Catwoman (2004)

Notorious clusterfuck Catwoman is a prime example of a film that suffers from what I call: "French Director Syndrome". Wherein the director of said film originates from the country of France. Symptoms include: Unnecessary hypersexualization, gaudy visually-assaulting images, an overstuffed story, and inexplicable mountains of cash for a budget. Catwoman might as well be terminal and resting on its deathbed. And while the failure of the film is really a "death by 1000 scratches", it doesn't help that it feels like director Pitof massacred American superhero cinema and wore its skin trying to "How do you do, fellow kids?" his way to the top. There's no mistaking how obviously French it is, like a dried cat turd sitting atop the crusty sand of a flimsy litter box. And poor Halle Berry was the one everyone looked to in order to clean up the mess.

Fresh off her Oscar win, Halle Berry is never seen as monumental but her passion and charisma is undeniable. And honestly, as terrible of a performance she gives, the poor woman is at least giving it her all. It's not like Pitof was giving her great direction to work with. Any actor would give a performance as disjointed and spastic as hers if they were set to embody a character who has the agility of a panther, the stealth of a cat burglar, wears skimpy black leather bikinis, dons an Indiana Jones whip, excels at…basketball; and wants to topple a multi-million dollar beauty corporation helmed by Sharon Stone that sells addictive anti-aging cream. I mean, what was she supposed to say when they told her: "You get your powers from a cat mouth-farting in your eyeball." Was she supposed to turn down millions of dollars and the first Hollywood superhero film led by a black woman for integrity?

In general it seems like everyone on Catwoman knew it would be a piece of cat shit so they went big and failed hard. And it's not like there was zero effort put into the project. French Director Syndrome may have its downsides but it can also birth something bafflingly unique and indulgent. The way the camera refuses to stay chained to gravity and weaves through scenes like it broke out of the mental ward. The cartoonish action sequences cut as if the editor was contractually obligated to use every bit of coverage. The visuals that look like the predominant early 2000's style accidentally left to curdle in the blazing sun. Even the music verges on gleeful parody with the generic soulful "Woah woah"s repeated to oblivion like the 1960's Batman bumper.

Catwoman is the opposite of auteur cinema, and in this case the committee is so out of touch and disjointed that it's impossible for me to genuinely hate. It sucks, it's one of the worst movies I've seen in a long long time. But the pure enjoyment I derived from this warped idea of a superhero film that would connect with the public is too much to deny. The track record it has for being consistently baffling through its laborious runtime is nothing short of impressive. Around every corner, within almost every shot, there's something to laugh at or make fun of. It's telling of the modern superhero landscape when I've derived more memorable pleasure from this than any other cape-flick in recent memory. Catwoman had nine lives, wasted them all, but still lands on its feet in my eyes.