Cats has had an uphill battle even before its release, as if you've seen that now infamous trailer, you're no doubt aware of the horrid CGI effects the film makes use of, giving them this eerie uncanny valley appearance. However, bad trailers for good films is par for the course in Hollywood, so there was at least some hope that it wasn't the final death knell on this film. Having seen Cats, however, everyone who assumed the film looked awful were right on the money. I cannot stress enough what a catastrophic error of judgment this movie is.
If you can't get over the appearance of the cats themselves, then you're already in for a bad time. The stage musical is very notable for its offbeat character designs, dressing its performers in weird and wild costume and makeup, which certainly has its charms. For this film, however, they've abandoned those practical means in favor of heavy motion-capture. When you think about it, that's not necessarily a bad idea, as that style of performance would be well-suited. The way that Cats implements it, however, is such an eyesore. Everything about the cats just feels so unnatural, from the odd ticks in facial features, the Barbie doll smooth fur textures, and how those designs strive for whimsy, but more often come across as unsettling. You'd assume that feeling would go away as you got used to the film's style, but it continues to hang over the film like a ghost, taking the campiness of the stage show to baffling degrees.
And speaking of fur textures, this movie is absurd in its apparent sexification of the cats. The musical is famous for its sexual undertones, but this adaptation takes that to a whole new degree. Obviously this movie's going to inspire a huge following with cult audiences, specifically those of the "furry" fanbase, but there are so many scenes that pander and cater to that particular subset. It's really uncomfortable the way those scenes play out, even beyond the most obvious culprits like Jason DeRulo's Rum Tum Tugger, showing particularly through the exaggerated feline movements of the cast. Like nuzzling each other to show affection, stretching their legs to mimic real cats, to the hourglass frames accentuating their curves. At one point, there's a scene where they practically get into bondage and choke play. The movie was already bewildering, and then they had to make it that extra bit creepy, which is so awkward when this is marketed as a family film.
BUT... THAT'S NOT ALL! Turns out, the weirdest stuff wasn't even shown off in the trailers. Admittedly, Cats has always been seen as surreal in nature, playing like Alice in Wonderland in a back alley, which is carried over to the film, but between the dodgy effects and "sexying" up the cats, the rest of what happens really beggars belief, even in context. Such as the villain cat MacAvity played by Idris Elba, who is so desperate to be the best of the Jellicles, he Thanos snaps other cats threatening him, leaving grumpy Ray Winstone cat to push them off the plank into the river Thames. Ian McKellen sings a song about his name being Asparagus, the Jellicle cats become an Eyes Wide Shut cult in unified trance, Judi Dench breaks the fourth wall by addressing the audience, and Rebel Wilson's Jennyanydots, because she's so lazy, has handed off chores in her house to also horrifying mo-cap mice, and a brigade of cockroach people. You heard me right, COCKROACH PEOPLE! There's a point where Cats crosses the line from kitschy, and just becomes straight up horrifying. And it's no accident the film is already inspiring a cult fanbase, because even if it clearly isn't the intention, it's when the film leans into how scary it feels that it comes to life. It truly is some of the most baffling creative decisions you could ever expect out of a mainstream release.
And honestly, the filmmakers should be thankful they have notoriety on their side, because if this movie's aesthetic wasn't so incompetent and peculiar, it would simply be dull. As Cats drew heavy inspiration from poetry by T.S. Eliot, the musical is deliberately built without any real story or sense of narrative. The most story you get out of it is who's going to be the Jellicle Choice, and from that point on, the movie is just a series of song sequences. It's all characters standing around, singing songs about themselves and their daily lives, repeating ad nauseum for nearly two hours. Without any real structure or story, if you're going to keep your audiences entertained, you need to fine-tune those numbers to perfection, and the movie doesn't succeed.
Tom Hooper is not a musical director, not in my eyes. Even Les Miserables, a movie that I adore, is not a great film based on the merits of its musical numbers, but by pure virtue of the actors and the drama. That is where Hooper's strengths as a filmmaker lie, because when he has to rely on pure song and dance spectacle, he is miserably out of his element. Rarely do the musical numbers have any vibrancy to them, as he shows a lack of energy in staging them, and presents them in sometimes painfully literal ways. There are exceptions that are genuinely decently staged moments, and not just enjoyable in an ironic way, such as a tap dance sequence following Steven McRae's Skimmelshanks, but seldom does that creativity work its ways into the songs, with even the production design striving for grandiosity, but feeling so small at the same time.
I can't even give the dancing much credit, because despite some extensive and impressive showcases in choreography, it's all marred by the digital and floaty implementation of the cats, which only adds to their unnatural and off-putting designs. And not helping are Webber's songs themselves, which are admittedly catchy and fun little melodies, but are so aggressively repetitive, with some numbers repeating their choruses for minutes at points. Many of them could have been cut in half, and you would lose nothing.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, you have to feel terrible for the actors. On paper, this is an amazing cast, rallying together veteran screen icons and musical royalty for an impressive looking ensemble, and yet many of them contribute some of their most embarrassing work yet. From James Corden and Rebel Wilson competing to outbumble the other, Judi Dench and Ian McKellan struggling to lend the film legitimacy, Jennifer Hudson cry-singing most of her lines, and Idris Elba embarrassing himself as a boring villain. You have to feel sorry for Francesca Hayward in her debut performance as well, essentially serving as the audience surrogate, while the movie gives her *nothing* to do or contribute. It's really saying something when Taylor Swift, by pure virtue of her natural stage charisma and awareness to lean into the film's gonzo nature, is the one performer to come out the other end virtually unscathed.
So that was Cats, one of the craziest, most confounding movies that has been released all year. It's a film built on one baffling decision after another, where at every point and new development, you find yourself wondering "what on earth were they thinking?' This movie is mesmerizing in how insane it is, and at least it has that going for it, because if it were tackled with any competency, there'd be very little left to remember this movie for. Honestly, if Cats were to work as a movie, it would probably be as an animated movie, if not made by Disney, then in that kind of style. On one hand, I do have to admire the confidence in which they approached this movie, but to say that confidence was misplaced is an understatement. Rarely do you see a wide release like this that is so misbegotten from start to finish, and it's one that needs to be seen to be believed.
* / *****
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