"Catwoman" is a movie about Halle Berry's beauty, sex appeal, figure, eyes, lips and costume design. It gets those right. Everything else is secondary, except for the plot, which is tertiary. What a letdown. The filmmakers have given great thought to photographing Berry, who looks fabulous, and little thought to providing her with a strong character, story, supporting characters or action sequences. In a summer when "Spider-Man 2" represents the state of the art, "Catwoman" is tired and dated.
Although the movie's faults are many, the crucial one is that we never get any sense of what it feels like to turn into a catwoman. The strength of "Spider-Man 2" is in the ambivalence that Peter Parker has about being part nerdy student, part superhero. In "Catwoman," where are the scenes where a woman comes to grip with the fact that her entire nature and even her species seems to have changed?
catwoman movie review
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Berry plays Patience Phillips, a designer for an ad agency, who dies and is reborn after Midnight, a cat with ties to ancient Egypt, breathes new life into her. She becomes Catwoman, but what is a catwoman? She can leap like a cat, strut around on top of her furniture, survive great falls and hiss. Berry looks great doing these things, and spends a lot of time on all fours, inspiring our almost unseemly gratitude for her cleavage.
She gobbles down tuna and sushi. Her eyes have vertical pupils instead of round ones. She sleeps on a shelf. The movie doesn't get into the litter box situation. What does she think about all of this? Why isn't she more astonished that it has happened to her? How does it affect her relationship with that cute cop, Tom Lone (Benjamin Bratt)?
The movie makes it clear that they make love at least once, but we don't see that happening because "Catwoman," a film that was born to be rated R, has been squeezed into the PG-13 category to rake in every last teenage dollar. From what we know about Catwoman, her style in bed has probably changed along with everything else, and sure enough, the next day he notices a claw mark on his shoulder. Given the MPAA's preference for violence over sex, this might have been one sex scene that could have sneaked in under the PG-13.
Soon she has a dual identity: Patience by day, Catwoman by night. She already knows Tom Lone. They met when she crawled out of her window and balanced on an air conditioner to rescue Midnight, and Tom thought she was committing suicide and saved her after she slipped. Uh, huh. That meeting begins a romance between Patience and Tom that is remarkable for its complete lack of energy, passion and chemistry. If the movie had been 10 minutes longer, it would have needed a scene where they sigh and sadly agree their relationship is just not working out. One of those things. Not meant to be.
The villains are Laurel and Georges Hedare (Sharon Stone and Lambert Wilson). He runs the cosmetics company and fires his wife as its model when she turns 40. She is not to be trifled with, especially not in a movie where the big fight scene is a real catfight, so to speak, between the two women. Stone's character is laughably one-dimensional, but then that's a good fit for this movie, in which none of the characters suggest any human dimensions and seem to be posing more than relating. Take Georges, for example, whose obnoxious mannerisms are so grotesque he's like the "Saturday Night Live" version of Vincent Price.
Awkward and clumsy as a cat in high heels, this version of the comic book character Catwoman does not have enough to sustain one life, much less nine. The plot is thin and the script and editing have an unfinished, even inept feel. Berry seems to confuse a cat walk with a catwalk, prancing in heels as though she is an unusually busty runway model in next year's dominatrix fashion show. There's something hypocritical at best and absurd at worst to pretend to be about empowerment and freeing women from the need to conform to narrow standards of youth and beauty when the movie's heroine looks like Catwoman Barbie at a goth B&D rally.
One of the largest hairballs that choke this movie is the complete inability of Laurel Hedare (Sharon Stone) to be suitably over-the-top enough to make the final catfight memorable. In costume crusader stories, the bad guys have to be just as fantastic in their own way as their counterparts, even when they are fighting morally ambiguous, prowling kitties like Catwoman.
Families can talk about the twin-nature theme that runs throughout the movie. Why might many comic book characters, including Catwoman, have such strong dichotomous characters? What does this mean about their ability to express their "true selves" in their ordinary lives? Ophelia discusses seemingly contradictory traits that she describes as female, yet she herself does not seem to wear a mask. How might Ophelia and other characters express themselves fully without splitting their personalities so dramatically? Why did they pick the name "Ophelia," associated with Hamlet's tragic love?
