Review of Batman Returns (1992) by Raheem H — 09 Sep 2012

Like Danny DeVito's grotesque, sewer-dwelling Penguin, Tim Burton's "Batman Returns" is a seriously underloved specimen, with a devilish satire about institutional misogyny at its bruise-blackened heart.

Don't let the circus-like pomp and bluster distract you. The script, carved with a razor's edge by "Heathers" scribe Daniel Waters, has perversion on its mind and melancholy in its gut.

For proof, look no further than Michelle Pfeiffer's damaged and daring performance as the sinewy Catwoman, whose true power comes from a burning disgust at all the ways her gender has been dismissed, degraded and disenfranchised.

What boosts Pfeiffer's performance from merely fun to phenomenal, however, is the shadings of self-hatred that underpin her sardonic seductiveness. She dishes it out ferociously, turning her battles with Batman into high-kicking ballets of BDSM foreplay.

But she's also lashing out at the compliant office girl she used to be, acting out with a feverish sexual intensity that gives this dark popcorn gem a sharp-fanged subtext. Catwoman is borne of a late-blooming feminism that has much to account for, and much to put right.

Pfeiffer's haunting performance tells us that nine lives won't quite be enough.