the expedition to recovery the data recorder from an atomic-powered rocket lost during a test flight. Nolan takes off with co-pilot and embittered former WW II comrade-in-arms, Lt. Daniel Wilson (Chick Chandler), and comic relief mechanic, Sgt. Willie Tatlow (Sid Melton). In tow are the scientists in charge of the rocket; its Russian designer, Dr. Michael Rostov (John Hoyt), the introspective Dr. Stanley Briggs (Whit Bissell) and the always chipper Dr. Robert Phillips (Hugh Beaumont), whose job is to carry the Geiger counter to track the rocket’s radioactive signature¹.

 

Hugh Beaumont, Sid Melton, John Hoyt, Chick Chandler, Whit Bissell, and Romero

Of course their plane crashes on an island in the middle of the South Pacific. They quickly meet a native (Acquanetta) who tells them that the rest of her people have fled because their gods are angry that a great ‘fire bird’ has landed on the top of their sacred mountain. Ascending to the plateau, our team finds a green-tinted prehistoric world populated with some not-too-badly animated dinosaurs. The boys battle a Brontosaurus and a couple of Triceratops before they reach their goal and escape as the whole island explodes.

Acquanetta and Romero

The Lost Continent script pretty much hews to the basic plot of every Lost World movie, and if you read the on-line reviews, you’d assume that that it is just another badly made B movie not worthy of your time. But, I’m here to at least softly praise its good points. The first being that as someone who has actually been on expeditions to exotic locales to find dinosaurs, albeit fossilized and not – alas – living ones², I found the movie quite engaging, with many elements ringing truer than many bigger budget films.

Most scientific expeditions run relatively smoothly. They are organized and executed by professionals who know what they’re doing and hold the goals of the endeavor AND the safety of the crew in the upmost importance. However, there are times when despite your best plans you find yourself under the leadership of someone who puts their personal goals ahead of the safety of the team.

This is the circumstance that our search party find themselves in once they crash land on the island³. Major Nolan immediately marches them off to find the missing rocket. When someone suggests that they should see if the plane’s radio is still working, Nolan cuts him off by saying that they are under orders to maintain radio silence until they complete their mission. Hmmm. With their plane destroyed, Briggs injured and no supplies, wouldn’t it be a good idea to see if the radio works? If it’s dead, how is Nolan planning to arrange to be picked up even if they find the rocket? Nolan’s actions suggest that he’s on a personal suicide mission and doesn’t care who he takes down with him. 

Romero and Chandler

 

From his conversations with his buddy, Wilson, we learn that, like him, Nolan’s traumatic war experiences have soured him on the military. One can imagine a post-war scenario where a lack of jobs and an inability to fit back into civilian life has sent him back to the only thing he understands, the military. In such a scenario, Nolan can then be interpreted as a film noir ‘anti-hero’ driven to destruction in an effort to lash out at the institution/woman he loved, but who dumped him into a concentration camp for his devotion. The opening scene of the movie re-enforces Nolan’s frustration with the military. A rare opportunity to enjoy a romantic interlude with Marla Stevens (Hillary Brooks) is coarsely interrupted by a summons from his bosses to go find the rocket. Nolan’s frustration with life and the military in particular, bubbles through Romero’s portrayal of the character. Like every film noir anti- hero, Nolan is bound by the heartless regulations of a game from which he can’t break free. Artist Mark (Xenozoic) Schultz had this to add during our recent discussion of the film,

"Nolan is not only a solidly Noir protagonist, but the fatalistic tone of the entire movie places it squarely in the Noir genre. The cataclysmic ending is echoed in Kiss Me Deadly. Noir expert Eddie Muller suggests that non-crime genres, such as SF, do not belong in the film noir canon, but I would argue that noir should be most significantly defined by nihilistic, fatalistic themes that can overlap into almost any genre. If you substituted the science mission with a heist, no one would argue that LC wasn't noir. The character dynamics and the plotting would be the exact same. Even their code-mandated grim fate at the end."

