I saw CATS

Really, there’s not much to say. Other than I brought my AlphaSmart NEO and typed for the entire musical. Here’s are a few snippets of what I wrote during that period of time:

First cat enters the stage, and another and another. Ironically, there are birds chirping. People are doing what I suppose are cat like things are on stage, striking cat like poses.
Oh wait, one looks like Tygra from the Thundercats. This has promise.
No, forget about the promise I talked about just now, this is really awful. Really. Awfu–Oh my hip thrusting.
The reality is starting to actually hit me: I’m watching CATS and there is this oppressive sort of walling in I’m experiencing.

Annnnnnnnd more hip thrusting.I wonder if the other performers hate this guy. He’s a total douchecat.

So without further ado, CATS: the delayed liveblog stream of consciousness rant. It’s long, I’m warning you. For the “Too long; didn’t read” version, I give you this:

There are many reasons why it’s bad, dance numbers are too long, it feels dated, pompous, without substance, there is no story to speak of, and other than the costumes, there’s not much to it. Watch someone singing Memory on youtube and you’re done.

I didn’t like it, but now I feel qualified to use it as a metric when calling a musical, “bad.”

Next up is reading Twilight.

CATS

The word evokes many things. But most of all, it evokes derision ultimately. In order to understand it, in order to get inside the derision, and meld myself with it, I have decided to watch it. Is it merely misunderstood, or is it just people wearing cat costumes and prancing about on stage being generally awful?

Also, it was a free ticket, so there is that.

Dead center orchestra seats. The stage is the junkyard , bits of overlarge appliances, trash and other human detritus are littering the stage.

I admire the spiderwebs underneat the chair in front of me and I wonder, briefly, about my bag under the seat.

The stage looms like a cavernous mouth. It’s the Wolf Trap Theatre, appropriately.
And now an announcement, “Haze, smoke and strobe lights are a part of the performance. Aisles have to be kept clear because they will be used by the actors.”

Annnnd overture!

I’m watching CATS. The reality is starting to sink in now.

Synthesizers, lots of strobing lights so far. Nothing much happening and I feel like the fact that the people in front of me are obstructing my view isn’t a big deal.
The audience still isn’t quiet. Such is the reality of American Theatre.
So much smoke. People are fanning it away from their faces. I feel like it’s an argument against getting orchestra seats.
And I finally recognize some musical phrasing. It certainly took a while.
First cat enters the stage, and another and another. Ironically, there are birds chirping.

People are doing what I suppose are cat like things are on stage, striking cat like poses.
Oh wait, one looks like Tygra from the Thundercats. This has promise.

No, forget about the promise I talked about just now, this is really awful. Really. Awfu–Oh my hip thrusting.

Okay, now the reality is starting to actually hit me: I’m watching CATS and there is this oppressive sort of walling in.

More prancing. and there’s some gymnastics, and it all seems very pompous. And not in a cirque du soleil it’s entertaining and classy way.
Latecomers to the audience now, lots of shifting around. Chorus. Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats. I wonder about the performers, just how silly do they feel in the fur and the tights?
GIANT BOOT!
Nothing against the performers, but this is really pompous. There’s no other adjective, really.
I know this is the first song, bt it really isn’t Weber’s best work.
Okay, Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats. I GET IT already.
This opening number needed some editing entirely overlong.
Oh. 4th wall, very funny, I see what you did there. I feel bad for the person they’re focusing on.
Okay, narrating T.S. Eliot now. And now more birds chirping that are not part of the show. It’s appropriate.  I find that The naming of cats is a complicated long thing that needs editing.
Okay, audience prowling now.
Nope. my mistake. back onstage.
I really wish I were live tweeting this.

A single solitary dancer now, with the musical phrasing I recognize. The smell of citronella fills the air and I remember that I’m at Wolf Trap.

More fabulous jellicle cats.
Cats are now grooming other cats. Sexytimes can’t be far behind.
Cats acting like mice. Okay. A gumby cat. I wonder if the performers get tired of their hands being locked in that paws position.
Now I’m watching Cats wearing garbage bags, holding large silverware, and  tap dancing. I guess this is what I came to see.
Actually, no, it’s cats wearing garbage bags, overlarge Sir Elton John sunglasses and flaunting over sized silverware as tap dancing canes.
Again, I feel like this number is going overlong. Editing, wherefore art thou?
Cats wearing garbage bags: NOW WITH WINGS.
AND PLAYING AIR GUITAR.
OH SHIT, PIMP CAT.
Needs CODPIECE.
More hip thrusting.  without a codpiece it’s fairly obscene, and I guess that’s why  I’m here.
Annnnnnnnd more hip thrusting.I wonder if the other performers hate this guy. He’s a total douchecat.

