When people ask me the plot of the movie Catwoman, I have a tendency to describe it as “Halle Berry’s breasts.” This has always seemed like the best answer to me; after all, it’s not about the DC Comics superhero of the same name, it’s not about any sort of action hero at all, and the protagonist’s costume provides the audience with a considerable amount of breastage. However, I’ve realized lately that there is a problem with this conveniently simple description, since it implies that the entire movie is meant to entice horny male audiences with the cleavage of its star, much like every movie Pamela Anderson has ever been in. Unfortunately, Catwoman is something far less simple. I will still firmly insist that Halle Berry’s breasts give the best performance in the entire movie, and I will defend that position against anyone who says otherwise. Still, as it turns out, a movie like this is actually more than the sum of its breasts. Catwoman is something far worse than a breast fest. Catwoman is a chick flick.
I first saw Catwoman when it came out, during the summer of 2004. Considering that this was a full seven years ago, my memory of it for a long time consisted pretty much of Halle Berry getting killed by someone, then putting on a silly cat outfit, drinking cream “straight up,” and walking around on some buildings for 40 minutes. It’s not a movie I think about often, so I’d have been perfectly happy with that vague image floating around in my mind, were it not for the fact that recently I saw the DVD on sale at Barnes and Noble for less than five dollars. If you happen to speak price tag, you’ll know that a recent Hollywood movie going for less than five dollars roughly translates to “we fucked up and we’re desperate; please help us,” so, being a glutton for punishment, and being the owner of a B&N gift card with considerably more than five dollars on it, I threw the store a bone and bought a copy.
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Uh...got milk? |
On a second viewing, I found my previous idea of what Catwoman was to be pretty accurate. The plot is that a woman gets killed by the evil boss of a cosmetics company to stop her from revealing that their new miracle product is toxic, but is later resurrected with ambiguous superpowers, and sets out for revenge. This alone isn’t a terrible idea for a story, although it also happens to be the exact same plot as a two-part episode of Batman: The Animated Series called “Feat of Clay,” which is the closest the movie comes to adapting any DC Comics material. The problem is that without any other elements to develop this plot (and there aren’t any), there’s enough material for a thirty-minute movie, maybe 40 if you add some Batman.
Considering that Catwoman is an hour and 40 minutes long, there must be something else going on here, since even Halle Berry’s breasts can’t fill an hour of screen time. It all begins to make sense when you add the story elements that men have been trained from birth to ignore, which are written in an arcane language called “periphery demographic” and collectively make up the dreaded romantic subplot. In this case, the romantic subplot involves Patience Phillips (the supposed name of this Halle Berry character) falling in love with a handsome police detective after he tries to save her life because of a wacky misunderstanding, only for him to discover that her secret Catwoman persona may be too hot for him to handle. Or, since the action story alone takes up less than half the movie, it might be safe to say that this is the main plot of Catwoman.
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Yes, Halle Berry playing basketball is the best action sequence in the movie |
Catwoman has all of the hallmarks of a generic, shoddily scrapped together chick flick. It stars a beautiful young woman who has the good looks of a supermodel, yet other characters don’t recognize this because her hair is frizzy (seriously, the only women who ever have frizzy hair in movies are those who are unsure of themselves, so that later they can have a makeover that releases their inner beauty). She’s the best artist in town, but isn’t appreciated by people because she doesn’t assert herself. She has a supportive but less glamorous female friend, and a sassy gay male friend to tell her she’s worth it. Or, in the case of the sassy gay friend, to describe the handsome detective as a “man sandwich,” which I assume is supposed to be some sort of sassy gay compliment. And most importantly, she gets a makeover halfway through the movie that allows her to assert herself, take charge of her life, and win over the sweet, caring man of her dreams. It just so happens that this makeover comes in the form of ambiguous cat powers. If I wanted to be kind I would say that Catwoman was two different movies rolled into one, but in all honesty, the fact that the scene of Patience Phillips on a date at an amusement park is longer and probably better than the final climactic fight scene (or rather, the only fight scene) tells me that the action subplot is just there to stop the people who wanted a movie about Catwoman, or at least a movie about a superhero, from rioting.
I’m not bothered all that much by the fact that Catwoman is a chick flick, because in all honesty, a bad chick flick isn’t much worse than a bad action movie. However, what does concern me is what this means for the future of superhero movies. Although it has virtually nothing to do with its source material, Catwoman is still one of the few superhero movies to star a female character. I’ve heard people express concern that should a Wonder Woman movie ever be made (and after Batman, Superman, and Green Lantern, that’s probably the biggest draw DC would have at the box office) Wonder Woman might be mischaracterized by being made into some sort of sex symbol. I think that if anything the bigger risk we run is Diana being turned into a Patience Phillips who spends the movie learning to believe in herself.
Hollywood seems to believe by and large that women enjoy watching bad movies. There’s always the slight chance that women really do love bad movies, in which case they shouldn’t be allowed into movie theaters for the good of society, but somehow doubt that to be the case. Putting women in the superhero role raises a question: are movies about women somehow inherently girly enough that women become the main demographic? And as more female superheroes hit the screen, are producers going to take it upon themselves to dilute the genre with more unnecessary, supposedly girly elements?
And on that note, where’s my Jennifer Government movie?
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