Without pussyfooting around, I can state that Catwoman is a catastrophe. An amalgamation of bad clichés purr-loined from other, better superhero movies (not that there are many - if any - that can be considered worse), this motion picture is an embarrassment to all involved, from single-named director Pitof (whose moniker sounds like something often done to rice) to Halle Berry, who has by now thrown away all of the goodwill she gained from appearing in Monsters Ball. One is tempted to say that ritual disembowelment is too good for those who have perpetrated this abomination on the comic book-loving movie-going public. But that would be hyperbole, if only barely.
The idea for a Catwoman was first conceived shortly after Michelle Pfeiffer made an impression as the character in the second Batman movie. For a while, Pfeiffer was attached to the project. Eventually, either because she lost interest or grew older than Hollywood's female age ceiling, the rumor mill replaced her with Ashley Judd, then Halle Berry. What's amazing is that, some time during the dozen years when this project was churning behind-the-scenes at Warner Brothers, no one had the good sense to put a stop to it. This is how train wrecks happen - brakes are not applied in time to prevent an expensive and career-damaging accident. It remains to be seen whether Catwoman will do for Berry what Gigli did for Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez, but one thing is clear: compared to Catwoman's kitty chow, Gigli is caviar.
Pitof directs MTV-style. He cuts during action sequences every 0.5 seconds to make sure that the viewer can never be sure exactly what's going on. Aside from agitating people with motion sickness, this approach allows a male stunt double to stand-in for Berry without the Y-chromosome being noticed. In the close-ups, it's obviously Berry. However, while Pfeiffer's stint as Catwoman caused a leather cat suit mini-fashion rage, the only place where Berry's costume will be popular is in S&M circles. And most people into that lifestyle already have similar paraphernalia. One is tempted to say that the only reason to see this movie is to ogle Berry's body, but since she has shown more flesh in better movies (Swordfish for the popcorn crowd; Monsters Ball for those who prefer dramas), that's not much of a selling point.
As poorly written, ineptly directed, and hideously acted as Catwoman is, its biggest sin is that it's boring. This movie does not offer a single worthwhile, interesting, or exciting scene. The action is dull, predictable, and repetitive. Ever thought a catfight between Sharon Stone and Halle Berry could rival a dose of valium as an effective sleep-inducer? I suppose Pitof deserves a measure of respect for being able to achieve something I would have argued was not possible.
Catwoman treads close to the so-bad-it's-enjoyable line, but, at least for me, it fails to cross over, despite a valiant attempt. As far as I'm concerned, it's just plain bad. Nothing redeeming here. Others, who are either more generous than I or drunk at the time of their assessment, may be able to uncover some camp value. I wish them luck, because such a quest means that they will have to sit through the movie. Despite its feline pretensions, Catwoman belongs to another animal family - it's either a dog or a turkey. Take your pick.
This isn't the slinky anti-heroine of the Batman comic books or Tim Burton movie. It isn't even a tongue-in-cheek tribute to any of the Catwomen (Julie Newmar, Eartha Kitt) from the campy '60s TV show. In the hands of Halle Berry and French visual effects whizz-turned-director Pitof, Catwoman is a new breed of feline. And not an attractive one.
Starting from scratch, with no connection to the previous incarnations, this Catwoman has more in common - storywise, at least - with undead avenger The Crow. Halle Berry does all she can to sex up the stale proceedings once she's transformed from frowzy wallflower into lithe whip-cracker. Sadly, despite her still undeniable screen presence and poised intensity, Berry fails to break out of the formulaic Hollywood summer movie routine. Patience tests out her new abilities (she has keen senses! She's supernaturally agile! She drinks milk! She hisses at dogs!) and squeezes into a ludicrous costume to, sort of, fight crime, before embarking on a mewling rampage of revenge. Fetish-freak-reject wardrobe aside, the biggest problem here is the logic-starved plot, revolving around a cosmetics conspiracy in which Lambert Wilson and his scheming spouse, Sharon Stone, invent a face cream which dissolves your skin if you stop using it.
While it takes far too long to get to this point, the movie does pick up once female empowerment takes over. Girls, at least very young ones, will thrill to the role reversals, and guys will dig the revealing leather costume (even as fans of the comic books will disparage the disguise). Even here, though, one might wish Berry were more catlike. Since when do cats sashay their hips? And because Berry is not an experienced martial artist, Pitof must stage her fights in quick cuts with ample visual effects. 2ff7e9595c
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