Catwoman
The term “camp” comes from the French slang term “se camper,” which means to “pose in an exaggerated fashion.” According to Susan Sontag, “you can’t do camp on purpose.” When camp is at its best as a performance, it is an allusion or a generalization. People performing camp typically have the ability to make a joke out of themselves to make a point, hanging their reputations out to dry for the sake of providing irony to show how social norms are constructed. The camp genre of film somewhat captures in on this, although the intentions of some of the campiest films are often up to debate among filmgoers. John Waters is one filmmaker closely associated with campy films, from Pink Flamingos to Hairspray. Certain celebrities make their livings of off being campy, from Adam West to Pee-wee Herman.
Back to Sontag’s definition for a moment, though. In 1964, she wrote one of the first academic treatments towards the whole idea of camp. In her 1964 essay “Notes on Camp,” Sontag describes an idea of “naïve middle-class pretentiousness and shocking excess” that serves up hefty doses of camp. Examples cited by Sontag of camp including the low budget science fiction films of the 1950s and 1960s and Carmen Miranda’s tutti-frutti hats. Perhaps Sontag may include 2004’s Catwoman on that list. Catwoman fits the bill, as far as I’m concerned, as a film so naïve and so excessive as to venture into dangerous critical territory.
Think, for a moment, of another definition of camp: “banality or artificiality when appreciated for its humour.” Pairing up Catwoman with that definition suddenly changes things, eh? There’s a certain class to which Catwoman belongs, of course, and many who are used to comic book movies taking on a sort of pitiful seriousness might not be able to appreciate the idea of Catwoman entering into a different class. With the dark, moody tones of Spider-man and Batman Begins taking comic books back into the shadows, Catwoman objectionably stands up in a different direction and aims straight for the goofball. Whether this is intentional or not, of course, remains the key question.
Okay. First of all, Catwoman is directed by Pitof. Let me say that again: Catwoman is directed by Pitof. Pitof is a French visual effects director and film director with minimal success and minimal experience. He actually picked up the Razzie for Catwoman, but unlike Halle Berry, he didn’t attend the ceremony to pick up his award. Having Pitof at the helm of Catwoman assured the film of a few things: camp value and bad effects. Looking at Pitof’s film and examining the end results, we can see both within seconds.
The aforementioned Halle Berry struts her stuff as Patience Phillips, a shy woman working for a huge cosmetics company. One day she starts developing a strange affinity for cats as they start to follow her around, including a speckled cat named “Midnight.” Strange. Phillips also begins to develop an affinity for police detective Tom Lone (Benjamin Bratt), who might well possess the coolest cop name ever. One night, Phillips is delivering something to her boss when she overhears her boss scheming with Laurel Hedare (Sharon Stone) to sell defective products to make money. Phillips is caught overhearing this scheme and is killed for it, but she comes back courtesy some cat CPR. With the senses of a cat and a whole lot of questions, Patience develops an affinity for leather outfits and beating people up. She seeks out her vengeance against her former employers and tries to get the guy along the way.
Make no mistake about it, Catwoman is a terrible, terrible film. When spun on its side and given some air, though, it has the ability to enter into camp territory and become extremely entertaining. I feel sorry for Halle Berry, who really got into a film that was supposed to take her in a different direction after Monster’s Ball but instead seems to have bailed on her. Pitof’s direction of the film is downright terrible, giving Berry useless CGI cats and backgrounds to work with in moments where the real objects would have done much better. The director’s determination seems destined to fail, as he skips about through action sequences and shoots things with disregard for who the people are and what they’re doing. A cute basketball sequence between Berry and Bratt turns into hooey, scattered with close-ups and cutaways that do nothing for the fun of the scene.
Catwoman is the quintessential guilty pleasure. With Halle Berry in skin-tight leather with a whip and stilettos, there’s a lot to like about this film. It should be noted that Pitof’s film is based around the character by Bob Kane, but that the character was completely changed for the purposes of the film to give her cat superpowers and a host of other issues. Berry is Patience Phillips, not Selina Kyle, so people expecting Catwoman to remain true to its roots will be disappointed for more than one reason. Nonetheless, Catwoman is a bold new vision of terrible schlocky cinema, but there’s a lot to look at and a lot to laugh at within its hilarious scope.
Trailer:
