The character of Catwoman, definitively embodied by Eartha Kitt in the old Batman television series and dutifully updated by Michelle Pfeiffer in Tim Burton's Batman Returns, has always been a camp dominatrix, a persona not entirely suited to Berry's soft, eager demeanor. She overacts Patience's flaky timidity and then, to compensate, overdoes catwoman's suave self-confidence, swinging her hips and pushing out her lips as if she were trying to attract the amorous attentions of Pepe le Pew.
The feline attribute she most lacks is the one the movie is most desperate to manufacture, which is elegant, graceful cool. Stone compensates somewhat for this deficit, and the climactic battle between Laurel and Patience is sure to thrill anyone who likes to see a good -- forgive me -- cat fight.
Like Garfield, Catwoman is really a parody of catitude, offering glib mockery of a domestic species notorious for its pride and hauteur. It exhibits nothing like the sympathy that Spider-Man brings to the melancholy arachnid soul, or the insight that Shrek 2 offers into donkey neurosis. But the cats of the world will get over this insult. Most likely by sleeping through it.
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