Musings & Reviews

Throughout my time as an avid theatergoer, some of my absolute favorite productions of musicals have been those that take the original source material and radically reinvent it. These shows barely change the original text, but instead through direction, performance, and design they breathe a new life into the material in unexpected ways. Diane Paulus turning Pippin into a stunning circus act. Michael Arden’s work with Deaf West to bring the texture and dynamics of those who are hard of hearing to Spring Awakening. Daniel Fish’s bold and brilliant production of Oklahoma! that removed the artifice and genial trappings and stripped the material down to the dark heart of America that was always there in the text. These three in particular come to mind as a testament of what can be done when brilliant artists have a singular vision and are given the ability to bring that vision to the stage.

Enter Cats: The Jellice Ball. I was originally supposed to see this production at PAC in 2024 but I was unfortunately under the weather that day. I didn’t think too much of it as to be honest I have never been a particularly big fan of Cats. I first saw the show in the early 90s as a child and frankly the Cats terrified me. The set was dark and imposing, some of the music has a creepy edge, and in particular the fact that the cats prowled the theater and the aisles got a real rise out of me. I had nightmares for months. When I got older and I watched the 1998 proshot of the Broadway production I was no longer scared, but I was admittedly confused. There is no denying the impact of Cats’ score. Sir Andrew Lloyd Weber is remarkable at writing theatrical earworms, songs with melodies that simply won’t leave your brain for weeks at a time. Who doesn’t know the tune to Memory? Who hasn’t had Mr. Mistoffelees stuck in their head at one time or another? And yes, the show has always been an excellent showcase for dance. But I never found it engaging as a whole. The concept and book (almost exclusively taken from the poetry of T.S Eliot) barely tell a coherent story. A group of cats sing and dance with one of them being selected to go to heaven? Okay. Weird. Where are the characters? The emotions? The dramatic beats? I don’t get the appeal. The 2016 revival had a hugely talented cast but I was left with the same pervasive feeling. What the fuck am I watching?

What directors Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch have done with Cats in The Jellice Ball is nothing short of a miracle. These brilliant artists had a vision to take the source material and apply it to the world of Ballroom. Originally an underground culture founded by and featuring Black and Latino LGBTQ folks, Ball culture is a beautiful celebration of radical queer joy. If you are unfamiliar with Ball culture, I highly recommend the masterful 1990 documentary Paris is Burning, which has direct ties to this production. We’ve seen Ball culture reflected in a lot of modern pop culture, from RuPaul’s Drag Race to Pose to its impact on artists such as Beyonce and Madonna (who took voguing, originally from Ballroom, into the zeitgeist.) And let’s not ignore the impact Ball culture has had on our modern lexicon.

On its face this may seem like a strange marriage of approach and material. Certainly some older, stodgy folks lacking in imagination have suggested as such. But let’s actually think about. Ball culture features the performers dressing in various themed outfits and showing their dance talents to win trophies. When you stop and think for even a brief second, the correlation to the “plot” of Cats is beyond clear. It is a marriage made in heaven, but it required true visionaries to make it happen.

This vision is now being carried out 8 times a week at the Broadhurst Theater in New York City and I am not engaging in hyperbole when I say that I think this is one of the very best things I have ever seen on a Broadway stage. And if you know me, you know that I have seen a ton of shows in my life. From the second the overture of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s score begins, performed live by an incredible 18 piece Orchestra, you are lifted away to another plane of existence. The love, joy, and magic on display is indelible. But as I’ve made it quite clear, this is not your grandfather’s Cats. Yes, they’re singing the same songs (with some added beats at time) and the plot, as it is, unfolds in very much the same way. But as the opening number is performed, as we begin to see the costumes, the look of the performers, the choreography, small changes in the use of language, it is very clear that we are dealing with something else here. This is a giant, open-hearted love letter to Ball culture AND to Cats.

The choreography by Omari Wiles and Arturo Lyons is spectacular, taking major influence from Ballroom with lots of other styles blended in seamlessly. And my God does the cast dance their asses off. The costumes by Qween Jean are, quite simply, masterful. There are myriad amazing styles on display, the textures and designs and fits so gorgeous and exciting that they deserve their own coffee table book and every award imaginable. Every element of the production works in perfect harmony to create this singular experience. The set design and staging turn the Broadhurst into a Ball club, an immersive experience with seating on the stage and actors prowling and performing in every nook and cranny of the theater.

The cast. THIS CAST! Every single performer in this company is giving the performance of a lifetime. Each actor has crafted a unique, dynamic character, imbuing it with their own particular vocal and physical skills. Their work both individually and as an ensemble is truly symbiotic, and that is a magical thing. In past productions of Cats I have had a difficult time keeping track of who is who and what exactly is going on. That is simply not the case here. I’m sure it helps that they aren’t actually dressed as Cats this time around, but it also feels like everyone in the cast was given the opportunity to bring their own individual voice to their roles. I could say something legitimately great about every single person in this cast, but perhaps that is better saved for another time.

For the first time (for me, at least) Cats makes sense. This reinvention, combined with all of the technical and craft elements and the performances, have brought an emotional texture and understanding to these characters that I never saw in the material before. I cried with Grizabella. I cheered with Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. I sat with rapt attention as Gus the Theater Cat shared his tale. I was incredibly, ahem, excited by Rum Tug Tugger. I lost my goddamn mind with Skimbleshanks. For me these are now the definitive interpretations of these characters. They feel true to what they were always supposed to be, in such a fresh, fun, smart way.

Let’s talk about queerness. This show is queer as fuck. Ballroom is and has always been a queer enterprise and that is on extraordinary display in this production. At a time when the rights of Trans people are being threatened, when conversion therapy is once again rearing its ugly head, when the social politics in this country are as dire as I can remember in my lifetime, this show stands proudly and radically as a joyous expression of queer identity and queer joy. The cast is made up of so many beautiful representations of all sorts of people, men and women and Trans and nonbinary folks. People of difference races and body shapes and sizes. People from the whole spectrum of sexual orientation. The euphoria I feel because of this is overwhelming. You can and will feel seen and accepted by this show, no matter who you are. If you open up your heart and your mind, The Jellice Ball will hold you up and say that “I see you and I accept you.”

The atmosphere each night in the Broadhurst can only be described as a party. The audience fully buys in to the concept of the show, becoming a part of the experience. Fans clacking, cheering and catcalling, applause and dancing. It isn’t a distraction, it is a feature. I’ve been fortunate enough to see this 4 times already (like I said, guys, I really, really fucking love it) and I haven’t dropped ass or had as amazing of a time at something in as long as I can remember.

Cats: The Jellice Ball is the pinnacle of what musical theater revivals can be. It’s the pinnacle of what live theater can be. It respects the source material while giving it gorgeous, bold, brilliant new life. It is a celebration, a moment, a gift. It is lightning in a bottle, and I cannot wait to see it again and again. I’ll see you at the Ball.