CATS
CATS At the Teatro to watch a show about Cats. Cats are everywhere, fur naturalistic, fantastic make-up, the performers stayed in role the whole time. They were cats, inquisitive, sensual and alluring without meaning to. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats is built on T. S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, a collection of poems that already resist conventional narrative. Webber doesn’t “adapt” them into a linear story—he creates a ritual. What you’re watching is less a plot-driven musical and more a ceremonial gathering: the Jellicle Ball. Once a year, the Jellicle cats assemble to present themselves—body, memory, instinct, desire—so that one may be chosen to ascend to the Heaviside Layer and be reborn. That’s it. No villain, no quest, no romance arc. The drama is existential. And that’s where cats become not just a choice, but the only possible choice. Why cats? Why not people? Cats exist in a perfect symbolic middle-ground: They live with humans but ar...