Batman Returns (1992)
Michelle Pfeiffer. That’s it – the entire explanation contained in two words. All those criticisms that were levelled at Tim Burton’s second swing at the Big Bad Bat – such as ‘too many villains’, ‘too pantomime-y’, ‘too many plot twists’ – are all invalidated by the absolutely purrfect purrformance of Michelle Pfeiffer, as an abused woman suffering a psychotic break.
Pfeiffer presents her pre-fall Selina as a timid, jumpy, self-conscious person – terrified of her own shadow and easily bullied by her evil boss, Max Shreck. When he throws her out of a window for being too curious, she returns a changed woman – completely consumed with the desire for revenge and, more importantly, completely prepared to go get it.
But it is the wholeness of her performance that is the crowning achievement here. She simply is the Cat. It’s in her voice, her movement and even her gaze. Every single part of her exudes an all-encompassing feline nature. Batman had Jack Nicholson’s Joker – and that was a great turn. But it never really shakes the sense that we’ve seen him play a version of that character many times before.
We have never seen Pfeiffer do this – before or since – and it is the weighty centre of a film that is darker, and edgier than its predecessor. De Vito makes a great Penguin. Christopher Walken is fine as Shreck. But, it is Pfeiffer’s Catwoman that makes this a superbly superior sequel.