I used to think Halle Berry was hot. Super hot. Then she starred in that “Gay Ass Piece of Sh*t”* Gothika and kissed Fred Durst. Thanks, Mr. Limpbiscuit, for ever tainting the future career of Ms. Pricey Tits.
I can’t even look at her now. Especially when a mask is covering her face and all I can see are those lips. I know where they’ve been. And it’s making me queasy like Easy Cheese…
Hell Mission Statement #41022: CATWOMAN
There, near the end, Pinero (having miraculously survived a crushing blow to his pointed skull by the beautiful Katie Holmes; damn him) sits across from his new girlfriend with the gnawing knowledge that she is also the “mysterious” quasi-hero Catwoman. He’s just seen her do incredibly impossible things with her body. Unimaginable gyrations that would have any other guy drooling. Me? I’d be stuck in a permanent state of awe. This chick can do just about everything that Spider-Man can do. Scale walls, swing from rooftop to rooftop, rip-off zingy one-liners in the face of danger. I’m talking, some pretty God Damn impressive stuff. Any other man would be calling The Guinness Book of World Records and booking her on a live action tour. Maybe videotaping some of that sh*t for Real TV. At the very least, the average male would be scrambling for quarters to dump into the nearby bathroom condom machine (fear of fleas, you know?)…
Nope, not our Pinero. That c*ck-sucking pussy. He just sits there, eyeing Catwoman from across the table, pouting and pissed-off. He’s not the least bit amazed at the things Ms. Berry is capable of. Instead, he sighs with his arms crossed, telling her that he must throw her in jail and that he’s not at all happy with her anti-social behavior. He totally acts like his girlfriend erased the last half of the NBA 4th quarter final before he got a chance to watch it. He takes a coy, wimpy stance. He acts like a little cry-baby; not at all impressed, or even fazed, that the girl he’s been courting has the powers and personality of a cat…
“Is that tuna on your breath, or did you forget to…”
“Do not even think about saying it!”
Cat powers (you know, like giving yourself a professional Hair-Cut and being able to play Basketball like Kobe; because that’s what cats do). That’s right. We all know the story. And at first, this seems to be nothing more than a fleeced-out version of The Crow. That’s a pretty accurate description of the intended proceedings. Girl dies. She’s brought back to life by a kitten named Midnight. Said girl is endowed with the strength, agility, and eyesight of a feline bound for alley prowl. And one by one, she seeks revenge on those that flushed her into the sewer. Yup, sounds like every single Crow movie made to date. Except, this pretty much veers off the vigilante path. It’s not a chaptered account of mercy killings. It actually has a lot of fun moving around in its goofy landscape, leaving little time to any actual paid retribution. The Crow had a very simply, linear beat structure that went something like: Resurrection. Kill thy enemy. Kill thy enemy. Kill thy enemy. The end. Catwoman isn’t really all that concerned with having its protagonist creep around and log-list the Slaughter-By-Numbers formula…
Kill Bill is more Crow than Catwoman. This thing is a campy, loose adaptation of mis-sewn events. I think that’s what it’s supposed to be. It looks and feels like every DC comic ever put on the screen. It’s no worse or better than the last few Batman or Superman movies, and holds pretty true to that esthetic. People will compare it to the other recent Comic Book movie that just came out. And how it doesn’t even compare in scope. Well, this is the DC Universe. It’s story-telling is in the “Powers First, Emotions Later” realm. Spider-Man’s Marvel Origins are on the reverse side of that. Despite its “boo-hoo, I’m Spider-Man” whining, Peter Parker’s second opus drew me into its lush foliage. I became part of the screen, personally involved in the drama. After it was over, I knew I’d just seen a “movie”. That’s the way a Marvel story has always worked. Here, I’m separated from the people on screen. I’m not psychologically attached to them in any way. I’m observing this thing from outside the box; looking down on top of it, if you will. Of course my first instinct is to point out everything that is wrong with it.
But I like looking at this type of film. It is entertaining.
At this point in the game, I only care about one thing. Good or bad, if a movie is fun, then hey, I’m all for it. I’ve got to tell you, this isn’t great filmmaking by any stretch of the definition. But I did have fun. I was never bored. So, yeah, I guess you could say that I “kinda” liked it. “Kinda.”
