The Leopard Man

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.

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.

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.

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

Dennis O'Keefe and Jean Brooks decide to elevate their act in New Mexico by having Brooks walk on-stage with a black leopard. The Mexican castanet dancer, Clo Clo(deliciously played by Margo), mashes the castanets menacingly at the cat, it flees, and a panic spreads amongst the people of the little village. Soon, one girl dies, then another, and another...and evidence points that a cat did it and later to something completely different. The Leopard Man is one of those rare films that is very effective with shadows and fog without showing anything. We never see any of the deaths happen "on-stage" so to speak. The imaginations of the viewers are enlisted to conjure up what might be the scene of each murder. Director Jacques Tournier and producer Val Lewton probably team up for their best collaboration. This film is laced with moody atmosphere, great pacing, quality performances, and a script worked over by the camera that enforces theme and symbolic meaning throughout. I found this film haunting, eerie, and poetic in its own way. O' Keefe, James Bell, Margo, Brooks, and the entire cast give credible turns and enforce our ability to accept what is going on.Some scenes are quite memorable: the young girl walking back home from the store is a classic scene of terror, the cemetery scene, and the procession of the monks allowed Tournier to work his magic with the lens. Tournier was always able to tell so much story with so little dialog. Though some might find the ending a bit of a letdown, I thoroughly enjoyed The Leopard Man.