Many a great movie has been based on a work of short fiction. Notable examples from just the last few decades include the original Total Recall (story by Phillip K. Dick), Minority Report (ditto), The Shawshank Redemption (courtesy of Stephen King), The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (F. Scott Fitzgerald) and, best of all, Brokeback Mountain (Annie Proulx, masterpiece-level).
Now comes Cat Person – based on a once-buzzy and now-stale Kristen Roupenian story from 2017 – which, like the published text of the spare and timeless “Brokeback Mountain”, was first affixed to the latter half of an issue of The New Yorker. Both exist worlds apart, at opposite ends of a vast spectrum. The former nailed the art of adaptation, of teasing out nuances not explicitly outlined in brief on ink and paper, but which could be found between fine lines. The latter is misbegotten and lumpy, with no reason to exist at all.
Cat Person, directed by Susanna Fogel and adapted for the screen by Michelle Ashford, clumsily dramatizes its (already not great) source material, adding bizarre thriller elements to what should be a black comedy. Upon publication, Roupenian’s story instantly went viral, mostly due to its candid portrayal of the complexities of dating in the digital age as presented from the viewpoint of a young woman (less so than for its sentence-by-sentence virtuosity). It sparked discussions, debates, countless think pieces and Twitter rants about the nuances of consent and communication in modern relationships. “Cat Person” resonated for many at the time, post Me Too, as an exposé, a peek into the often murky depths of romance in a new millennium.
The thin plot – of the film and short story alike – follows Margot (Emilia Jones, star of CODA), our protagonist, a college student who meets an older man, named Robert (Nicholas Braun, Succession’s Cousin Greg), while she works part-time at a movie theater. After some wooden repartee at the theater’s concession stand, they exchange numbers and start texting, which eventually leads to a first date. Margot’s interest in Robert is, at first blush, passive and halting. She’s not particularly attracted to him physically, but still decides to give him a chance. As their awkward interactions progress, Margot finds herself torn between a desire to please Robert and her discomfort with the sexual expectations that arise. She grapples with her own sense of agency and the pressure to conform to societal expectations (i.e., putting out). Eventually, Margot gives in, goes all the way, and the sex (surprise, surprise) is, to be generous, blech.
Here’s where Roupenian’s source text ends, about halfway through Cat Person. It then veers sharply, suddenly becoming bargain-basement Fincher, with thrills and chills wholly avoidable by the protagonist. Perhaps there’s a taut 90-minute version of Cat Person that might have been passable, maybe even pretty good. After all, the story’s premise struck a nerve for a reason. And any film featuring Isabella Rossellini and Hope Davis in supporting roles is instantly made better. Even the addition of a plucky sidekick (Geraldine Viswanathan) works better than it should. Still, Cat Person is swallowed by its own bloat, if not its very own ill-conceived existence.
Photo courtesy of Rialto Pictures
The post Cat Person appeared first on Spectrum Culture.