Okay, audience participation. Lady gets props for dancing with pimp cat.
And now caterwauling.  This is like the third time. It’s two times too often.
Rough looking cat has entered onstage.
Poor Michael Jackson cat everyone seems to shun them. Oh wait, it’s a woman. Grizabella.
I check my watch, it’s beeen 30 minutes. CATS is three hours long.
Oh, it’s the first performance of Memory.
LARGE PAVAROTTI CAT IS LARGE AND HOLDING A COKE SPOON.
The guy in front of me has a shirt with cats on it.
Okay, sirens.

I think the couple seated in front of me are cat lovers. At least, that’s what the cat hair and the cat themed t-shirts seem to indicate.

Oh, Macavity.
Okay, lots of these numbers need editing. They just go on for a touch too long.
Old Deuteronomy and the return of PIMP CAT.
The actress playing the brown persian is really fit.
BIRDS ARE TWEETING.
The return of the synthesizer. with loud crashes.
I’m thinking that this would be way more awesome as Thundercats: The Musical.

Oh for FUCK’S SAKE if I hear the phrase “Jellicle Cats” one more time. . .
I am reallly thinking how 80s this whole thing is, with the crazy hair and the animal prints.
Seriously. I’m going to stab someone, there may or may not be some jellicle stabbing. No promises.
And hip thrusting go.

There is going to be some jelllicle stabbing up in this theater pretty soon.

Of course, I call this pretentious when I’m probably going to be doing something similar with Dance Central and the Kinect.
Brown persian’s the dancer here. it’s clear.

OH MAN, SIMULATED CAT COITUS. HAWT.

Also, not owning a cat, I guess a lot of this interpretive dance is lost on me. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to have meaning, but a lot of it just seems pretentious and again, drawing out dance numbers and sequences that could have been a lot shorter, and easier on the theatregoer. I mean, I’m all for impressive numbers, but they need to be contextualized within the story. There doesn’t seem to be any reason why this prancing is going on about on stage, other than to stroke the ego of Weber, and the choreographer. It’s rather silly, and I’m overall not impressed with it.

Oh hey, rock guitar which should have been prefixed by an Epilepsy warning.

And ultimately, I think this is my main complaint with CATS so far, and it may hold true throughout the show, is that it seems to be an avant garde musical without a compelling story. Lots of interpretive dance, no memorable musical numbers save for the one song, and overall just seems like a big ego boost for Weber.
Brown persian keeps her foot position perfectly.

So. Slow. Not that I need explosions or anything. . . But I might need explosions.

MEMORY! Out of deference to Streisand, I am typing as quietly as I can.

AWKWARD INTERMISSION IS AWKWARD.

What is Old Deuteronomy thinking about right now?
The actor?
Yo, I herd you like smoke.
And cats are back on the stage. People are still  . .  There’s a woman carrying a phone book into the theatre.
Anyway, people are late.
More songs I do not recognize. into Memory reprise or something. Oh, choral version.
Avec synthesizer.
Stage cat song. he’s rather sad with the palsy.
Meta. Stage cat is waxing poetic on modern productions which aren’t as good as when he was on the stage.
Stage cat is sad.
PIRATE CAT Theater within theater. Growltiger and crew. There is a cat with a hook for a paw on the stage.
Piratical Cat with Parrot on shoulder is awesome.
Siamese cats are crazy.
Also, Italian or something. This is somewhat appealing.
Additionally, sadomasochism is awesome.
I’m enjoying this meta theater a lot more than the actual show of cats.
Mock swordplay. Kind of garish. The title of this is “Growltiger’s Last Stand.”

The railway cat, Thimbleshanks. A little better, in terms of a musical number.
Props! THey’ve just made a train! Pretty cool.
CRASH
Sweet, SUPERVILLAIN CAT.
Complete with Henchmen.
MACAVITY.
I have to say this second act is much more engaging than the first.
Go Macavity.
And extra lights have come on stage for macavity.
WEST SIDE STORY CATFIGHT.
MACAVITY SUPLEX TIME!
RAWR! Tom Jones Cat is here.
Streamers! Silver! I’m waiting for flash paper effects.
And Jazz hands, GO.
Lighting probably would have been more impressive at night.
MAGIC SHOW.
Yep. There he is. And there he goes. Mefistoflees CAN HAZ SPINNING.

HOLY SHIT IT’S OLD DEUTERONOMY HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?

MONEY SHOT MEMORY PERFORMANCE.

So long Grizabella.

AND WE’RE OUT.

Play him off, keyboard cat.