Cats, Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre, ★★★★

Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot published in 1939 is a book of quaint and quirky poems, quintessentially English and undeniably feline. The poems humorously capture the English love of their pets in a bygone London of staffed trains, chimneys and gentlemen’s clubs.

When Andrew Lloyd Webber first set these to music in 1981, he was not the first to do so, but the first to produce a straight through musical which enjoyed worldwide success. For many (including me), Cats was one of the first musicals they saw.

The story is a loose tying together of the poems and my adult children who came with me to this Open Air Theatre production could not entirely follow the through thread. It is more a series of songs than a story though this only somewhat reduced their enjoyment. This is because each of Eliot’s cats is a character worth getting to know. From the joyous Skimbleshanks (Matthew Caputo), to the greedy Bustopher Jones (Elliot Broadfoot); from the industrious Jennyanydots (Charlotte Riby) to the stately Gus (Gary Wilmot) each is individual and perfectly observed. You can feel, down the generations, the joy T.S. Eliot’s godchildren must have felt when they saw their own cats represented in rhyme. It is a joy we now get to share in the soaring evening beauty of Regent’s Park.

Drew McOnie has choreographed a fiercely feline but also immensely vigorous ensemble. The Jellicle ball pieces in particular are invigorating in their energy and synchronicity. Jet Yau’s Mr Mistoffelees stood out for jaw-dropping break dance moves, spinning on his head and transitioning between moves in ways it was impossible to fathom. Danny Nattrass and Briana Craig were balletic in their pairing as Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer.

The choreography of Grizabella (Rachael Wooding) and Old Deuteronomy (Melanie La Barrie) felt less successful, with them sometimes not provided with enough movement to bring sense to their scenes. For example, a moment where Grizabella tries and fails to join in a Jellicle ball dance was recognised by me – who knew the story – but not by my family who did not.

By contrast, Wooding’s rendition of Memory left little to criticise with her pathos and pain ringing out into the dark night sky. La Barrie’s relationship with the other cats too had a warm maternal depth.

The set (Sami Fendall) was layered and stark and blended smoothly into the trees surrounding the stage. The levels provided many viewpoints and entrances for the cats, much as domestic cats are seen tumbling and slinking from any unlikely surface. Fendall’s costumes allowed lithe and flexible movement, hinting at each character’s cat identity rather than literally representing it with fur and whiskers.

Above the stage, Jessica Hung Han Yun has placed a striking backlit moon which shines strikingly over the stage and greatly adds to the sense of being at a nocturnal gathering.

The twelve-strong band, complete with three keyboards, produces an exhilarating sound that despite the outside nature of this theatre is well-balanced with the cast’s voices.

Cats will never be a work of profound philosophical depth. But as a piece of whimsical, light-hearted fun, this is delightful.

Images: Mark Senior

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