by Shane Conto, Staff Writer

What is one of the most frustrating and stressful experiences as a human being today? Dating. It sucks. In a time where we are all working all the time to make ends meet, we struggle to meet people in real situations, and to build connections. I am sure the pandemic did not help with that (not me personally, as I thankfully haven’t had to date since 2018). But the dating world has turned into a world of text messages and matches on dating apps. So where is the divide with the people we get to meet via their texting, versus the people we eventually experience in real life?

Where can you find a cinematic experience that captures this awkwardness and discomfort? Cat Person. Based on a famed The New Yorker short story from Kristen Roupenian, this must have been popular enough to gain the attention of a film studio and director Susanna Fogel. That is because it is so unbelievably relatable. Sure, the story takes a bit of an intense turn with our protagonist (a college student, played by Emilia Jones, employed at a movie theater) dating an older man, and fearing the true intention of his conquest of her. That is one of the greatest fears of women on these apps: What if the guy turns out to be some crazy killer and molester? But does it go beyond that? Misjudging of actions and intentions due to the anxieties of the whole experience. The discomfort of that first kiss to judge if the physical compatibility is there. Cat Person does not shy away from any of these ideas.

But what does Fogel wield to deliver on the combination of contrasting genres — black comedy and psychological thriller? The script certainly goes right for the jokes and the biting commentary around dating. There are whole characters there to make sure the perspectives are heard (one is Geraldine Viswanathan’s Taylor, who never shies from the opportunity to lampoon dating or the “older man” her best friend is dating), and a healthy dose of legitimately funny dialogue, which is certainly appreciated. But it is Fogel’s fine direction that controls the heightening tension that puts the audience on the edge. Our protagonist, Margot, has strange dreams, and unfortunately paranoid reimagined events, in contrast with what is going on. But who can blame her in the toxic and awkward online dating landscape? That is what makes it so effective.

What (or who) are the best assets for this tense dark comedy? Jones, for one. Her leading turn reinforces why we loved her in CODAand continues so in Cat Person. She brings so much authenticity to Margot, which makes her empathetic and relatable (which is especially important as this film continues into its second and third act). Everyone’s favorite awkward cousin from Succession, Nicholas Braun, takes a different route in creating his character here. He is so strange and unnerving. When he starts throwing around pet names to Margot, your skin is going to crawl. This one-two punch makes for an interesting dynamic.

But does Fogel’s thriller keep things going throughout its two-hour runtime? One of the biggest challenges of adapting short stories into feature films is the gamble of effectively expanding upon someone else’s narrative in an organic way. Cat Person struggles with that, as it loses its way as the runtime increases. Drawing upon familiar erotic thriller tropes, the film’s quality drops when it must rely on overly familiar beats and some craziness that just come off feeling like a bridge too far. What could have certainly worked as a consistently poignant short film loses its muster at roughly two hours of runtime.

But does Cat Person still deliver a journey worth taking? It still feels relatable, even though it forgets itself as it goes. As an adaptation, it at least captures the purpose and effective messages of its source material. The cast also does plenty of heavy lifting to bring this uncomfortable yet truly relatable experience to life.

Rating: It Was Just Okay

Cat Person is currently playing in theaters


You can read more from Shane Conto, and follow him on Instagram, and Letterboxd