Streetalk: Will Cats ever go away?
January 8, 2008 at 4:40 am by Jeff Slate in Streetalk
Tony & Socks: I don’t know. But I’ll tell you about Cats — it’s no Sweeney Todd. You’re never going to see a movie about Cats starring Johnny Depp as a cat. It’s the longest Broadway show in history because nobody knows what’s happening so nobody says it’s bad. That’s the crux of it. I couldn’t understand a word they said. I saw it years ago. I’m not going to see that thing again. I have a cat, but I’ve never liked Cats. It has no plot. Give me West Side Story or Oklahoma! or Sweeney Todd.
Cliff & Pilot: I hope not. So many of us love animals, love music, love dance, and all of these are incorporated into the final product. It’s incredible. We’ve always seen in dogs and cats reflections of ourselves. I’ve seen cats do things incredibly human that freaked me out. And that play vocalizes and visualizes those things. There’s a parallel between animals and humans, and they just nail it. Plus, if you have children, there’s not a better play in the world. And what better place than the Fox.
Cassie & Snapper: All I know, it’s about slinking around in leotards. That doesn’t sound very catlike to me. If it was about cats, it would be a lot of sleeping, eating and getting petted. Most people who like cats like them because they hate people, so who wants to be surrounded by a bunch of people. I would never see Cats because I love cats. I don’t want to demean them by watching humans act like cats. And now I’ll make it a point never to see it just because you’re asking me.
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January 10th, 2008 at 10:36 am
There are time in your life when you are hit with a crushing wave of reality that your decision was a heinous error in judgment. Just like the time I had romantic relations with an incontinent, drunk woman who had just consumed 30 TMI hot wings and two pitchers of Schlitz beer. So too was the time I sat in my seat after paying $10 to experience the musical, “Cats.†Perhaps the original Broadway version has some qualities that may have been lost in the translation as performed by the North Druid Hills mentally retarded and special needs theatrical troupe. As soon as the first key was struck on the piano and the kid with the helmet on bellowed, I knew that had made a serious, seriously poor judgment buying the ticket and seating in the front row for this performance.
Not wanting to make myself into a social pariah by walking out during the show, I sat with deer-caught-in-headlights stare at the howling spectre before me like Alex’s treatment scenes from “A Clockwork Orange.†When the curtain finally closed I cried. I kind of know why, but at the same time I have yet found the words to explain it. It wasn’t because I had just watched what ten halfwits in unitards, fur and makeup could do with a little bit of heavy-handed direction. More so, it was because I ‘had’ to watch ten mentally retarded kids sing and and dance for one hour without the courtesy of an intermission in between.
I do not go to special needs class musicals anymore. I certainly do not want to see ‘Cats’ again. To tell you the truth I do not much care for cats anyway. They are lazy, indignant and use you like an emotional tampon to sate their needs for moist cat food and some kind-nip. Not even ten dolled-up retards could make me appreciate the appeal of felines. Perhaps someday, they will make a musical about tetras or red-cap orandas.