New in New York
I rarely, if ever, begin a column with an exhortation to those who are in NYC or will be there before September 8, but here goes:
Run, scamper or do whatever it takes to get a ticket to CATS: The Jellicle Ball, the most brilliant, exciting, magical “new” show in New York! It will take you to the Heaviside layer of musical theater!!
Okay, a little background.
I first saw Cats in London about eight months after it opened. It was the hottest ticket in town. I went to a ticket brokerage agency every day hoping for a return until I finally got one for New Year’s Eve (I was there with college friends during the holiday break; unlike me, they were not musical theater afficionados). The seat was the very last one in the front row of the balcony/mezzanine; the theater was semi-circular so I was able to see a little behind the “junk pile” as the actors prepared to make their entrances. The atmosphere in the theater was electric; nothing like this had ever been seen before. I heard later that some of the young performers would occasionally lose their, um, kitty food backstage due to the sheer excitement and nervous energy of it all.
Flash forward a year and I went to see Cats on Broadway with my family shortly after it opened. Still highly enjoyable but, by then, its reputation had preceded it and audiences were expecting a grand time.
Over the next few years, I saw it again, for an article I did about one of the actors in the show, and would occasionally “second-act” it (back when you could still get away with that sort of thing) as a friend was the manager of another cast member. I also listened to the original cast album many, many times and could easily purr along with every song.
Flash forward a few more years to the early 1990s and by then Cats had become a cliche, mocked mercilessly in such shows as Forbidden Broadway and, especially, Six Degrees of Separation.
Interestingly, as time went by, this once Broadway behemoth, was embraced by summer theater camp programs, and we got most admirable productions of Cats here in 2006 from the Jefferson Performing Arts Society’s Summer Youth Music Theatre, which won Ambie Awards for Blake Coheley’s choreography and Brady McKellar’s Hair/Make-Up Design, and in 2011 from the Anthony Bean Community Theater which, in addition to a large cast of kids, featured Charmaine Neville as Grizabella.
So when I heard that A.L. Webber/T. Nunn/T.S. Eliot’s wondrous exploration of mankind (and catkind) would be revived at PAC NYC inspired by the queer Ballroom culture that began in 1980s Harlem and became better known after the documentary Paris Is Burning came out, as well as Madonna’s Vogue video, I thought “What a great idea!” (I only found out later about the naysayers who scoffed at this reconception of the Tony-winning musical; to their credit, they admitted they were wrong after the production opened to acclaim.)
To be sure, part of my confidence that the new Cats would be a success was that Bill Rauch would be co-directing it.
Rauch, the Artistic Director of PAC NYC, and I went to college together; we were both involved in theater on campus, tho never worked together. I still vividly recall his magnificent production of The Seagull in which the audience sat onstage while the cast (which included Nina Bernstein, Leonard’s daughter, as Nina) performed in the orchestra seats of a 1904 structure, roaming thru the chairs and entering from the back of the auditorium which allowed for a brief view of the outdoors beyond.
Rauch would go on to be one of the founders of Cornerstone Theater Company which specializes in community-based, contemporary adaptations of classics. For example, they did Noel Coward’s Hay Fever in Marfa, Texas, and reset it there with an ensemble of canasta-playing women. I had hoped they might come to New Orleans, but the closest they got was Port Gibson, Mississippi, where they did a mixed-race production of Romeo and Juliet.
So if anyone was to revise and bring a new perspective to Cats, Bill Rauch was the perfect man for the job. When the rapturous reviews came out, I was hardly surprised.
I thus approached this Jellicle Ball with high expectations, knowing that all too often that that kind of anticipation leads, unfortunately, to disappointment. So, were my expectations met?
I am happy to report that they were met…and exceeded, beyond my wildest dreams. For Rauch and Co-Director Zhailon Levingston have taken a great musical which had become a cliche and, by thoroughly re-imagining it, have made it great again.
They have done this by recasting Cats as a competition between the “House of Dots” and the “House of Macavity”. Members of each house strut down the runway of Rachel Hauck’s set and are scored by guest judges (Alexis Gaultier LaBeija and Tanisha Scott at the performance I saw). I’m not sure it really matters who wins because (a) they’re all fabulous and (b) we know that Grizabella will eventually, well, no spoilers…yet.
Along with Levingston and Rauch’s direction, Arturo Lyons and Omari Wiles’ choreography, brilliantly melds the over-the-topness, related but slightly different in tone, of Ballroom culture and Broadway musicals to revivifying effect. And though this quartet of creators deliver much razzmatazz to the PAC NYC stage, moments of silence are often as thrilling as anything else.
While changing only the teensy-weensiest of the original script, this Cats triumphs as not only a celebration of queer culture, but of the diverse community that makes it up. Qween Jean’s astoundingly imaginative costumes, the artistry of Nikiya Mathis’ hair and wig designs, and Rania Zohny’s alternately bold and subtle make-up combine to create characters that are so detailed and unique that we come to identify with and appreciate each one even in this plotless, concept-driven show.
The cast of CATS: The Jellicle Ball (photo by Matthew Murphy & Evan Zimmerman)
For example, we first see Nora Schell as a somewhat drab bartender, cleaning up a countertop. She later returns, in kinda male drag, as a stunning Bustopher Jones, hair fastidiously slicked down, her full figure filling out a dapper outfit. As the number, which had never been one of my favorites, continues, Schell struts around owning the stage, radiating the joy that this transformation allows her. When, at the end, she tears open her coat to reveal a dazzling bustier, Schell has created an effervescent persona that we follow till the final curtain.
