A stray tabby cat pads silently through urban decay, its luminous green eyes reflecting the neon smear of a city that holds secrets best left undisturbed. This feline wanderer, our unlikely guide, isn't just chasing mice; it's weaving through the shadowy corners of human desperation and fear, knitting together three tales of the uncanny in Lewis Teague's 1985 anthology, Cat's Eye. Penned by the master of modern horror himself, Stephen King, this film often gets overshadowed by his bigger cinematic beasts, but revisiting it on a grainy VHS feels like rediscovering a peculiar, potent little nightmare.
### Through the Feline Lens
Anthologies were a glorious staple of the video store era, weren't they? A cinematic pick 'n' mix promising variety, though sometimes delivering uneven results. Cat's Eye largely dodges that curse, thanks to the clever framing device of the travelling cat – named General in the final segment – connecting otherwise disparate stories. King adapted two of his chilling short stories from the Night Shift collection ("Quitters, Inc." and "The Ledge") and wrote the third ("General") specifically for the film. Director Lewis Teague, who had previously wrangled a different kind of terror in King's Cujo (1983), brings a workmanlike, effective style that lets the inherent creepiness of the tales breathe. The score by a pre-Back to the Future Alan Silvestri adds just the right layer of pulsing dread and occasional whimsy.
### The Price of Quitting
The first segment, "Quitters, Inc.," plunges us headfirst into a particularly grim form of behavior modification. James Woods, in a typically wired and compelling performance, plays Dick Morrison, a chain-smoker desperate to kick the habit. He stumbles upon a shadowy organization run by the chillingly avuncular Dr. Vinnie Donatti (Alan King), whose methods are... extreme. Forget nicotine patches; think systematic, escalating threats against your loved ones if you dare light up. Woods perfectly conveys the mounting panic and paranoia of a man trapped by his addiction and the terrifying 'cure'. There’s a palpable sense of dread here, less supernatural horror and more the cold, clinical terror of inescapable consequences. It's darkly funny in a way only King can be, tapping into the author's own struggles with quitting smoking – a personal exorcism played out on screen. Remember the sheer audacity of that company's methods? It felt disturbingly plausible in its own twisted way.
### High Stakes on a High Ledge
Next, the cat witnesses the plight of Johnny Norris (Robert Hays, miles away from Airplane!), a down-on-his-luck tennis pro caught having an affair with the wife of ruthless casino boss Cressner (Kenneth McMillan). Cressner offers Norris a truly sadistic wager: navigate the narrow ledge encircling his penthouse apartment high above the city, and walk away free (and rich). Fail, and... well. This segment dials up the vertigo-inducing tension. Teague uses perspective shots and careful framing to maximize the sense of precariousness. Sure, some of the miniature work and rear projection might look a little dated now, but back on a flickering CRT, didn't that drop feel terrifyingly real? Apparently, navigating that studio-built ledge set was still nerve-wracking for Hays, even with safety measures in place. It’s a straightforward thriller segment, less nuanced than the first, but undeniably effective in generating pure, palm-sweating suspense.
### A Little Girl's Protector
The final, and arguably most iconic, segment is "General." Here, the cat finally finds its purpose: protecting a young girl named Amanda (an impossibly cherubic Drew Barrymore, already a King veteran after Firestarter the previous year) from a diminutive, dagger-wielding troll that emerges from her bedroom wall at night to steal her breath. This is where Cat's Eye leans fully into creature-feature territory, and honestly, it's brilliant fun. The troll itself, a grotesque little puppet brought to life through meticulous practical effects, is a triumph of 80s movie monster design. It's genuinely creepy, skittering and malevolent, yet imbued with a strange personality. The miniature bedroom set built for the troll's perspective shots is fantastic, turning everyday objects into looming obstacles. The climactic battle between cat and troll, involving a spinning record player and a precarious fan, is pure, unadulterated B-movie bliss. Reportedly, coordinating the movements of the multi-operator troll puppet with the often-unpredictable cat actors was a significant challenge for the filmmakers, requiring immense patience.
### Lingering Shadows and VHS Glow
Cat's Eye might not possess the epic scope of The Stand or the psychological depth of The Shining's film adaptation, but it excels as a tightly crafted, consistently entertaining horror anthology. It captures that specific Stephen King flavour – ordinary people thrust into extraordinary, often terrifying situations, laced with dark humour and a touch of the bizarre. The segments vary in tone, from the grim realism of "Quitters, Inc." to the high-altitude thrills of "The Ledge" and the fantastical creature chaos of "General," but the cat's journey provides a surprisingly effective emotional throughline.
The practical effects, especially the troll, hold up remarkably well in their charming, hand-crafted way – a testament to the tactile artistry of the era. It’s a film that understood the power of suggestion as much as visceral scares, leaving certain horrors chillingly implied (especially in the first segment). It might have earned a modest $13.1 million at the box office against its $7 million budget, but its life on VHS cemented its place as a beloved staple for many horror fans.
Rating: 8/10
This score reflects the film's strength as a consistently engaging and well-crafted anthology. While "The Ledge" is perhaps the slightest segment, "Quitters, Inc." offers genuine dread and dark satire, and "General" delivers iconic creature-feature fun, anchored by excellent practical effects and a strong child performance. James Woods is riveting, the direction is effective, and the Stephen King source material shines through. It perfectly encapsulates the blend of horror, dark humour, and occasional weirdness that made 80s King adaptations so memorable. It remains a purr-fectly unsettling slice of retro horror, guaranteed to evoke that specific thrill of discovering a gem on the video store shelf. Doesn't that little troll still give you the creeps?