”

Romero, Melton and Chandler

Nolan pushes them upward over what must be at least 500 meters of shear vertical assent that would test the most experienced climbers, let alone a ragtag bunch that have no climbing gear other than a rope. At this point a good leader would sit back, evaluate the situation and realize that obtaining the rocket data is beyond the scope of their resources. Plus, they’ve technically achieved their goal of finding the rocket! A simple radio message would bring a properly equipped team to the island within 24 hours, bringing the medical help needed for Briggs, and rescuing the stranded crew.

But Nolan and the plot insist that they all carry on, and it is their drawn-out ascent of the plateau that has been widely ridiculed by critics. At almost 20 minutes in length, it takes up about one-quarter of the film’s total running time. I’ll happily admit that it is there to simply pad out the film. However, for my money, it pretty accurately represents what most expeditions are all about – the countless hours it takes to get to your destination.

Having hiked and climbed over hundreds of kilometers of badlands, I can attest that the climbing sequence is a good approximation of what that’s like. Needing to watch your every footfall because a misstep could mean injury, which is often the same as death when you’re miles away from help in a harsh environment. Coming to a dead end while trying to find the best path. Being pummeling by the nasty weather while perched in the most precarious of spots⁴.  They’re all part of the expeditionary routine.

The film makes the most of its plaster rock cliff set, rearranging its pieces and shooting from different angles so that no shot replicates the last. The slow, deliberate climb parallels the progress of any average expedition. I’ve also had the bad luck to have to follow someone as crazy as Nolan on their self-proclaimed ‘Death March’ (the actual term used in my case). When he comes to a dangerous part of the pass, Nolan never looks back to see whether everyone else can make it across. His attitude is, “I’m better than you and if you can’t keep up with me, you deserve to die”. And people do. Nolan ignores Brigg’s injury that puts himself and, thus, everyone else in danger. Like the best noir anti-hero Nolan doesn’t care if he is the only one left standing in the end (or if he is standing at all).
 

The Lost World looks it was inspired by a Rudolph Zallinger Painting.

Once the pinnacle is reached the team find themselves in a very effective set that gives the unsettling feeling of an alien, prehistoric environment. It’s obviously artificial, but that just adds to its unearthly atmosphere. However, the green film tint used for this portion of the movie doesn’t work for me – I prefer good old B&W, but, maybe, like the red tint used in another Lippert Production, Rocket Ship XM from the previous year (clips of which are recycled here), it was more effective in the theater.

The stop-motion dinosaur models are primitive, but are none-the-less charming. We’re treated to an almost modern interpretation of intraspecific Triceratops combat when two of them lock horns in a battle to the death. I would, however, quibble with the attack by the Brontosaurus that sees Hugh Beaumont climbing a tree to escape. Hugh obviously had not watched the original King Kong (1933). It did not work then, and it does not work here. Climbing a tree to escape the reach of an animal with a 6 meter long neck doesn’t make any sense. I’m always puzzled why an herbivore with the brain the size of peach pit would be driven to violently attack something that is non-threatening. I guess that King Kong set the rule of vicious sauropods that must be obeyed!

In his book, Keep Watching The Skies, Bill Warren offers these insights in to the film’s animated sequences, 

“For years, the identity of the stop-motion animator of the inadequate dinosaur scenes in Lost Continent was unknown. But then in Filmfax #105 (January–March 2005), William Fogg’s article on the movie basically answered the question, although who actually did the animation is still unclear. In December 1950, Robert Lippert signed a contract with Edward Nassour for “750 feet of black-and-white film featuring prehistoric animals.” Jay Baylor and sculptor Henry Lion often worked for Nassour in that period, so either or both may have been the actual animator—although there is no replacement animation of the type Nassour used in the later Beast of Hollow Mountain. The animation was done in a very short six weeks, explaining its deficiencies.”

After surviving all these threats, a nicely animated pterosaur leads the team to the rocket (bravo for the naturalistic look of it landing on a rock!). They manage to collect the precious data, but not before losing one more crew member (death by Triceratops!). On their descent, the surviving men are forced into a frantic race against the volcanic destruction of the island. They flee for their lives as the ground literally drops away beneath them in a sequence as exciting and well done as any big budget production could have managed. At the last second the surviving men escape in a native outrigger canoe.

