Catwoman – or should I say “the movie that took the title of a beloved comic and created its own litter box with the character” – is a film that Julie Newmar would roll over in her grave if she watched this POS, directed by a single-named director that nobody remembers because they walked out long before the credits rolled.
The movie stars Oscar-winning actress, Halle Berry, in the role of Patience Phillips. That’s right. Not Selena Kile like the actual comic named her, but who really cares since it’s just Halle. Anyhoo, our original fairy tale story begins with put-upon-frumpy-because-she-wears-goodwill-sweatshirts-but-has-a-heart-of-gold-and-hidden-genius Cinderella…I mean Catwoman because-nobody-can-be-that-hot-and-not-be-a-supermodel-at-a-cosmetics-company.
Halle works her tookus off on the new cosmetics line for her marble-faced middle-aged ex-model-slash-psychopath overlord boss doing their best Gordon Gekko in full villainy mode…and his mousy wife, Sharon Stone. On the night Halle is supposed to present her billion-dollar marketing idea to her boss at midnight…because every pre-#MeToo era business meeting with a powerful male boss and a frightened-for-her-job female underling happened at midnight don’tchaknow.
I’m wondering if Harvey Weinstein produced this? But I digress. Halle shows up to the abandoned building because all the security and nightly janitorial staff has been given the night off like they always do with fortune-500 companies. So Halle innocently finds the only open exterior door that just happens to be the entrance to the top-secret, password-protected, super-toxic basement that all cosmetics companies have that don’t actually need a password or locking mechanism.
Halle walks to the end of the hallway and opens a door that magically leads directly to the bad guys coincidentally talking about the dangers of the deadly face cream her company is launching in two days, but she is discovered, chased back down to the basement only, surprise, the basement has now magically transported to the rooftop where she is flushed with a billion gallons of toxic sludge into the harbor because all toxins are allowed to freely flush into the public waterways where she dies…but don’t fear.
Because Halle has an ancient mystical Egyptian cat that gives her mouth-to-mouth back to life, except now Halle is one mean pussy with super powers like slam dunking baskets, walking awkwardly in high heels, cracking a whip like a drunk dominatrix, and licking herself clean after a round of doggy-style with the cute detective that just happens to be the only detective in the gigantic city whenever a crime is committed.
Many CGI hijinks and cliched one-liners happen for the next hour or so but since the writers were too bored to actually put any thought into the screenplay, I won’t put any more into this summary. In summation, Halle gets to wear a form-fitting catsuit designed by Stevie Wonder and Glad Trash Bags, the world is saved from toxic face cream, the evil marble-bodied Sharon Stone does a Hans Gruber onto the street below, the detective gets to pet Halle’s kitty a lot more, and Catwoman gets to break her lower back trying to strut along a rooftop in heels and a black mask because all women walk like that to look sexy.