At the risk of calling him a cat burglar, André De Shields virtually steals the show as Old Deuteronomy who, here, is seemingly the leader of all the Houses. De Shields makes one of the grandest entrances I’ve ever seen “doing” very little to the greatest of effects. His gravitas, along with a magnificent wig, adds depth and brings nobility to an already gloriously multidimensional production.
The luxury casting of Junior LaBeija as Gus the “theatre cat” connects this Cats to the origins of Ballroom culture as he has been part of that scene for 50+ years and was the M.C. for Paris Is Burning. Just as important, however, is Shereen Pimentel as Jellylorum, Gus’s granddaughter, who, with her classically trained voice, elevates “Gus, The Theatre Cat” from a musical comedy number to a gorgeous art song.
And then there’s the Grizabella of “Tempress” Chasity Moore. Moore, a transwoman, slinks around the stage as per tradition, but here she’s a former Ballroom champ, pathetically clutching her trophy of long ago which now means so very little. With a stirring voice that easily matches such earlier Grizabellas as Elaine Paige and Betty Buckley, when Moore launched into a “Memory” filled with pathos but not a whisker of sentimentality, I got a lump in my throat that continued as she–spoiler alert–ascended to the Heaviside Layer.
That was actually not the first lump in my throat. That had come earlier when the weight and importance of this production hit me. For it is not only a heartfelt tribute to marginalized portions of the queer community, but, perhaps even more importantly, a pinnacle of theater magic and imagination. For Levingston/Rauch & Co.’s achievement demonstrates at the highest level what all theater artists should do regularly, i.e., take classics, broadly speaking, and reinvent them with boundless liberty, utmost care, and detailed insight so that they may speak to new generations of theatergoers.
For example, here Skimbleshanks the “railway cat”, portrayed with just the right mixture of jauntiness and officiousness by Emma Sofia, becomes an NYC MTA officer with long, luxurious leopardskin inspired hair. Why hadn’t anyone thought of that before?!
Munkustrap, possibly the least well-defined personality of all the felines, becomes our Master of Ceremonies in a commanding performance by Dudney Joseph Jr., guiding the audience through the competition and revving up its participants.
I could quibble that fab as Lyons & Wiles’ choreography is, by its nature, the vocabulary of voguing is somewhat limited (I’m no expert but a little googling kinda confirms this) with everybody waiting for “suicide” dips. Thus, I especially liked, okay, loved, when a pair danced down the runway in competition such as Mungojerrie (Jonathan Burke) & Rumpleteazer (Tara Lashan Clinkscales) versus Victoria (Baby) & Tumblebrutus (Bryce Farris) for, in these instances, a certain sculptural, even Balanchinian quality emerged from the movements which mesmerized as body parts did seemingly impossible things.
Of course, when the Magical Mister Mistoffelees of tall and lean Robert “Silk” Mason capped an already extraordinary number by pushing himself down the runway backwards with legs at an 180 degree angle and torso upright, that was a singularly spectacular sight I shall not soon forget.
I should note that at the performance I attended five understudies went on, including Clinkscales and Farris; I had no idea that this was the case until after the performance when I finally got the appropriate insert because, clearly, this Cats has an amazingly deep benchful of talent.
Primo, who normally plays Tumblebrutus, made for a truly fabulous Macavity, with tremendous stage presence and oodles of charisma. And I didn’t realize that Shelby Griswold, who covers two roles went on, superbly, as BOTH of them, Demeter and Electra, switching back & forth with utter ease. Silly me, I just kept thinking “Gee, those two performers look kinda alike.”
About the only Cat that didn’t quite make the grade was the Rum Tum Tugger of Sydney James Harcourt. Modeled on Mick Jagger, the RTT should ooze bright light charm and have a powerful singing voice (as Sir Mick, at 81, still has); Harcourt wasn’t bad but he failed to measure up on both counts. I was actually surprised when I read his bio to find that he has extensive theater credits, both musicals and Shakespeare, and has done substantial film & TV work. That said, when a kwik strip left him clad in just a jockstrap revealing an awesomely chiseled body, all was forgiven.
Should you think I’m being overzealous about CATS: The Jellicle Ball, here’s an excerpt from a Facebook post that a friend of mine who lives in Boston wrote a week or so ago–
I went down to NYC to see Cats: The Jellicle Ball and it’s the most joy I’ve seen on stage in years. The theater positively vibrated with the power of queer people performing their authentic identities. That’s due to the genius of the directors, who included innumerable moments of silent beauty that certainly aren’t written into the piece, along with the flabbergasting choreography and non-stop delightful costumes. The cast is jaw-dropping. It’s the opposite of escapist entertainment; The Jellicle Ball connects us to life and to our own day.
This is one of those times when no amount for a ticket is too much since, with no Broadway transfer yet announced, it may be the last chance you’ll have to see this unique, unforgettable production. You won’t want it to end. In fact, you’ll probably want to buy another ticket as you exit.
[More info at https://pacnyc.org/whats-on/cats-the-jellicle-ball/#event-booking]
