Feline Fantasy

FOR SIX NIGHTS A WEEK until May 5, hundreds of curious Bostonians will be lured from the familiarity of Tremont St. into the Shubert Theater Once inside, they will find themselves in the midst of an exceptionally designed illusion, a feline fantasy where a superior society of cats flourishes unbeknownst to the men who cater to them. While the illusion sometimes sags under the excessive weight of extravagant special effects, the fairy tale remains resiliently intact, and the satisfied audience returns to reality only after a delightfully entertaining tour of the magical, mystical, mythical world of Cats.

The stage is set for fantasy--literally. It is transformed into a larger-than-life garbage dump, full of oversized bicycle wheels and car tires, discarded beer bottles and cereal boxes. All of it spills over the proscenium and into the loge boxes; lights strung across the theater also contribute to the colorful chaos.

Where the scenic design leaves off, the custumary takes over. With furry pelts of calico and feline eyes of green, the cast members pounce from the stage into the audience, pawing and purring into surprised faces. Moving together as in an acrobatic ballet, gliding, jumping, and somersaulting, the actors truly resemble the animals they pretend (or maybe, aspire) to be. With the actors slinking on stage, the lights flashing and stroking, the carefully sculptured trash set, eerily bathed in an artificial moonlight glow, the illusion is complete. Only then are we ready to enter the world of the Jellicle Cats.

From the opening song detailing the variety of felines, "...Cynical cats, rabbinical cats, metaphorical cats, allegorical cats, sadistical cats, physical cats...," we are quickly told that there is much more to cats than what humans normally know. We believe, for at least the two-and-a-half-hour show, that these felines inhabit their own special society, and that they, not we, are the true masters. It is a poetic world of elegance and energy, but also a world fragile and vulnerable to men and their loud dangerous machines.

The anthropomorphic animals give us a brief glimpse of their hitherto secret lives, revealing their sorrows and triumphs, fears and celebrations; all of this is brought together in a well-choreographed flurry of dance and music, with all the lyrics being taken from, or suggested by, the original published and unpublished works of T.S. Eliot '11.

Creating such a consummate and pure fantasy is a difficult task, and sometimes the flaws threaten the illusion. The second act doesn't reach the same energy of the first for 40 minutes. During that section, the pacing slows and the score, often a little repetitive, becomes boring. The production tries to cover up the weaknesses with elaborate set changes and highly imaginative props. But while they pull out all the stops, we can't help but think that the effects are just too much. As the colored lights flash and wink in bright display, the scene comes to resemble a glitzy junk yard Christmas. At the play's climactic moment, when a glittering floating cloud carries an aging cat away into the sky to be reborn, the illusion erodes into little more than J. Alfred Prufrock meets Star Wars.

Yet despite these failings, the overall energy, creativity, and sheer entertainment makes Cats a bravura production well worth seeing. From the hauntingly beautiful melody of "Memory" to the energetic "Mr. Mistoffelees" to the final song, a glorifying paean to felines Cats is a celebration of cats--and maybe after all it isn't purely fantasy. Look at Tabby the next time he basks on the sunlit windowsill, unbothered by the mundane humanity around him, lost in a secret world of his own, end you may begin to have second thoughts.

Perhaps cats are finally getting the recognition they deserve, and Cats is their tribute, a triumphant rendering of fantasy into fantastic entertainment, and maybe elucidation. Given the attention that the show has received, it would be easy to overanticipate and find Cats disappointing. But don't go expecting anything more than an evening of imagination and fun, and you will be rewarded with nothing less. This is entertainment at its best, and not even ailurophobes--that's cat haters--should miss it.