I tried to hate-watch the ‘Cats’ movie but ...
My job description has included the words “theater critic” since 2008, but I have never seen “Cats.”
How is this possible? Well, I love musicals, but I definitely don’t love all musicals. I am, in a word, a snob. I hate cheese, and “Cats” is a flavor of cheese you can smell an ocean away.
But you can’t fight fate forever, and now the time has come for me to face Andrew Lloyd Webber’s cutesiest concept musical, or at least the big-screen adaptation starring — just to take my expectations down a notch — Taylor Swift, who has co-written a new song,
“Beautiful Ghosts.”
And so, at the risk of offending musical-theater buffs everywhere, it is with great regret and trepidation that I
deliver my professional verdict:
I didn’t hate it.
I mean, I expected to. I tried to. From the first garish notes of ’80s synth, I was retraumatized with all the other relentlessly catchy Lloyd Webber melodies that have barged into my brain over the years. A true master of pastiche, the composer of “Jesus Christ Superstar,” “Evita” and “The Phantom of the Opera” hasn’t had an original musical idea in his life, but he sure knows how to write an ear worm.
For the first few numbers — as we are introduced to the various members of the Jellicle tribe including “The Rum Tum Tugger” and “Grizabella: The Glamour Cat” — I was distracted by thoughts such as, “Would T.S. Eliot have been horrified by this?” And the (very loose) story was as cheesy as expected: As the Jellicles gather to see which of them will be chosen by Old Deuteronomy (Judi Dench) to ascend to the “Heaviside Layer,” the evil Macavity (Idris Elba) schemes to kneecap the competition.
What I didn’t expect, though, was just how weird “Cats” is. It’s surreal, hallucinatory, and mostly in a good way, I finally decided. Despite the backlash over director Tom Hooper’s use of “digital fur” when the trailer came out, the CGI-enhanced costumes work pretty well, and there’s a real “Alice in Wonderland” feel to the oversize sets (from fancy Victorian sitting rooms to the trash-filled alley).
Also, I could be wrong, but I think I know what it looks like when an actor is flat-out having fun. And it’s infectious to watch, especially when they are familiar, even beloved faces. Since I had done zero research before the screening, I was surprised and delighted to see Sir Ian McKellen chewing scenery as Gus the Theater Cat and James Corden in an even-fatter suit stuffing CGI shrimp into his maw as Bustopher Jones.
Jennifer Hudson sings the heck out of “Memory” (twice, course), and she, like Dench and McKellen, brings tremendous gravitas to their characters’ ridiculous circumstances. But the standout performance for me is Rebel Wilson’s far less dignified turn as fat and sassy Jennyanydots.
And if you love cats, the kind with actual fur, which I do do do, then you’re sure to get a kick out of little moments like one actor stretching out to rub a jowl against a wooden beam while sauntering by.
So yeah, I guess I was charmed in spite of myself. I’m reminded of a quote from Alexander Pope I had to memorize as a kid, which gave me fair warning about the likes of Andrew Lloyd Webber and “Cats”:
“Vice is a monster of so frightful mien / as to be hated needs but to be seen; / Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, / We first endure, then pity, then embrace.”
Did I tear up a little? Maybe.
Do I ever need to see “Cats” again? Nah, I’m good.