Their fate is unresolved. The film ends with the dazed men clutching their precious data as the remainder of land crumbles in to the sea. No food. No Water. No supplies. No one knows where they are as they drift helplessly⁵. Will they be rescued? Will the next generation of rockets get built? If only Nolan had radioed HQ their position before setting out on his suicidal mission!

If there’s a moral here, it’s knowing to quit while you’re ahead. Having figured out where the rocket was and without the ability to mount a safe way to reach it, it’s best to call in help.

Sid Melton

The cast of The Lost Continent is made up of a lot of familiar faces that helps to smooth over its admittedly many flaws. I have a soft spot for Sid Melton who had a long career in mostly comedic small parts, including playing Captain Midnight's sidekick in the 1950’s and as part of the ensemble cast of the long running TV show, Green Acres. In the anthology parody movie, Amazon Women on The Moon (1987), Joey Travolta does a spot on spoof of Melton in the segment of the same name, which is itself a spoof of Fire-Maidens of Outer Space (1956) and a dozen other 50’s space exploitation flicks (e.g., notably Abbott and Costello Go To Mars, 1953).

Affable Hugh Beaumont (pre-Leave It To Beaver) had the magical ability to sail through cheapo movies like this with good humor and his dignity intact. A rule of thumb for characters appearing in these sorts of films would be to stick close to Hugh; I can’t think of one where he does not it make it out hale and hearty. And, I’m surprised that the producers did not give Universal’s Captive Wild Woman (1943), Acquanetta, a larger part. Most films like this would have her guiding the boys up the plateau and then either ending up with Romero or sacrificing herself so that he could escape. She’s wasted in this small role, but I hope she got away before the island blew up! 

Is The Lost Continent Worth My Time? I might be in the minority, but I’ll highly recommend it to those that enjoy these quickly made, low budget Lost World flicks. The 83 minute production by Robert L. Lippert & Sigmund Neufeld, and Sam Neufeld’s (Sigmund’s brother) direction rises well above the expected cheapie cash grab. Cinematography by Jack Greenhalgh is sharp and rich adding a lush tone to the film, while the score (available as a stand alone track on the DVD) evokes the spirit of high adventure. Screenwriter Richard Landeau also co-wrote the screenplay for the exceptional Quatermass Xperiment (1955), so he clearly was capable of writing better material when given the chance. Notably, both films feature rockets stuck in the ground like darts--ludicrous but dramatically impactful visuals.  

Availability: The 2001 DVD from Image Entertainment is still available and offers a sharp, clean print with good sound.
 

Notes:

1. Do not accept any of the nonsense spoken about radioactivity in this film as fact.

2. I know that all birds are dinosaurs.

3. Calling this unnamed island a continent is pushing it.

4. Although no giant anole lizards have ever tried to eat me.

5. Given that the back-projecting ocean footage clearly shows waves breaking on a beach, our heroes could simply have stepped out of the canoe and walked home.

The Roots of Genndy Tartakovsky's PRIMAL (2019)

Q: How many giant, blood-red, mutant bats does it take to carry an adult T. rex into the cave of a humongous spider-god?

A: Is that an African or a European giant, blood-red, mutant bat?

Actually, the answer is ‘two’.

From this intro you can tell that I’ve finally caught up with PRIMAL, the latest series from Genndy (Samurai Jack) Tartakovsky on the Cartoon Network. The first five episodes of the first season aired last Fall and ended on a cliffhanger (spoiler – I’m betting that the T. rex is still alive).

Spear and Fang

The show’s premise is simple – in a cartoon version of prehistory where only such things are possible, a caveman (‘Spear’) is befriended by a Tyrannosaurus rex (‘Fang’) and together they fight for survival.

The premise is not new or novel. Pop culture is clogged with hominids of some sort or another living in a world where both dinosaurs and prehistoric mammals all coexist.

The most famous is probably the long running and much repeated, THE FLINTSTONES (1960). Like Primal’s Spear, Fred Flintstone has a pet dinosaur, Dino, who I always thought must be some sort of prosauropod. But, The Flintstones, as great as it was, is just a variation on Jackie Gleason’s The Honeymooners (if that means anything to kids these days) and its prehistoric milieu is just a parody of modern society.

