“It is tough to pinpoint when the kitschapalooza
called ‘Cats’ reaches its zenith or its nadir, which are one and the same. The
choices are legion: Judi Dench gliding in as Old Deuteronomy, a Yoda-esque
fluff ball with a huge ruff who brings to mind the Cowardly Lion en route to a
drag ball as Queen Elizabeth I; the tap dancing Skimbleshanks (Steven McRae),
dressed, unlike most of the furries — in red pants and suspenders, no less —
leading a Pied Piper parade; or Taylor Swift, as Bombalurina, executing a
joyless burlesque shimmy after descending on the scene astride a crescent moon
that ejaculates iridescent catnip.”— Manohla Dargis, “As the
Fur Flies, Let’s Blame Eliot,” The New
York Times, Dec. 20, 2019
As soon as the studio execs who green-lighted the
deal for the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical got a load of this first paragraph in
Dargis’ review, I don’t think the ad motto “Now and Forever” sprang to their
lips. Maybe it was something more like, “Oh, no—a CATastrophe!”
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