I am not recommending it, precisely. The plot is pretty ridiculous (but hey, Spiderman’s plot isn’t?), and there is zero chemistry between Benjamin Bratt and Halle Berry. Yet it’s a pretty good drive-in movie. Halle Berry’s moves are incredibly catlike; she is sexy as hell. There are some laughs, like her chowing down on canned tuna or peeling the raw fish from the rice when she’s eating sushi, and hissing when dogs bark at her. (I’d have gone further, maybe a giant catbox in the bathroom, a huge scratching post or torn-up upholstery in the living room. When she was first brought back to life by Mungojerry or Rumpleteaser or whichever mysterious jellicle cat it was, she started to cough. A big hairball coming up would have been funny.) But what I enjoyed most was that she liked being a superhero. She reveled in it, didn’t have any angst like Spiderman, wasn’t out to avenge something like Batman. She wasn’t a do-gooder stiff like Superman. She just dug it. Wouldn’t you?