Primal’s earliest, best-known antecedent would be the comic strip, ALLEY OOP, featuring the caveman of the same name. Created by V.T. Hamlin back in 1932, Alley Oop lived in the mythical prehistoric land of Moo and got into all kinds of hijinks with his cavemen buddies, his pet dinosaur, Dinnie, and his girlfriend, Ooola (as in Oh la la!). Primal’s Spear even shares Oop’s thick body build, although not Oop’s Popeye-like upper arms and legs.

Next up is Vaughn (Cheech Wizard) Bode’s, THE MAN, featuring the adventures of a melancholic and confused-by-his-prehistoric world caveman. Broadly modeled after Alley Oop, The Man is alone in his world except for his beloved stick (called ‘Stick’) to which he voices his inner thoughts and fears. In his neanderthal brain (not a slur), The Man perceives Stick as being as ‘alive’ as he is and even risks his life to save it when it is in danger.

Primal’s Spear shares a similar relationship to his own ‘Spear’ and goes to great lengths to retrieve it when it is lost.

Vaughn Bode's The Man

The Man’s existence is sad, lonely, scary, and desperate, and it is not at all your traditional comic strip. Spear’s adventures and almost suicidal despondency over the misery that is life in Primal’s first episode could easily be seen as a homage to what may be Bode’s most mature and poignant work. The Man was originally created in 1965 for Syracuse University’s student newspaper (Bode was just a sophomore!), the Daily Orange, and deserves to be better known. The Man can be found in a 1972 reprint by Print Mint or in Schizophrenia, an anthology of Bode’s work published by Fantagraphics in 2001.

Which brings us to Jack (The King) Kirby’s, DEVIL DINOSAUR, which is what PRIMAL is in all but name.

In 1970, Kirby left Marvel Comics after creating or co-creating almost their entire roster of super-heroes. Lured to DC with the promise of editorial control and presumably better pay, Kirby created his much praised, interconnected ‘Fourth World’ series (New Gods, etc.), only to have them abruptly cancelled by unsupportive overseers (I’m looking at you, ghost of Carmine Infantino!). Kirby replaced these books with new (even better IMHO) characters (The Demon, OMAC, Kamandi) before giving up on DC and returning to Marvel in 1976.

Going back to Marvel must have been hard, but Kirby had a family to feed, so he swallowed his pride and returned to The House That Kirby Built. He went on produce some of his best work, including an oversized ‘treasury’ version of 2001: A Space Odyssey that is a thing of beauty to behold. But perhaps his most notable creation (at least to this palaeontologist) is the curiosity that is Devil Dinosaur, his last hurrah for Marvel. Only running for nine issues (but since recently revived), it featured the adventures of the blue ape-man, Moon Boy, and his red T. rex, the aptly named Devil Dinosaur.

Just like the world of Primal, Moon Boy and Devil Dinosaur lived in chaotic mixture of prehistoric beasts and danger, and featured adventures that only Jack Kirby could have conceived. Fans were never surprised when marauding aliens turn up or when Devil Dinosaur time traveled forward to the modern world.

Tartakovsky's Primal embraces all things Jack Kirby, only differing in its beautifully muted colour design and lack of dialogue (bravo for that stylistic choice – that must have been a tough sell to the network executives). As the series progresses, Spear and Fang battle progressively weirder protagonists until we finally fully arrive in Jack Kirby’s universe by episode 4. The giant mutant bats from this episode bear an uncannily resemblance to giant bats from his Kamandi, The Last Boy on Earth #9 (1973). The giant spider from the same episode was seen in Devil Dinosaur #2 (1978). And finally, Primal’s cliffhanger episode delivers the Clobberin’ Time punch of the giant wearing the Triceratops skull mask (above) from DD #3 (1978) battling one of Kirby’s first creations for Marvel, The Incredible Hulk.

Yes, you read that right – THE INCREDIBLE HULK.

