“The kids will love it. For the oldies, maybe a trip down memory lane. It is a period piece, a bit kitsch, peculiar and dated but kinda cute.”
Kate Stratford
3.5 Meows
Venue: Theatre Royal
Sydney
Dates: Until 6th September
Andrew Lloyd Webber’s CATS has been running since 1981. Somewhere in the world it has been revived and re-staged and done, over and over and over, despite its initial premise which deterred investors. Who’s laughing now? It is based on the 1939 poetry collection Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats by T.S.Eliot. The musical tells the story of a tribe of cats called the Jellicles and the night they make the “Jellicle choice” by deciding which cat will ascend to the Heaviside Layer and come back to a new life.
I sort of knew bits of this this before seeing the current iteration now in Sydney; for despite having seen (I kid you not), close to 2,000 shows (in the West End, on Broadway and in Sydney and Melbourne) in my life and the confluence of being a T.S Eliot fan – The Wasteland stabbed me thought the heart when I was young – I have never seen CATS until now. It was a conscious decision. I did not feel it was “me”.
And I still don’t. As a show, there is not much of a dramatic arc or subtext and as a musical it is something of a sad-one-hit-song wonder with some jiggly happy stuff splashed around. It has more in common with ballet, with dance and movement at the core of the story. But it still has immense world-wide popularity and one must honour that. It is certainly employment for a large cast of triple-threats.
It is an odd sort of show – no leads really, but a large chorus taking turns at leading. It is a little sinister at times and a bit trippy with some charm. It is certainly a period piece.
Everything in this production at the Theatre Royal feels as though it is paying homage to the original production, for it feels 80s. There is no sense of modernising for the 21st Century, as though it is such a classic as to require no updating. This decision could be right – revivals are often scuppered by director’s visions over-riding author’s intent. (Although the recent staging of Jesus Christ Superstar was superb and even better than the original).
Back to this CATS. When a show is based so heavily in movement and dance, then the movement and dance needs to be en pointe. Individually, each cat had their “cattiness” down pat. They slinked, luxuriated, stretched and flipped about the stage wondrously in their lycra; often doing most feline things with their bodies. However, the group work was untidy and undisciplined, all at the same time and nothing in unison. In need of a little Bob Fosse precision. More rehearsals in front of the mirrors perhaps? Or fewer choreographers – there was a slew of them listed in the programme and I began to wonder if perhaps there were too many paws in that particular pot.
Thursday night saw the role of Grizabella played at the midnight hour by swing Aimee Jones as Gabriyel Thomas has a chest infection. Jones was terrific in that any possible anxiety was not evident and her diction was impeccable. Lumbered with a song which has become a stand-alone hit, she had to deal with the effect of an audience snapping to attention with the opening bars. Todd McKenny’s experienced understanding of how to ground a show and pull a cast together was evident in both his dual roles of Bustopher Jones and Asparagus. There is always a feeling of being in safe hands (paws?) when McKenney is on stage. Mark Vincent brought soul with his crossover tenor to Old Deuteronomy, although he had to drag around the stage looking more like a yeti. Axel Alvarez gave an exemplary sequined Mr. Mistoffelees reason for being accepted the Royal Ballet School. Des Flanagan’s Rum Tum Tugger was rather sexually aggressive and apparently the paramour of Mr Mistoffelees.
The plus 1 – whose knowledge was marginally more than mine – gave the heads up that it was all set in a junkyard. Which should give ample scope for a set designer to provide opportunities for cats to do what cats do so well. Climb. Drape over awkward looking angles. Appear in inaccessible places. These cats were afforded no such opportunities and remained very grounded. There was a lovely iron bedstead and I kept waiting for it to have a purpose. If we are going to give a nod to 80’s theatre, then a nod to the innovative designs of Peter Brook would not have gone astray. Only once or twice did a cat play with light – lost opportunities there. Another anomaly lay in the cats’ friendliness with the audience. Which is at odds with my experience of cats. They tend to be most disdainful of humans – unless it is just me they ignore. Probably is.
The kids will love it. For the oldies, maybe a trip down memory lane. It is a period piece, a bit kitsch, peculiar and dated but kinda cute.
Photos by Daniel Boud
3.5 meows
Kate Stratford, Theatre Now
