There are so many things wrong with the way this film unfolds that it’s somewhat daunting to know where to begin. So I’ll start with the one thing I did enjoy about the film and that was it’s art direction, which shared the same sort of art-deco stylistic approach of the original Batman and even a trace of Dick Tracy (anybody remember that one?) But even this element of the film chased it’s tail in circles - sometimes going for the bold primary color cartoonish sensibility of the past, and other times aiming at a Bladerunner-esque “talking-billboard” bleak and gritty futuristic slant. Obviously we’re in the future, but the cars are the same and all the cops (except Benjamin Bratt) are running around in 50s garb and toting archaic six-shooters?

I realize that this is the sort of thing that most critics usually mention in passing toward the end of their reviews, but Catwoman is so painfully awful that I figured by postponing any mention of the film’s laughable performances, stilted dialogue, awkward pacing and pointless nonsensical story-advancement, I might at least reduce my chances of offending P.E.T.A. supporters. I’ll admit I’m a cat-person - I prefer their inscrutable, mysterious diffidence (I really do know what those words mean) to a dog’s simple and obvious neediness, still (with all due apologies to Al Stewart) 2004 has not been “the year of the cat.” Just as Garfield tarnished Bill Murray’s Oscar-worthiness, Catwoman strands Halle Berry’s vaunted acting chops way up a tree.

At first glance the basic premise of the plot showed promise, (Evil greedy cosmetic manufacture prepares to market a age-reversing beauty product that is addictive and in truth toxic and deadly--and turns you into a monstrous hag if you discontinue it’s use). Halle plays a mousey graphic designer for the cosmetic magnate named Patience Phillips who innocently discovers this sinister wrinkle in the “wrinkle-reducing” wonder-cream and is rather callously rubbed out. But of course an ancient Egyptian cat has been grooming Halle as the next possible candidate as the new Catwoman in a long line of Catwomen and thus brings her back to life in order that she may exact her revenge upon all of these ne’r-do-wells and ultimately Sharon Stone who turns out to be the Avon Lady from Hell. Quite inexplicably, Sharon’s habitual use of this product has somehow turned her into a bad-ass bitch of a martial artist who becomes the ultimate nemesis to Catwoman. A Toxic Avenger I guess you could say. What’s new Pussycat?

Unfortunately the execution of said plot makes even the worst Power Puff Girls episode look like Citizen Kane. The way this film unfolds from scene to scene reminded me of a parlor game I’ve played a time or two where one person writes a sentence on a notepad then passes it to the next person who writes their sentence and after the paper gets passed around the room with everyone’s incongruous contributions you read it and it’s often rather amusing, and you all have a laugh freshen your drink and then move on to Pictionary.

The major flaw that undermines what might have been a fun little excuse to showcase Halle Berry's indisputable feline comeliness, is the fact that the actors don’t seem to have been informed as to whether their performances are supposed to be campy or straight? Sharon Stone’s basic instincts have abandoned her of late, and all of the other supporting players are stiffly drawn and, if anything, serve to weaken the proceedings. Benjamin Bratt, plays the conflicted cop who is on the hunt for the misunderstood Catwoman, who the media have falsely painted as a killer. Bratt, however, is already smitten by her alter-ego Patience. Ironically (I use the word lightly here) if you’re going to make it through this Kitty Caper you’re going to need more than patience, you’re going to need a Lortab or two.

Grade: D