She Never Lied to Us: Reflections on the Case of Irena Dubrovna

Simone Simon as Irena Dubrovna in  

Cat People (dir. Jacques Tourneur, 1942)

 

She was marked with the curse of those who slink and mate and kill by night ...

 

 

The 1942 psychological and supernatural suspense - I wouldn't call it a horror movie - Cat People is the fascinating tale of a beautiful and mysterious fashion illustrator in New York; Serbian-born Irena Dubrovna (played by the kitten-faced - but said to be temperamental - French actress Simone Simon).

 

Crazy as it sounds to her new apple-pie loving husband and the creepy psychiatrist he persuades her to visit, Irena believes herself - rightly as it turns out - to be descended from an ancient race of ailuranthropes who shapeshift (or metamorphose) into panthers when emotionally (or sexually) aroused.        

 

Her foreignness combined with her feline qualities make her doubly exotic and doubly attractive to those of us who identify as xenophiles and cat lovers, although she undoubtedly would make a problematic wife or girlfriend, unless one happens to have a fetishistic desire to be killed and possibly eaten by a wild animal (which I don't, but some people do).    

 

Several critics have described Cat People as boring and Simone Simon's acting as poor. But, having recently rewatched the film on TV, I would challenge this. The film may not be sensational, unlike many contemporary films, but it has a subtle understanding of shadowplay and the sexual politics of the period. 

 

Further, as far as I can see Miss Simon does a perfectly fine job in the role of Irena, one of the strangest characters in mid-20th century American cinema; a woman soothed by the sound of lions roaring and who finds the darkness friendly.     

 

One only wishes that the character could have embraced her nature and acknowledged her kinship with the feline-looking woman (played by Elizabeth Russell) who addresses her in a Serbian restaurant on her wedding night as moja sestra. 

 

And it might also have been satisfying to have seen Irena use her claws on Oliver, her patient but patronising (and ultimately unfaithful) husband (played by Kent Smith) and his co-worker-cum-mistress, Alice (Jane Randolph), as she does on the sleazy shrink (and sexual predator) Dr. Judd (Tom Conway) who, having dismissed her fears as irrational and infantile - and having threatened to have her locked up - attempts to seduce Irena, thus triggering the fatal transformation from woman to panther.

 

If things don't end well for Dr. Judd, then, sadly, things don't end well for Irena either and she too lies dead at the end of the film, thereby leaving the path clear for Oliver and Alice to marry and live happily ever after in a world no longer threatened by Irena's inhuman otherness [1].    

 

  

Notes

 

[1] Actually, that wasn't quite the case: in The Curse of the Cat People (dir. Gunther von Fritsch and Robert Wise, 1944), Oliver and Alice (played once more by Kent Smith and Jane Randolph) are now married and have a six-year-old daughter, Amy (Ann Carter), an extremely introverted child with a predilection for fantasy, who befriends the ghost of her father's deceased first wife, Irena (again played by Simone Simon). 

      Although sharing some of the same cast and characters - and clearly marketed as a sequel by RKO studio executives hoping to cash in on the success of their 1942 release - The Curse of the Cat People has little relationship to Cat People. Interestingly, however, its critical reputation has grown over the years and it is now seen by some as an enchanting and complex study of child psychology disguised as a ghost story.     

To watch the original trailer for Cat People, click here. 

 

To read a related post from May 2017 on woman-as-animal (with reference to a picture of Naomi Campbell by David LaChapelle entitled Cat House), click here.   

Three Portraits of Naomi 2: Naomi in the Cat House

Introductory Note

The three portraits of London-born supermodel Naomi Campbell that I wish to discuss were all taken by David LaChapelle for an issue of Playboy magazine (1 Dec 1999). As one might expect, all are visually stunning and typical in terms of composition and content of LaChapelle's aesthetico-erotic obsessions at this period. Unfortunately, these obsessions - such as his very obvious black girl fetish - rest upon rather questionable sexual and racial politics  ...     

Naomi Campbell: Cat House (1999)

By David LaChapelle 

In this second portrait we find Naomi in the cat house ...

I don't know if LaChapelle supplied the title to the picture, but it wouldn't surprise me, for a 2006 book published by Taschen featuring his work was called Artists and Prostitutes, so his ideal of womanhood is clearly rooted in the porno-moral imagination and perpetuates a philosophy not so much of the bedroom, as of the brothel.

It's not, however, the stereotype of woman-as-whore that I wish to discuss here, as fascinating and as important as this is. Rather, I wish to comment on the idea of woman-as-animal; in particular, the white male obsession with portraying the sexuality of black women in bestial terms - as here, where Naomi is depicted naked and on all fours, like a wild jungle creature in need of taming (try to kiss her and she'll claw you to death).

Whether we are supposed to imagine Naomi being mounted by a leopard and interpret this photo as a zoosexual fantasy, or understand that she is herself some kind of cat-woman, marked with the curse of those who slink and mate and kill by night and whose femininity is distinctly feline in nature, I'm not sure. Either way, it's understandably troubling to women of colour who have to deal with the consequences of such dehumanising mythology - and I sympathise with those who object to being thought of in animalistic terms that have sexist and racist overtones.

Having said that, I have to admit to still finding LaChapelle's photograph of Naomi extremely seductive. In part, this is due to the glossy technical brilliance of the picture and Campbell's astonishing beauty; she wasn't one of the original five women branded a supermodel for no reason. But it's also due to the fact that German actress and model Nastassja Kinski was very much the object of my teenage desire; particularly in her role as the ailuranthrope Irena Gallier, in the queer erotic horror Cat People (dir. Paul Schrader, 1982).

For better or for worse, this film - and the equally disturbing 1942 movie of the same title upon which it was loosely based - forever fixed the fetishistic (and occult) idea in my mind that there are rare and exotic women in this world who turn into black panthers when sexually aroused; their melanism being a crucial component of their allure. 

And so, whilst hopefully sensitive to the politics at play within representations of women - particularly women of African origin - that portray them in a primitive, fetishistic, hypersexual and inhuman manner (as wild animals in a state of perpetual heat and undress), I suspect I'm always going to be ravished by them.


To read part one of this post - Naomi as Playmate, Bunny Girl and Jezebel - click here. 

To read part three of this post - Naomi's Fruit Passion - click here.