Warner Bros./DC Comics
The moment it was announced that Anne Hathaway would play Selina Kyle in Christopher Nolan's next Batman movie, the Internet lit up with dismay. Selina Kyle, of course, is the secret identity of Catwoman, one of the more iconic characters in Batman's long history. And, though some greeted the news with excitement, many fans argued that casting Hathaway was a fatal choice. She was too sweet for the role, they said; she wasn't serious enough; she didn't have enough edge.
But whether or not time proves these fans right, the controversy seems inevitable. The moment Nolan condemned himself to casting an actress as Catwoman, he condemned himself to casting the wrong one. The truth is, Selina Kyle has had so many personalities, backstories, and identities that the question isn't whether Hathaway's casting is faulty, but whether any potential casting could possibly be correct.
Catwoman's backstory started off simply enough in the original comic: A pretty, brunette, unexceptional stewardess boarded an airplane. The plane crashed. She survived, but could recall nothing about her former life. And so, she did what anyone would do: She committed a variety of extremely complicated robberies, while dressed as a cat. During an early heist (very early; this would be Batman #1, published in 1940) she crossed paths with a man whose hobby was preventing extremely complicated robberies, while dressed as a bat. Sparks flew. (Memorable pick-up line: "Quiet, or Papa spank!") Things went on from there.
But they became more complicated in subsequent comics and film adaptations. Catwoman's backstory eventually became a dizzying tangle of revisions. She didn't turn to crime because she had amnesia; she did it to rob her abusive ex-husband. And she wasn't a flight attendant; she was a wealthy socialite. Or, wait, no: She was a poor prostitute, beaten and raped by her pimp. Or, wait, no: She only pretended to be a prostitute. Or, wait, how about this? She was a secretary whose sexist boss pushed her out of a window. And she wasn't brunette, she was blonde. But wait, wasn't she also a black woman? She looked like Eartha Kitt. And Halle Berry. But she also looked like Julie Newmar, so... okay, wait, wait, wait: Catwoman is a poor girl, with an abusive father, and at one point she tried to be a prostitute, but she didn't get any clients, so she poses as a socialite, and has turned to a life of crime. Simple. Sorry for any confusion.
In fact, only one thing about Catwoman has remained consistent: She has always been a very bad girl. In fact, she's been just about every kind of bad girl you can imagine. The impressive part is been how thoroughly she's managed to position herself, in every era, as the exact opposite of a well-behaved woman.
In 1940, when women were aiding the war effort, she was an aggressively selfish, sexual character—in that first issue, after "Papa spank," we were treated to a shot of Catwoman lounging on a chair, making double-entendres about being "licked," as Batman knelt between her legs; in their future encounters, she'd be the one with the whip, who'd rather steal than work. In the 1950s, when "femininity" and domesticity were on the rise, she revealed a past in the workforce, "reformed" briefly, and then changed her mind, worrying that her feelings for Batman were impeding her burgling career. In the 1960s, she was a black woman who flirted openly with a white man, when she wasn't tying up his loved ones. In the 70s, as feminism gained acceptance, she became a housewife. (In an alternate reality, and in stately Wayne manor. Still!) And when the 1980s hit, and the anti-feminist backlash rose, the characterizations exploded: Vindictive ex-wife. Prostitute. Rape her, beat her up: Make her suffer, it makes her more realistic. It explains why she's so angry at men. And she deserves it.href> Frank Miller, one of the more notoriously misogynisthref> writers in the industry, even wrote her as an aging, brothel-running spinster, placing lonely booty calls to the Bat Cave.