An Impassioned Defense of Cats: The Musical

After decades of being (rightfully) embroiled in controversy, why would I ever give Cats another try?

Cats, a musical adaptation and retelling of Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, is a musical without a story. It’s not even worth pretending that there is a story, because frankly, there isn’t one. It’s a series of vignettes that show snippets of a life and a world that is never fully explained; I’ve heard arguments that this is both a wonder (in that it lets you draw your own conclusions about some of the cats and their origin stories) and a curse (in that no, you never will get an official explanation of why Grisabella is the shunned cat).

I’d like to suggest that there is another answer entirely: one that does not involve the story (or lack thereof) at all. I propose that Cats is a celebration of theatre.

Of all the shows that have graced the stage over hundreds of years, the vast majority of them actually attempt to have some kind of meaning. (We’re leaving off-broadway art house out of this, don’t @ me.) Cats does not even attempt to provide a coherent story, instead simply putting a series of vaguely-related poems from a children’s book to music and song. Frankly, we’re lucky they even rhyme.

However, if you take the time to watch any stage performance of Cats, if you look past the songs, what you get is a single performance that is a celebration of the people who worked on it. The costumes are intricate, ranging from skin-tight spandex to wafting fur, and the role of the costumer is to make that incredibly odd combination work without feeling too out of place.

The dance numbers are confusing and nonsensical, but the way they are structured brings classical ballet, hip-hop, tap, breakdancing, modern, and more styles into one production and one show. It’s an opportunity for a multi-talented actor or dancer to really show the world what they’re capable of.

The music has swinging highs and deep lows, with several songs having surprising complexity in jumping notes that are quite difficult for the human voice to accomplish. While it’s not Sweeney Todd, it’s still impressive (and noticeable) when pulled off well.

The makeup is sublime. Each Cat has recognizable and extremely complex heavy makeup that they still have to emote through, and not only must this makeup be something they can act through, it still has to be heavy enough to give them the vibe of another type of creature entirely. (In fact, John Napier, the original costume designer, won a Drama Desk Award, a Dora, and a Tony for Best Costume Design.)¹

The set design and lighting are impeccable. It’s a relatively simple set in most productions, but each piece has meaning, the lighting is fabulous, and the choreography uses it so well that it feels so much larger than it is. (Perfect lighting really helps too.)

I argue that the point of Cats is not the story. It’s to see the incredible work of the folks in front of and behind the curtain that so rarely gets literal center stage. To revel in the work of those who so rarely get to really go to extremes and show the world what they’re capable of.

Is it a weird show? Yes.

Does it make sense? No.

Do I love it, even though maybe I shouldn’t like it as much as I do….?

Definitely.