To beat the giant ape-thing wearing the Triceratops skull and save his T. rex buddy, Spear drinks a potion that turns him into a giant (giant!), raging, out-of-control green blue hulk. At this point the series has admitted that anything goes! I fully support Tartakovsky engaging his inner Kirby as the series moves forward. I will be disappointed if I don’t soon see robotic Recorders from another galaxy, Spear’s spear turning out to be a magic hammer when slammed on the ground, and a time machine that takes Spear and Fang to downtown Manhattan! At a minimum.

Note the famous log from King Kong (1933)

Is Primal Worth My Time: A big five stars for entertainment value and I refuse to poke holes in its premise by wearing my palaeontologist field cap. I can even believe the events that lead to Spear and Fang teaming up. But I will point out that only a ‘plot device’ could have Spear building his soon-to-be-eaten family’s hut in the middle of a plain full of carnivorous dinosaurs and not up on a safe cliff somewhere. Or, maybe, you know, being a caveman, why not put them in a nice defendable cave? 

Not every episode is over top adventure. The David Krentz storyboarded episode (#3) with Spear and Fang battling a winter storm and a herd of mammoths is touching and exciting at the same time. And kudos to the brilliant design and colour palate of the series, and the fine music and sound design that is all the more noticeable for the lack of dialogue (although there IS a lot of grunting, screaming and roaring).

Availability: Wherever you can watch the Cartoon Network.

____________________________________________

Ray Bradbury on The Man: "The Man by Vaughn Bode is very sad and very touching and full of the loneliness that must have been beast/man's long before we knew more of love and what it could do to save us from the uncaring universe, and, often, ourselves." 

Contender for the greatest single frame in animation history

Joe Dante's Top 50 Worst Horror and SF Films

Read his 1972 article from Famous Monsters of Filmland over at the AS FB page

Curse of The Abominable Snowmobile

A classic from the brain and pen of Larry Todd (Brain Fantasy #2, Last Gasp).

James Cagney is the Picture Snatcher (1933)

Although it’s not considered an essential Pre-Code Film, Picture Snatcher (1933) may be the quintessential Pre-Code Film.  The presence of James Cagney, whose popularity continues to transcend generations, and its snappy script certainly makes it a great introduction to the world of Pre-Code movies for the novice.

Pick a category that the Code objected to and Picture Snatcher has it. Watch Cagney navigate through, or participate in:  gangster shot outs, executions, police abusing their power, women in lingerie, sexually aggressive women, violence against women, children shot at, the seduction of underage girls – and the list goes on!

Picture Snatcher has a demise that seems ripe for a Netflix or HBO series. Head-of-his-mob Danny Kean (Cagney) gets out of Sing-Sing after taking a 3 year rap for one of his gang. But, rather than return to a life of crime he decides to go straight and get into the newspaper business. He kisses off his old pals and takes his share of the loot (with interest; apparently his gang was nice enough to invest his money while Danny was out of circulation).  Although he’s going straight, the slippery Danny’s not above using his ill-gotten gains to set himself up – after all, he’s earned it!

Cagney and Ralph Bellamy

Cagney convinces Al McLean (Ralph Bellamy), the alcoholic editor of the scummiest newspaper in town to set him up taking the scandalous photos that no one else can get. He’s then off and running (no one can move or talk faster than Cagney), but never fast enough to shake off the women that are drawn to him like honey.

Cagney and Alice White

Within minutes of turning in his first big photo, the Women’s Page reporter, Allison (the saucy Alice White - “I’m too much woman for any one man”) has dragged him into the back of the Women’s bathroom. He doesn’t object until he later finds out that she’s McLean’s main squeeze. Allison forces herself on Danny again only to suffer worse than Mae Clarke did in Public Enemy (1931). Danny later sweeps a former moll off her feet (“I’m going to put on some silk so good that you can see right through it”) and throws her onto a bed – only to leave her angry and frustrated when he instead walks out on her (he’s only using her for information).

Cagney, Patricia Ellis and Robert Emmett O’Connor

The real girl for Danny is sweet Pat Nolan (Patricia Ellis), described as ‘jailbait’ by Allison (Ellis could not have been more than 16 years old when the movie was shot). Unfortunately, her father Casey, played by Robert Emmett O’Connor - who was born to play Irish cops - is the officer who sent Danny up the river. When Casey first sees Danny, he chases him into the street in full uniform firing at him with his police revolver. Danny shrugs this off, but today Casey would be arrested for attempted murder (at least in some jurisdictions).

