"We liked it a lot. It was better than 'Cats'", theater audiences on a TV comedy sketch show proclaimed in a monotone voice after seeing the latest theatrical spectacular. Certainly, "Cats" has gone onto become one of the most financially successful musicals ever, but does that make it good? According to the billions who have seen it, yes, but to a small majority of those involved in the theater, it is a joke, the type of show one would sneak into like an alcoholic sneaking a drink. The music is mediocre (with the exception of one Broadway standard that everybody has probably heard, even those who hate musical theater), the story non-existent, and the premise manipulative. It's like the movies of today, all style-no substance, and after seeing the TV version and the new Broadway revival, I concur that indeed, this show has given me "Cat Scratch Fever".
T.S. Elliott's book of poems was just that, poetry, and when put into the premise of a big spectacular musical, is a two hour pretentious ball of fur. It's mesmerizing to watch, and I feel for the talented performers who get put into all sorts of twisted positions, much like Julie Taymor did with her dancers in the stage version of "The Lion King". But unlike the king of the jungle, this kitty is about as emotionally involved as commercial cat Morris and cartoon cat Garfield. At least with those two, you could count on the commercial being over in less than a minute (and usually laughed at his cynical commentary) and the comic strip had wry comments on life, pet and human relations and with a 10 second reading, much more to give to the world than this has done in the past 35+ years.
The premise of this show is simple: It's the jellicle ball for jellicle cats, and a song indicating what a jellicle cat is really gives no complete definition. Old Deuteronomy is sort of the great God like old cat who must choose which one of the jellicle cats will go on to start another life, and within the span of two hours, various cats of no varying personalities (with the exception of a few) audition for that honor. Ken Page is one of the great character performers of the theater, and makes a lovable and commanding Deuteronomy. The problem, then, is not in the performances, but within the show itself. Elaine Page repeats her London role as the aging glamour cat Grizabella who sings the poignant anthem "Memory" at the climax of act one, then repeated throughout act two, and she provides the only poignant moment for me that rendered any kind of emotion.
There's a show-stopping John Mills as the "theater cat" who claims to have performed for Queen Victoria, giving one analogist the idea that "Cats" was a metaphor for the relationship between Queen Victoria and Disraeli. Original director Harold Prince summed it up best when he replied to that inquiry, "It's about cats." So even the director knows that it's pointless entertainment, manipulating theater goers for decades and certainly packing in the tourist trade in both London and on Broadway. Of course, everybody who has seen this show or knows about it knows "Memory" and characters like Rum Tum Tugger and Jenny Any-Dots (who would name their cat that?), and after seeing this, I needed a double shot of Rum Tum Tugger.
The staging is impressive, but after a while, the dance numbers do nothing but take away the notion of any plot, and one number in particular reminded me of the 2002 disaster "Dance of the Vampires" where the living dead danced at the vampire ball in front of a mirror, with no reflection. The staging is corny, sometimes tacky, and when I saw this on Broadway, I realized that everybody around me with the exception of me had drunk the "Cats" kool-aide. I was happy to get this off my bucket list, but I certainly will laugh more every time I see a comic jab at this show, like Woody Allen did in "New York Stories" and what Marc Cherry did on the short-lived "The Five Mrs. Buchannans" when Eileen Heckart rushed her daughter-in-law Harriet Harris out of a store, claiming, "I'm not going to be late for Rum Tum Tugger just because of you." Like those two great theatrical ladies who obviously got the joke (Harris's character referred to it as technically amazing but artistically empty), I too am not taken in by over-stuffed smelly costumes and junk yard modern art when there is no point to the show in the first place.
T.S. Elliott's book of poems was just that, poetry, and when put into the premise of a big spectacular musical, is a two hour pretentious ball of fur. It's mesmerizing to watch, and I feel for the talented performers who get put into all sorts of twisted positions, much like Julie Taymor did with her dancers in the stage version of "The Lion King". But unlike the king of the jungle, this kitty is about as emotionally involved as commercial cat Morris and cartoon cat Garfield. At least with those two, you could count on the commercial being over in less than a minute (and usually laughed at his cynical commentary) and the comic strip had wry comments on life, pet and human relations and with a 10 second reading, much more to give to the world than this has done in the past 35+ years.
The premise of this show is simple: It's the jellicle ball for jellicle cats, and a song indicating what a jellicle cat is really gives no complete definition. Old Deuteronomy is sort of the great God like old cat who must choose which one of the jellicle cats will go on to start another life, and within the span of two hours, various cats of no varying personalities (with the exception of a few) audition for that honor. Ken Page is one of the great character performers of the theater, and makes a lovable and commanding Deuteronomy. The problem, then, is not in the performances, but within the show itself. Elaine Page repeats her London role as the aging glamour cat Grizabella who sings the poignant anthem "Memory" at the climax of act one, then repeated throughout act two, and she provides the only poignant moment for me that rendered any kind of emotion.
There's a show-stopping John Mills as the "theater cat" who claims to have performed for Queen Victoria, giving one analogist the idea that "Cats" was a metaphor for the relationship between Queen Victoria and Disraeli. Original director Harold Prince summed it up best when he replied to that inquiry, "It's about cats." So even the director knows that it's pointless entertainment, manipulating theater goers for decades and certainly packing in the tourist trade in both London and on Broadway. Of course, everybody who has seen this show or knows about it knows "Memory" and characters like Rum Tum Tugger and Jenny Any-Dots (who would name their cat that?), and after seeing this, I needed a double shot of Rum Tum Tugger.
The staging is impressive, but after a while, the dance numbers do nothing but take away the notion of any plot, and one number in particular reminded me of the 2002 disaster "Dance of the Vampires" where the living dead danced at the vampire ball in front of a mirror, with no reflection. The staging is corny, sometimes tacky, and when I saw this on Broadway, I realized that everybody around me with the exception of me had drunk the "Cats" kool-aide. I was happy to get this off my bucket list, but I certainly will laugh more every time I see a comic jab at this show, like Woody Allen did in "New York Stories" and what Marc Cherry did on the short-lived "The Five Mrs. Buchannans" when Eileen Heckart rushed her daughter-in-law Harriet Harris out of a store, claiming, "I'm not going to be late for Rum Tum Tugger just because of you." Like those two great theatrical ladies who obviously got the joke (Harris's character referred to it as technically amazing but artistically empty), I too am not taken in by over-stuffed smelly costumes and junk yard modern art when there is no point to the show in the first place.