If you read any material that discusses the life and times of Val Lewton, you will come across one word that is perhaps most defining of him as an artist – “atavistic”. The word, which means that which relates to the antiquity or ancestral worlds, is something that remained one of the primary themes behind his work. As one of the most unheralded masters of Hollywood’s Golden Age, where he worked primarily as a writer and producer, Lewton has not always been given the respect he deserves outside of those who are cognisant of his work in the industry. His crowning achievement is something that has been readily debated, particularly with four films being likely contenders – and it feels like the main thrust of the contest has drifted in favour of Cat People, which has been appreciated not only as a classic of horror cinema, but a work that is seen as a subversive critique on society, as well as an early example of queer-coded cinema, becoming a work that is adored by the queer community, particularly in terms of its narrative centring on transcending our physical form and embracing a deeper, hidden identity. This all goes back to his interest in exploring the theme of modern humanity interacting with the carnal and animalistic, weaving together a story of viscerality, where he portrays the main character as a profoundly modern woman being terrorized by her psychological descent into a primitive state – and it becomes one of the most compelling horror films of its time, a complex depiction of unhinged terror that was only possible with true visionaries at the helm – and through all the terror, we find something valuable embedded deep within Cat People, a film that is as important as it is eerie.

In no uncertain terms, Lewton is more than just a brilliant artistic voice, but one of the most essential and important figures in Hollywood history. Without his work, modern horror would likely not have progressed quite as far as it did over the past several decades. His work with RKO produced eleven incredible films, each one of them a delicately-crafted, deeply compelling work that tells different stories but are united as the product of a producer who was actively involved in conceiving these stories and bringing them to life. Naturally, Lewton doesn’t deserve sole credit for his achievements here, and his collaborations with several directors, mainly Jacques Tourner (with whom he worked on three of these films) in this instance, brought out some of the most astonishing ideas of this particular era, allowing him to explore his curiosities in a safe but unique environment. Cat People was the first of Lewton’s productions, and he certainly knew how to make a strong first impression, since the sheer audacity that defines this film is a sight to behold all on its own. Lewton’s ambitious perspective, when coupled with Tourneur’s keen directorial eye, makes for a peculiar experience, a horror film that doesn’t fit into a pre-existing category, but rather creates one for itself, both narratively and in terms of the visual approach. It may have been the first time Lewton had been given free-reign to make the film he wanted, but it didn’t mean that he was anything close to an amateur (and it did help that Tourneur came from a filmmaking family, and had over a decade of experience), with Cat People proving to be one of the most invigorating and exceptional films produced at the time, and a film that warrants every bit of acclaim it has amassed over the past eight decades.

Something that becomes increasingly clear the more time you spend with their films is that, despite being relegated to the supposedly inferior genre of horror, no one understood how to scare and unsettle the audience quite as well as Lewton and Tourneur. It’s an art form that is wildly underestimated, especially if we look at the concept of auteur-driven horror, which is exactly what their collaborations (as well as those between Lewton and either Mark Robson or Robert Wise, who directed the remainder of his RKO productions) brought about. The key here is that everything is kept extremely simple – there is very little need for excess or overt complexity in Lewton’s world, and the stories, while layered with subtext and meaning, are all executed with delicate precision and an earnest amount of storytelling prowess, and we are constantly being pushed to look deeper than the surface, which is already quite disconcerting as it stands. This is a surprisingly elegant film, which some may mistake for it being slow-paced, especially since we have become conditioned to numerous jump scares and moments of unhinged terror. This is not something that Lewton was particularly interested in exploiting, using only a few moments of direct, confrontational terror, and instead allowing the sophistication of the story, which is very much drawn from a kind of nuanced, actively engaging mythology, do most of the work in terms of establishing a story and keeping us engaged. Few horror films can be described as both terrifying and achingly beautiful, and even fewer can attest to having a genuine sense of melancholy – but regardless of the perspective from which we look at the film, it is clear that Cat People is an extraordinary achievement in multilayered storytelling.

However, do not let the discussion on the sophistication mislead you – Cat People is an absolutely terrifying film, and Lewton and Tourneur work laboriously to ensure that the viewer is entirely entranced by this story. Looking at the techniques taken to ensure that we are consistently engaged with this narrative, we find many captivating details relating to how they incite fear. The combination of a smaller budget and restrictions relating to censorship creates a situation in which the filmmakers have to find creative ways to create its terrifying atmosphere, which turns out to be far more unsettling than anything produced with more resources. The majority of the fear comes from the fact that we don’t directly see the source of the horror – the creature mostly lurks in the shadows, obscured from our view, but still present through the atmosphere created by the other characters, who are not quite as lucky as us when it comes to escaping its animalistic rage. Once again, this goes back to the vaguely esoteric fascination Lewton had with the past – a lot of folkloric horror stories are about the unseen presence of malicious entities, who lurk just out of view, patiently waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting victim. The general principle with these stories is that these beings are always present, but once you can see them, it is far too late – and using this unique approach to mythology and coupling it with a wildly complex and exciting story that feels profoundly modern in its sensibilities, leads to some unique directorial choices that elevate Cat People to the status of a true horror classic, particularly in how it navigates some very strange existential terrain and finds ways to terrify without going too far.

There are quite simply few films quite like Cat People, which is as remarkable an achievement for a horror film made during an era where such a categorization was almost seen as an insult. Lewton’s greatest accomplishment was refusing to see the term “B-movie” as a hindrance or limitation, but as a challenge to be overcome – while his films may have been made to accompany the feature film presentation, they were secretly the main attraction themselves – hideous, insidious and deeply compelling works of unhinged terror that knew how to command the screen and keep the audience invested, while still putting us in a position of profound discomfort. Despite its relatively small scope (running at merely 72 minutes, one of the great aspects of B-movies, they rarely overstayed their welcome), few films have been as influential to the horror genre as Cat People. We would be amiss to not acknowledge the importance Lewton carries as one of the pioneers of the genre, and while he has been beatified as a master of his craft, his name is still slightly underrepresented when it comes to looking at important figures in the history of horror. This is one of his most impressive films, and considering it was the first he made, he clearly was in command of his craft from the outset, working closely with Tourneur to realize this abstract vision, turning a strange idea into one of the most complex and invigorating horror films of its generation, and one that remains as enticing today as it did eight decades ago.