Lights out in Sing-Sing

Cagney eventually gets his big break by surreptitiously taking a photo of a female convict being electrocuted. This will give him the raise he needs to marry Pat, but it also means demotion and public humiliation for her father, Casey, whose good word let Danny join the other journalist observers at the execution. Just as in his old criminal days, Danny only ever thinks of himself. Self evaluation only comes when he hits rock bottom after losing his job and his girl. Can Danny redeem himself in the final act and win back Pat?

Let’s just say that, other than a few bullet-ridden bodies, almost everyone ends up happy. Except for Allison who ends up walking the streets. Tough break kid. Didn’t you know that even in a Pre-Code film the sexually aggressive woman has to end up either married or in jail? Unfortunately, Alice White’s life mirrored that of her character in Picture Snatcher. She had a moderately successful career in silent films, often being compared to Clara Bow, but her work in the talkies was derailed by a 1933 sex scandal involving her boyfriend, Jack Warburton, and producer, Sy Barrett.

Is Picture Snatcher Worth My Time?: Yes. Directed by Lloyd Bacon, it’s an entertaining romp that careens from serious melodrama to farce. Cagney almost seems to be spoofing himself here, performing and delivering lines at such a breakneck speed that you except the film’s 77 minute running time to be half of that. Ralph Bellamy is a great foil for Cagney, and your heart has to break a little for feisty Alice White who just wants what she wants, but is not destined to get it.

Availability: Picture Snatcher is available as part of the Warner Gangsters Collection, Vol. 3.

Yes, Alice White, you are in a Pre-Code Film!

Barbara Shelley is the Cat Girl (1957)

To Carcass Me Is To Tempt Death!

Cat Girl (1957) is a B&W pastiche of every ‘Old Dark House’ story ever filmed and Val Lewton’s, The Cat People (1942), with the poster’s tag line referring directly back to that film. Directed by Alfred Shaughnessy, it has a suitably dark and spooky atmosphere, but it is most notable for the sharp performance by Barbara Shelley who realistically expresses both the fear and carnal bloodlust that results when her family curse consumes her.

Barbara Shelley, John Lee, Patricia Webster, and Jack May

Leonora Johnson (Barbara Shelley) returns to her family’s ancestral home at the request of her uncle Edmund Brant (noted Shakespearean actor, Ernest Milton) to discuss her future inheritance, not knowing that it is actually the 700 year-old Brant curse. In tow, Leonora has brought along her calculating husband, Richard (Jack May) and their friends, perpetually drunk Allen (John Lee) and his wife, Cathy (Patricia Webster), who is in an on-going affair with Richard.

But, even before we arrive at the house, there are signs the Leonora may not be completely stable. Stopping at a pub, she is almost catatonic with the fear of seeing her uncle again. When she meets up with an old flame, hang dog psychiatrist, Brian Marlowe (Robert Ayres), it’s clear that’s she’s still carrying an overly obsessive torch for him. And, once at the house, she orders the elderly and infirmed servant, Anna (Lilly Kann), to carry their bags up to their rooms and fetch them coffee. Leonora! Anna she needs a cane to get around! Don’t be such a jerk! Well, we can chalk that up to nerves, I guess….

Ernest Milton and Barbara Shelley

Later that night, the sleeping-in-the-nude Leonora (the camera lingers lovingly on her bare back and shoulders) is woken up and summoned to her uncle’s sanctum sanctorum to learn the family secret; that the head of the family has been cursed with werewolfism, albeit of an odd sort where their spirit takes over a leopard that carries out proxy killings at its master’s command. When Leonora’s spirit possesses the cat, she undergoes a subtle, but effective transformation –her eyebrows become pointed and she acquires a more glamorous make-up designed to make her eyes look more cat-like. But, the best effect is how Shelley can convey a feral blood-thirst by simply contorting her face and hands.

