Cats: a furry phantasm that fails to land on its feet.
Written by Megan Chan
(left to right) Laurie Davidson, Francessca Hayward, and Robbie Fairchild in ‘Cats’. (Universal Pictures)
So in the year that introduced to us “live-action Lion King” and CGI Sonic the Hedgehog, ballerinas, actors and pop stars in digitalised fur skinsuits shouldn’t be too big of a logical jump, right?
I’ve never watched many of Tom Hooper’s movies, but I knew about them enough to assume he had prestige and integrity to spare for his other endeavours. Perhaps he does, but I didn’t expect how far he’d try to test this. Granted, the concept of Cats had potential; it has a solid foundation, originating from the Tony-award winning, fourth-longest running musical on both Broadway and West End and written by the legendary Andrew Lloyd Webber. The music and soundtrack are enjoyable and well-written, both in the musical and movie. Had narrative changes been made in the right places, or if they had settled for something less unnerving than CGI fur (why wasn’t this made into an animated film?), then the final results would have been drastically different. But that didn’t happen, and even the dozen celebrity name-drops aren’t able to absolve that fact.
I don’t mind outré and outlandish computer graphics all that much — but fur skinsuits aside (so bad they ended up being a delight), the movie’s visual components do hold some merit. The sets were all grandiose and impressively detailed, camera angles and choreography were both solid, and the colouration of lighting set a distinct palette that managed to produce some intriguing shots. However, the visual choices come across as overkill to compensate for all the other failures.
The CGI cats were exempt from this, of course; they were strange, bizarre, and at times squeamishly uncomfortable to watch, but it was new, different, and laughably awful at the very least. It’s jarring at first, though you do, terrifyingly enough, get somewhat used to it eventually. Yet, these are CGI cats in form-fitting suits that lick their fur and contort into feline poses that are otherwise suggestively… open for humans, and for that, you will never get used to it (once you see humanoid-cats devour dancing cockroaches like there’s no tomorrow, there isn’t any going back).
Cats isn’t a good movie. It isn’t even a so-bad-it’s-good movie. It’s just bad.
Francessca Hayward in ‘Cats’. (Universal Pictures)
The story follows an abandoned white cat by the name of Victoria (Francesca Hayward) as she discovers the world of the “Jellicle” tribe, guided by various characters met along the way; most prominently Mr Mistoffelees (Laurie Davidson), a magician who develops feelings for Victoria; Munkustrapp (Robbie Fairchild), Old Deuteronomy’s second-in-command; Grizabella (Jennifer Hudson), the ostracised and formerly glamorous cat; and McCavity (Idris Elba), the villain who kidnaps all other candidates for a shot to win. Every year, the Jellicles hold the Jellicle Ball, where every Jellicle cat has the opportunity to compete for a new life by displaying their talents and abilities. Every ball is hosted by Old Deuteronomy (Judi Dench), a matriarch within the tribe, who selects the winner based on performances by each contender.
The plot of the movie, or lack thereof, proves to be Cats biggest fault. For a good majority of the film, it is only introductory; nothing happens, but the audience gets to know each character more thoroughly. With about 20 numbers within the 110-minute movie, very few were dedicated to plot development and were instead wasted on spouting facts about irrelevant and bland characters. For one, it was a useless waste of time; character development should have been shown, not told, and in a subtle manner that underlies the main plots. On the other hand, the characters were dull and unexceptional; they each had their traits and characteristics, but very few performances managed to capture any sort of humanity or personality. No one wanted a four-minute song by Shimbleshanks, who hardly appears outside this number, but we got it anyway because the writers were just too generous.
Ian McKellen, considering the material with which he had to work, should be credited for pulling his weight nonetheless, giving a rather impressive performance as Gus the theatre cat. But the rest of the cast were less than stellar, giving unmemorable performances that solidified the cats as charmless, empty husks. This is especially true for the film’s protagonist, Victoria, who feels like the result of an existential crisis in the writer’s room that led to a baffling decision to make Victoria a blank slate. She has no personality, is entirely void of flaws, and hardly does anything. Hayward’s performance has weaknesses, but she’s hardly to blame given what she had. It could have been forgiven if Victoria was meant to be the narrative lens for the audience — which is stupid and could have been done much better otherwise, but is a justification at the very least. Coupled with the fact that Victoria didn’t have any solo singing parts in the original musical and was only the background ‘prima ballerina’ of the Jellicle bunch, there isn’t an excuse for what Cats did with her character. She does serve to slightly change the narrative towards the end, which weakens the argument of being a narrative lens, but she also gets a lot more credit for it, in a narrative sense, than her lack of character deserved.
Jennifer Hudson and Judi Dench in ‘Cats’ (Universal Pictures)
Scenes that did involve plot development were relegated to sparse moments throughout the movie and felt rushed and weak. They were mostly crammed intermittently towards the end, but the plot remained shallow and mostly non-existent. The film’s conclusion was perhaps the most unsatisfactory of all; yes, it was a thrill to see the movie finally end, but it also ended on such an abrupt and vague note that left me thinking, “that’s it?”
A slight disclaimer: I’ve never watched the original musical, nor did my attempts to understand it ever succeed. And for that, maybe my perspective on the film is a little skewed, and my blaming of its missteps being the movie’s own fault is a naive assumption to make. Maybe the musical is just as dull as the movie, or maybe the musical is just bad but gained traction in an Avatar-esque fashion. But I presume that the theatre context does make it more fitting and engaging, and even if Cats the movie isn’t the sole one to blame, it’s still a culprit.
Cats somehow manages to be both ridiculous and boring; no one expected the movie to be great, but you’d think that there would be some saving grace to it. It’s a furry existential crisis that’s confused, as riveting as cardboard, and meant to be pretty, but kind of backrolled and did the opposite. A devolution of film, humankind, and felines alike, though sporadically entertaining, make me regret the two hours I spent sitting in the theatre. “Life was beautiful then, I remember the time I knew what happiness was,” Grizabella sings sorrowfully. So did I, Grizabella. So did I.