The Living Idol (1957)

‘The strain of mysticism in his thinking seemed a natural expression of his bold and original intellect.’

A noted academic discovers the statue of a jaguar inside the summit of a Mayan pyramid. His Mexican partner dies in an accident at the dig site, and he adopts the dead man’s grown-up daughter. However, she is strangely affected by the artefact, and the archaeologist becomes increasingly obsessed by her relationship with it…

An unusual tale of Mexcian folklore, reincarnation and human sacrifice from American writer-director Albert Lewin shot on location at the ancient Mayan city of Uxmal. A native supporting cast is joined by a multi-national trio in the leading roles; James Robertson Justice from Lewisham in England, Steve Forrest from Huntsville, Texas and prima ballerina Liliane Montevecchi from Paris with Italian roots.

Doctor Alfred Stoner (Justice) is a long way removed from your usual archaeologist, focusing as much on the mystic aspects of ancient civilisations as their material ones. When he discovers the idol of a jaguar within a Mayan pyramid, he’s more interested in the reaction of Jaunita (Montevecchi) than the statue itself. She bolts from the pyramid in a blind panic with Forrest in hot pursuit and into the arms of her father Manuel (Eduardo Noriega). She can’t explain her visceral reaction, but Justice is already factoring it into his notions of reincarnation and ancient beliefs.

Long-time family friend and journalist, Terry Matthews (Forrest) isn’t really prepared to buy into any spiritual implications of Montevecchi’s behaviour, pegging it as an adolescent reaction. He’s also somewhat unprepared for her visit to his tent in the dead of night and her declaration of love for him. Awkwardly, Noriega arrives and Montevecchi has to hide under his bed but, fortunately the old Mexican knows his daughter only too well, and is more concerned that she’s come out barefoot in a country teeming with snakes and scorpions.

Complicating the budding love affair, Forrest is leaving for an assignment in Korea, but Noriega is killed in a freak accident before he departs. Justice and Mexican wife Elena (Sara García) step into the breach, adopting the new orphan and taking her back to Mexico City, along with the spoils of the expedition. Returning from the war some months later, Forrest finds Montevecchi suffering from a strange illness. Weirder still, Justice believes he can affect a cure by visiting a real-life jaguar every night after closing time at the zoo and talking to it in the dead Mayan language.

Many commentators consider the film a poor version of Val Lewton’s classic ‘Cat People’ (1942), but that’s a somewhat unfair comparison. There are some superficial similarities to the story, but Lewin is not concerned so much with horror thrills as examining the nature of belief; in cultures both ancient and modern. His script considers the pervasive nature of superstition and faith. Of course, Forrest is the hard-headed realist, but Justice presents a more interesting side of modern man. He’s a scientist whose studies have unlocked the mystic, primitive nature in his soul and with dangerous consequences.

If all this sounds like a recipe for a lot of chat and not much else, well, that is a fair criticism that can be levelled at Lewin’s film. Justice gives a rather lengthy lecture to students on human sacrifice and its implications in modern human society and behaviour. I found it fascinating and thought-provoking and would undoubtedly sign up for his class if I had the chance. However, the lesson occurs with only half an hour of the film remaining when more plot development and a build-up to the climax would have been a wiser choice.

In general terms, the human drama is a little lacking. Justice has the most compelling character and brings an appropriate gravitas and humour to the role, but his final actions need a more substantial and explicit justification. The relationship between Forrest and Montevecchi also strikes very few sparks, and the scene where they dance in front of a poorly rendered green screen was either an odd stylistic choice or the result of a vanishing budget, which is not evident elsewhere. The overuse of voiceover, particularly in the poorly paced final minutes, is also unfortunate. The images speak for themselves. It’s an addition that may not have been the director’s choice.

However, this shortfall isn’t so noticeable in the film’s first half due to the location work. The ruins at Uxmal are visually stunning, and the Cinemascope process allows Lewin to frame some exquisite compositions. His visual skill is also evident later on when it’s displayed without the assistance of such a spectacular backdrop. The film is allegedly based on Lewin’s novel of the same title, but it seems this was an attempt to justify the literary leanings of the script as no such publication appears to exist. The director did publish one novel in 1966 after a heart attack forced him out of the movie business, but ‘The Unusual Cat’ focuses on an academic’s wife who transforms into a deadly feline.

Lewin was a scholar who entered the film world after being inspired by Robert Weine’s expressionist classic ‘The Cabinet of Dr Caligari (1919). He was in on the ground floor when MGM was formed in 1923 and became head of their script department four years later. As a producer, he tied his wagon to the star of legendary young executive Irving Thalberg and became his personal assistant. However, after Thalberg’s early death, he left the studio, only to return with the understanding that he could take occasional time off to direct his own projects. His most successful were adaptations of famous literary works; W Somerset Maugham’s ‘The Moon and Sixpence’ (1942) and Oscar Wilde’s ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ (1945), which remains the definitive cinematic version of the book to this day. The latter features the figurine of an Egyptian temple cat, which seems to have a hand in proceedings. I guess Professor Stoner wasn’t the only one with a feline obsession!

Rene Cardona, famous for many outlandish horror titles, is credited as Associate Mexican Director on the production and was involved with shooting second unit material. As a result, some sources have suggested that Lewin piggybacked his film on an unfinished feature by Cardona. However, there is no evidence to support this assertion in the finished movie; all the principal cast are present throughout, and there are no sequences that look out of place. It’s far more likely that Cardona received the extra credit because he worked as a liaison between the Spanish and English-speaking members of the cast and crew. A similar arrangement to how director Mario Bava worked on big Hollywood studio productions shot at the Cinecitta Studios in Rome in the early 1960s.

An offbeat film that has some curious elements. Those expecting a straight horror film are likely to be seriously disappointed, but it’s worth a look if you want to see something a little different.

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