Initially appalled by her uncle’s claims, Leonora shows an instant affinity for the leopard. Taking up the ancient curse allows Leonora to shed her prim, uptight skin and give in to her raging hatred for her controlling uncle and unfaithful husband, and her lust for Brian. Uncle and husband are soon found clawed to pieces by some large beast, and when the police bring in Brian The Shrink to deal with Leonora’s seemingly irrational claim that she killed them both, we know that she will stop at nothing to reclaim her old lover. His pretty blonde wife, the canary-like, Dorothy (Kay Kallard), had better not perch too close to Leonora!

Barbara Shelley as Cat Girl!

Like the best Femme Fatale’s, Leonora is a provocative, empowered protagonist who is both hero and villain in her own narrative. Hammer Films would exploit this motif in many of their future horror films while never failing to showcase an array of Technicolor bosoms. Leonora’s ‘curse’ can been seen as a liberation from her repressed 1950’s lifestyle as she finally gives herself permission to take control of her life and eliminate all of the obstacles standing in her way. “I am Woman. Hear my leopard roar!” Unfortunately, she takes the ‘eliminate’ part literally!

Robert Ayres and Barbara Shelley look for a cigarette

Brian tries to cleanse Leonora of her crazy belief by burning her uncle’s old books (was I the only one to wince at the thought of 700 year-old manuscripts being so callously destroyed?). This leads to a heated physical confrontation between the two of them, followed by a chest-heaving, mussed up hair, post-coitus-like reconciliation in front of a burning fireplace that was apparently too subtle for the British censors, but not the astute viewer.

After Brian commits Leonora to a sanitarium the film shifts into high(er) gear. The first night sees Leonora’s hands seemingly turn into maybe real claws (a nice touch!) and for a split second, a fuzzy, possible transformation into a were-cat, after which she proceeds (off camera) to tear up the room. Although he finally admits that Leonora is mentally disturbed, Brian still has her discharged (!) and proceeds to make his wife (!!) spend time with Leonora to in an attempt to help ‘normalize her’ (!!!). Hands up anyone who thinks this is a bad idea and that we should check where Brian got his medical degree?

Barbara Shelley and Kay Kallard

The climax of Cat Girl is a mostly effective variation on the famous bus stop scene from The Cat People. Threateningly dressed in a full-length black raincoat, our Polythene Pam-like Leonora plays cat and mouse with Dorothy through the dark alleys of the dockyards while the police search for an escaped leopard. Will Leonora channel her leopard avatar one more time? Will Brian arrive in time to save his wife? Cat Girl is worth watching to learn how the Brant family curse finally plays out.

The statuesque Barbara Shelley started her career as a model before moving into films in Italy in 1953 under her real name of Barbara Kowin. By 1957 she was appearing in English language films in Britain as Barbara Shelly where she had a long career dividing her time between TV and movies. Cat Girl was her first English language movie and she can claim ‘Scream Queen’ status for having starred in a number of genre films including Blood of the Vampire (1958), Village of the Damned (1960), The Shadow of the Cat (1961), The Gorgon (1964), and Dracula – Prince of Darkness (1967), as well as appearing in many episodes of The Avengers, Danger Man, The Saint, and The Man from U.N.C.L.E during the 1960’s.

Her best role arguably came as Barbara Judd in the film version of Quatermass and The Pit (aka 5 Million Years to Earth, 1967). As the assistant to Dr. Michael Roney (James Donald), she channels the hallucinatory vision of the Martian ‘wild Hunt’ (above) after the discovery of the ancient spaceship in Hobbs End, London. This one scene shows just how good her acting chops were and how underutilized she was in most of her film appearances.

Is Cat Girl Worth My Time? Yes. It’s an underrated, minor British classic well worth watching for Shelley’s almost hypnotic performance. The rest of the workman-like cast moves through their clichéd roles with a minimum of fuss, although prone to overacting. Barbara Shelley is the whole show here, but she’ll hold your attention for the entire film. It’s the sign of a well told story that it never lags and you never notice its 69 minute running time.

Availability: It does not appear to be currently available on DVD, but OOP copies are available on  the secondary market. It’s ripe for a full BluRay restoration.