Oh, the Venomous Rapture. Halle’s latest WB offering is being considered a loser straight out of the gate. Blame the negativity on one website alone. Aint It Cool News has back-slapped this bitch so far into that gravel that it barely stands any given chance of recovery. Word of Mouth travels fast, and the spit they’ve shined past a thousand computer screens has eaten its way beyond the casual, keyboard enthusiast and into the hearts of any generalized, normal seeming robot. Ask your fellow passer-by on the street, and she/he’ll tell you that “Catwoman sucks chinchilla penis!” without even having seen it.
That’s the way things work nowadays. I won’t lie to you. 3 out of the 15 people in attendance at the Warner Brothers Press screening got up and walked out of the theater before Halle even had a chance to change into her leather bustier. This isn’t an easy thing to do. There are WB executives in attendance, waiting for your given view on the subject at hand. Walking out might take you off whatever coveted list they keep. You risk a lot by walking out of a screening being held on the Studio Lot. One where the director is in attendance. It takes balls. It’s not like walking out of some free screening at a public theater. Most of the PR people go home after the lights are down. And if they see you get up and leave, they probably just think you’re getting up to go to the bathroom. Not here, not in this situation…
On one hand, I applaud those guys for having the courage not to waste anymore of their time sitting in front of this huge, life-sucking force. But, then, they’re going to go write a negative review about a movie they missed more than 81%. It’s unfair to the film and all the people involved. Either sit through the whole thing, or tell the reader that you only saw the first ten minutes and then walked out.
Hmm. I’ve never seen that kind of review in People, or Newsweek, or Entertainment Weekly. And those are the kinds of publications that skipped out on the bulk of Catwoman (I know because these people were very loud before the movie started. And the two guys that sat next to me kept hogging my armrests. I wanted to kill them.)
This movie isn’t rocket science. I’m not trying to account for its weaknesses. Parts of it are incredibly stupid, and a lot of the humor falls flat. It’s ridiculous and silly in a so bad, it’s almost good kind of way. This is an obvious B movie suited up to big budget standards. That kills a bit of its appeal.
So does its Super Hero packaging. This thing is so girly-girl that it’s almost hard to stomach. I think that’s its major downfall. Call it a turn off. Catwoman is couched at the bottom of a purse like a piece of chewed, flavorless gum wrapped in tissue paper. It’s that off-leather smell, mixed with the nostril burn of make-up and cinnamon. This thing is all about lipstick, and painted nails, and empowered woman. Most guys find that to be a turn off when mixed together with comic book folklore. This thing smells like a tube of hand cream. We don’t want that. We want axel grease and the blue stench of gunpowder sparks. (Does anyone else think that this plot is weird? It’s semi-anti-Make-Up, and preaches against the use and overexposure of age defying facial products…Yet, in every shot, Ms. Berry, hardcore Revlon Representative, is caked in billow fluffs of junk...How am I supposed to walk away from this? What am I supposed to be feeling? What’s the message? Maybe I’m just not supposed to think. Yeah…That’s probably a good idea. Maybe I should just put my brain on hold for 101 minutes…)
Another thing; Halle Berry as Patience Phillips just does not get the job done. Don’t get me wrong, she’s an awesome Catwoman. She sells that sh*t home, purring, hissing, and walking on the back of the couch like a pro. But the whole first part of the movie, I’m just not buying it. Patience is supposed to be this dowdy, unattractive, meek little mess of a girl. Berry simply can’t pull it off. She’s too beautiful. We’ve seen her throw her tits around one too many times. And that face. You can’t hide it behind a bad mess of roused-up hair. It just doesn’t work. She still looks like Halle Berry.
And maybe that’s why those people left so early.
Once Halle slides into that tight leather cat suit, though, I was okay with it. What can I say? I like looking at the girl. And that accounts for more than most of this film’s appeal.
I’ll be buying this one on DVD. If you don’t want to see it because you think it’s going to be bad, then don’t. Nobody cares. Go waste your money on some other useless thing, and get out of my face with your hesher mentality…
Douche Bag, Bob-Wannabe…
Yes. Throw it down on any type of given record…B. Alan Orange likes Catwoman. Good. If that doesn’t get you to stop reading my reviews, nothing will. (I hate this job, but they won't fire me.)
And I never liked you anyways. F*ck you and your cocktail parties, bee-otch!
*(see B. Alan Orange's review for Gothika)
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