I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE (1943)

 

(Director: Jacques Tourneur. Screenwriters: Curt Siodmak, whose screenplay was reworked by Ardel Wray, based on Inez Wallace’s article of the same name in American Weekly Magazine, and structured by Charlotte Brontë’s uncredited novel Jane Eyre.)

 

Review

In the Caribbean, on the island of St. Sebastian, a nurse (Betsy Connell, played by Frances Dee) attends to a catatonic, somnambulist wife of a sugar plantation owner─even as Betsy falls in love with her charge’s husband (Paul Holland). According to Mrs. Holland’s physician (Dr. Maxwell), the cause of her hypnotic sickness is a “tropical fever.” But it’s clearly more than that, rooted in racism and slavery─the previous generation of Hollands brought their dark-skinned workforce to St. Sebastian. As a result, Haitian voodoo, evidenced by nighttime ceremonial drums, an arrow-riddled statue of Ti-Misery (St. Sebastian) and other things, casts a huge shadow over this sad island.

The roiling, collective emotions of the Hollands (including Wesley, Paul’s younger, alcoholic brother) and Betsy come to a head when their maid (Alma) convinces to Betsy to take Paul’s wife to a houmfort where a houngan (voodoo priest) might be able to cure the zombie-like Mrs. Holland. Things don’t turn out the way Betsy and Alma hope, leading to further plot Reveals and point-of-no-return situations.

A palpable, shadow-drenched melancholia and spookiness suffuses this romance-, imperialism- and superstition-fueled sixty-nine-minute film, briefly narrated by Betsy and, later, one of the servants. WALKED, for its time, is almost shocking in its blunt, constant acknowledgment of slavery and racism, a movie that proved to be a major influence on cinema, although critics at the time of its release were wildly divided in their opinions. Time has enhanced the reputation of this reworking of Charlotte Brontë’s uncredited novel Jane Eyre (per RKO Pictures producer Val Lewton’s wishes, who was not impressed with Inez Wallace’s film-source article), and deservedly so─it’s a masterful mood-piece work, full of iconic shots (e.g., Betsy’s first encounter with the unsettling Carrefour, played with silent, terrifying intensity by Darby Jones) and an impressive, effective layer-mix of moods and themes.

Like RKO’s THE SEVENTH VICTIM (1943), the censors at the Breen office took umbrage at WALKED’s original ending (suicide was not to be shown onscreen), so a different, but no less haunting ending replaced it. Another element that was toned down per the Breen office’s edict was Wesley’s alcoholism, which took up more screentime in its original version.*

WALKED's notable cast includes: Tom Conway (CAT PEOPLE, 1942, and its loosely linked prequel, THE SEVENTH VICTIM, 1943) as Paul Holland, Betsy’s initially cold object of desire; James Ellison (THE UNDYING MONSTER, 1942) as Wesley Rand; Theresa Harris, billed as Teresa Harris, as Alma, the Hollands’ maid─Harris, uncredited, also appeared in CAT PEOPLE, 1942; and James Bell (THE MONKEY’S PAW, 1933) as Dr. Maxwell.

WALKED’s behind-the-scenes talent includes: art directors Albert S. D’Agostino and Walter E. Keller (THE CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE, 1944); cinematographer J. Roy Hunt; film editor Mark Robson (who directed THE SEVENTH VICTIM, 1943); and composer Roy Webb (who, uncredited, also created the soundtrack for RETURN OF THE FLY, 1959).

TALES FROM THE CRYPT: RITUAL (a.k.a. RITUAL), a remake of WALKED, was released in 2002. Directed by Avi Nesher, it featured Jennifer Grey, Craig Sheffer, Tim Curry and Erick Avari.

 

Citation

*Clive Dawson, “Lewton vs. Breen” (article, The Dark Side magazine, issue 210, pp. 40-9)

CAT PEOPLE (1942)

 

(Director: Jacques Tourneur. Screenwriter: DeWitt Bodeen.)

Storyline

A Serbian immigrant woman weds an American man, triggering her superstitious belief that she’ll turn into jungle cat if she has sex with her husband.

 

Review

When an American, Oliver Reed (Kent Smith, THE CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE, 1944), marries a Serbian fashion artist, the neurotic Irena Dubrovna (Simone Simon, THE CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE, 1944), it exacerbates an irrational terror within her. She fears that if she kisses her husband, she’ll turn into a jungle cat and tear him apart. Her terror and his frustration are heightened when he and his close co-worker, Alice Moore (Jane Randolph, THE CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE, 1944), realize they’re in love.

A psychiatrist, Dr. Louis Judd (Tom Conway, THE SEVENTH VICTIM, 1943), tries to help the distraught Irena, who stalks Alice and Oliver at night. (Conway reprised his character in SEVENTH, a character-linked prequel to CAT.)

