Cat People

I already posted the song Cat People, but I’m doing a redux, mainly to recommend the movie it was written for. Cat People (a 1982 remake of a forties horror movie of the same name) stars Nastassja Kinski as a virginal naif who comes to realize that her long lost brother is seriously creepy, partly because he turns into a man-eating panther at inopportune moments, and partly because his human identity takes the form of Malcolm McDowell. Granted, the movie doesn’t even make a stab at making sense, there’s no logic, not even the remotest sense of probability and supposed  love interest John Heard has all the charm of a fencepost. But the FX is very good by 1982 standards, the cats outperform the entire supporting cast, and there’s a consistent sense of malaise that keeps the whole thing from descending into silliness. It’s Nastassja Kinski who carries the movie on the strength of her wide-eyed performance, not to mention her astounding beauty and willingness to get naked. To whit, it’s pretty creepy, pretty sexy, the theme song is rather good and Nastassja Kinksi is naked.

Everyone Says ‘Hi’

Some people (some people, hi Dad!) have complained that David Bowie’s millennial-era records are too gloomy. That’s kind of an unfair statement – Bowie was never the type to sing songs about how great his dog is. But there’s definitely a thoughtful, autumnal mood that hangs over the albums ‘hours and Heathen, much out of line with how wonderful Bowie’s personal life has been since he kicked drugs and found love. Though, again, rhapsodizing about his wife’s lovely hair just isn’t his bag. He always was a deep thinker with plenty of existential angst to express, but as a young man he tended to favor allegory and wrought metaphor over direct personal expression. Being happily older, saner and settled has given him the courage to write, just as thoughtfully and existentially, but in his own voice, not that of a theatrical alter ego. There’s lots of thoughts about love lost and redeemed, thoughts about being a better man than his younger self, all haunted vaguely by the spectre of getting old. Not all of which is as doomy or gloomy as it sounds – for every elegiac Slip Away, there’s an Everyone Says ‘Hi’, one of Bowie’s friendliest and most hopeful compositions.  If any proof is needed of Bowie’s newfangled sanity, just watch the relish of his latter-day performances. He’s grinning from ear to ear.