Starring: Keri René Fuller, McGee Maddox, PJ DiGaetano
Director: Trevor Nunn
Music: Andrew Lloyd Webber
Lyrics: T.S. Eliot, with additional lyrics by Trevor Nunn and Richard Stilgoe
Book: Based on “Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats” by T.S. Eliot
Venue: Princess of Wales Theatre
Run Information: Cats is currently running through January 5, 2020.
Rating: ★★★
Andrew Lloyd Webber’s campy songs and theatrical excess help patch up a paper thin book.
Whether you like it or not, the cats are back. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s gang of feline furballs have set up their home for the winter at the Princess of Wales Theatre and promise to conjure nostalgic memories from the ‘80s.
Cats, of course, is based on T.S. Eliot’s “Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats,” a collection of poems detailing the lives of so called Jellicle Cats. Lloyd Weber sets these poems to music and uses them to wring out a skimpy plot to keep the proceedings chugging along. At the top of the show, the cats gather in a junkyard for their Jellicle Ball, where Old Deuteronomy (Brandon Michael Nase) will select one cat who will ascend to the Heaviside Layer and will be reborn to a new Jellicle life.
There is Rum Tum Tugger, a flashy rockstar cat, played by the energetic McGee Maddox. There’s also Jennyanydots (Emily Jeanne Phillips), an old gumbie cats who enjoys ordering around mice and cockroaches. PJ DiGaetano’s Mistoffelees, the “original conjuring cat”, delivers some wonderful stage magic and Giovanni DiGabriele’s Skimbleshanks, the railway cat, is adorable as he prances around the station.
There are other characters that get their time in the spotlight, some more memorable than others, but the highlight of the show is definitely Keri René Fuller’s Grizabella, a once glamorous cat who left the group and is now seeking acceptance upon her return. As she trudges onto the stage, with her shoulders caved in, the other cats shun her and scuttle away. Fuller’s rendition of Memory, one of only two songs not using Eliot’s poetry, is roof-raising and filled with pathos. Perhaps this is the only moment in the show when Cats really scratches beneath the surface to reveal the purpose of this avant garde hodge-podge of songs: cats aren’t very different from humans in that everyone wants to feel acceptance. It takes nearly two hours for this to become clear.
Nonetheless, if you are not racking your brain around why anyone would want to write a musical abouts cats — why there is not a musical about dogs is beyond me — you will certainly marvel at the spectacle of this production. Trevor Nunn, the director of both this revival and the original production, has retained most of the theatrical excess from the version that debuted in 1981, an era in musical theatre history defined by falling chandeliers and flying helicopters.
The 26 member ensemble inhabit John Napier’s junkyard set, filled with scaled up cars, ovens, and pyrotechnics galore, from smoke machines to flying tires — yes, you read correctly. Nunn makes charming use of items that can be found in a real junkyard to stage his scenes; an umbrella, a steel rod, and a few pieces of fabric are used to make a steam locomotive.
At its core, Cats is a dance musical and on that front it doesn’t disappoint. Gillian Lynne’s original choreography, with new additions by Andy Blankenbuehler, is vivacious, containing acrobatics, ballet, and even an energetic tap dancing sequence led by Jennyanydots at the top of the show. The staging often overflows from the stage into the aisles of theatre, with the cast breaking the fourth wall and interacting with the audience.
This youthful ensemble, most of whom come from a dance background, execute the choreography with flair. Particularly entertaining is the cartwheel-filled pas de deux between Mungojerrie (Justin W. Geiss) and Rumpelteazer (Rose Iannaccone), a pair of stealthy cat-burglars.
But what these cast members have in dance talent, they lack in singing abilities. Following the dance routines, they seem incapable of executing Lloyd Webber’s songs. This is especially apparent in the large ensemble pieces, which are noticeably out of tune and without the athletic power of the dance numbers. Serviceable, at best.
And by no means are Lloyd Webber’s songs considered technically challenging. His synthesizer-heavy songs all contain a simplistic melody, almost as basic as the songs you would learn at camp. Yet they are effective earworms and pop up in your head long after the lyrics have faded away.
Which brings us to the flaw of this musical. Eliot’s words make excellent children’s poetry, but work terribly as lyrics. While there are fun word plays peppered throughout, such as whimsical alliterations and rhymes, the lyrics break the fundamental rule of theatre: show, don’t tell. Eliot’s text was originally written for readers and needed to be filled with descriptors describing what each cat looked like. But for a stage show, most of this text becomes pointless thanks to Napier’s costumes, made up of ‘80s spandexs and fur headdresses. Why does it need to be emphasized that Butopher Jones (Timothy Gulan) is “incredibly fat” and has a “coat of fastidious black” when that can already be seen from his first entrance?
Cats is a fun night out at the theatre thanks to over the top production values and wonderful dance numbers. Yet why this musical has become such a cultural hit will continue to confound me.
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