Irena’s downward emotional trajectory worsens, underscoring an increasingly dangerous question: can she be saved before she transforms, goes murderously insane?

At seventy-three minutes, this is a stunning film. The psychological and nuanced potency of DeWitt Bodeen’s taut, character-sketched screenplay is further brought to iconic and suspenseful life by its visual and musical aspects. Roy Webb’s score is dramatic without being overly so; art directors Albert S. D’Agostino and Walter E. Keller’s use of chiaroscuro and animation is enhanced by Nicholas Muscuraca’s cinematography, Mark Robson’s editing and Jacques Tourneur’s direction.

Acting-wise, all the players are dead-on in their roles. The leads are backed by notable actors, including Alec Craig (THE SPIDER WOMAN, 1943) as a “Zookeeper” and Alan Napier (THE UNINVITED, 1944) as Doc Carver─both Craig and Napier are uncredited in their CAT roles.

CAT is one of my all-time favorite films of any genre, one that is worth seeing if you enjoy suspenseful, psychological films with striking visual aspects and haunting characters. 

THE SEVENTH VICTIM (1943)

 

(Director: Mark Robson. Screenwriter: Charles O’Neal and DeWitt Bodeen.)

Storyline

A naïve young woman goes to New York City to find her more worldly sister, who’s disappeared─and is being targeted by a satanic cult.

 

Review

Mary Gibson (Kim Hunter, THE KINDRED, 1987), a student in a Catholic boarding school, heads to New York City when her sister, Jacqueline (Jean Brooks, THE INVISIBLE MAN RETURNS, 1940), disappears. Once there, Mary discovers that Jacqueline sold her cosmetics business (La Sagesse) and that, around the same time, she somehow crossed a satanic cult, the shrouded-in-mystery Palladists.

The mystery of her sister’s disappearance grows darker when an ally─a private investigator, Irving August (an uncredited Lou Lubin)─is stabbed by an unseen assailant, dying in front of Mary while his murderer escapes.

More creepy, suspenseful weirdness occurs. Mary is aided in her quest by Gregory Ward (Hugh Beaumont, THE MOLE PEOPLE, 1956), Jacqueline’s husband, and Jason Hoag (Erford Gage), a poet who’s friends with Jacqueline. Their help leads them to Dr. Louis Judd (Tom Conway), Jacqueline’s psychiatrist─a reprise of Conway’s character in Jacques Tourneur’s loosely linked sequel, CAT PEOPLE (1942). Eventually, things come to a non-violent climax when Mary and her allies directly confront the cultists, with mixed results.

This tightly shot, atmospheric and mostly non-violent thriller is a rewatchable subversive high point in the horror genre. Its stylized look is drenched in plays of shadow and light (courtesy of legendary cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca, CAT PEOPLE, 1942); it goes a long way toward creating a mixed horror-noir vibe while Roy Webb’s score furthers its suspenseful, melancholic mood─Webb, among his other works, scored the 1959 film RETURN OF THE FLY.

Charles O’Neal (CRY OF THE WEREWOLF, 1944) and DeWitt Bodeen (CAT PEOPLE, 1942) penned a slyly written screenplay that brings to the screen themes and settings that the Production Code Administration (PCA), a Catholic-faith forerunner to the MPAA, frowned upon. One of these elements is that of suicide, strong hinted at in a key scene in SEVENTH─a scene I’ve read puzzles modern viewers who seem to be allergic to subtlety, in this case Code-forced subtlety. (Suicides were not allowed to be shown in films in 1943; villainy had to be punished by the law or accidental death.)

Another then-subversive element is that of sexuality. Jacqueline and Dr. Judd’s interactions imply they had an affair, another PCA no-no. Not only that, Frances Fallon (Isabel Jewell, BORN TO KILL, 1947) reacts to Jacqueline’s disappearance and possible death in such a weepy, furious way that it’s obvious there was something more than friendship going on between them. The fact that SEVENTH is set in gay- and lesbian-friendly Greenwich Village, and that at least one funny-quip gay character was shown cements the nature of Jacqueline’s alluded-to relationships.

Some viewers may appreciate a cleverly shot shower scene with Mary that not only slips under the radar of the PCA’s ire but predates Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 thriller PSYCHO by seventeen years. These same viewers may also appreciate seeing an uncredited Elizabeth Russell (THE CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE, 1944) as Mimi, Jacqueline’s melancholic neighbor.

SEVENTH is a seventy-one-minute gem of a B flick, one that I consider to be perfect, given the period it was made and its multilayered themes, characters and settings, all guided to the screen by producer Val Lewton and director Mark Robson, who brought their talent, passion and editing expertise to it. This is not only worth your time, it’s worth owning.

Citation

“Lewton vs. Breen” by Clive Dawson (The Dark Side magazine, issue 210, pp. 40-9)