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.<br /><br />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.