“Cats”: The Jellicle Ball is near Purrfect

Alright, I’ll level with you. Maligned as it is (and oh is it ever) Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1982 musical Cats is what first made me fall in love with theater. When I was five, I went to a production at Maine’s Merrill Auditorium and from the moment I saw those vaguely creepy spandex clad humanoid felines slink to the stage, I was hooked. Granted, I was five, so take from that what you will about the cognition needed to appreciate a bunch of uncanny kitties prancing about in a death wish competition set to a score of absolute bangers meets 1930’s poetry, but I digress. All this is to say, when I heard this most popularly unpopular of shows was getting a revamp in the form of a queer ballroom scene drag makeover, I was deeply excited. 

And I was not alone! There’s been a palpable excitement around Perelman Performing Arts Cente’s Cats: The Jellicle Ball ever since the concept of setting the show in a Harlem Ballroom style runway competition was first announced. The run was extended to July 28th before performances even began! I’m hardly the first to let the cat out of the bag and say that the excitement was well warranted. Who knew the one time longest running Broadway show (18 years at the Winter Garden Theater) was secretly a queer masterpiece just waiting to come out!? (pun intended). 

Credit: Matthew Murphy

What directors Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch (who also serves as PAC NY’s artistic director) have done to transform the original text is both truly brilliant and shockingly little. Not to discount the work and care that has clearly gone into this production, but by simply changing the characters from literally cats to members of a queer subculture (a culture created by and for people of color), the raw material itself seems ready-made to become, if not a queer parable (the show remains largely plotless), certainly a queer party. T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, from which the text of the show is taken, already contains within it themes of the power of naming oneself, the joy of a secret, vibrant chosen family, the ways identity can shift into performance and back again, and the mysterious pleasure of playing at the intersection of fantasy and realness. Whether these poems were intentionally queer coded or not one can only speculate but they certainly feel ready to meet this moment when queer and trans rights are once again under attack, a moment when standing up to assert oneself with defiant joy can be a powerful act of resistance. 

And more than story, that declaration of identity has always been what Cats is about. Perhaps that’s why it resonated with me so much as a five year old in the early stages of developing a sense of self. For Halloween that year I donned all black with homemade felt ears, covered in glitter. “What a cute little kitty!” people cooed. But I was not just any cat, I was THE Magical Mr. Mistofelees, and demanded to be known as such! So too (to much greater success than me at five) The Jellicle Ball is brimming with specificity and individual charm. The cast includes stars of both ballroom and musical theater scenes and truly everyone had a standout moment. Just a few that will stick with me are Nora Schell giving body as Bustopher Jones (admittedly usually a skip song for me turned ever so sexy),  Baby whipping her gorgeous blonde hair as Victoria, Sydney James Harcourt crooning Rum Tum Tugger’s song with ineffable swag, the hilarious antics of Jonathan Burke as Mungojerri and Dava Huesca as Rumpleteaser, and of course my childhood favorite, Robert “Silk” Mason covered in sparkles as Mistoffelees. The rest of the cast included Antwayn Hopper, Dudney Joseph Jr., Capital Kaos, Shereen Pimentel, Primo, Xavier Reyes, Bebe Nicole Simpson, Emma Sofia, Garnet Williams, Teddy Wilson, Jr., Tara lashan Clinkscales, Phumzile Sojola, Kendall Grayson Stroud, and Frank Viveros, with understudies Shelby Griswold and Dominique Lee rounding out the company.

If there’s a hiccup in consistency (not that the show exactly demands or inspires consistency) it might be in the treatment of the oft shunned Grizabella the Glamour cat. One of The Jellicle Ball’s takeaway messages is to honor and uplift queer elders. The hallways to the theater are decorated with pictures and information on queer leaders, Act Two opens with a slideshow of the legendary mothers of the ball scene, the stately Junior LaBeija (who also plays Gus) gives the pre show speech imploring the audience to google him before they turn off their cellphones, and Andre DeShields’ entrance as Old Deuteronomy, the esteemed judge of the Jellicle Ball, is greeted with a (well deserved) standing ovation, fan claps and, at my performance, audience members literally bowing down. (DeShields will go on to preside over the proceedings, commanding a room with just a flick of the wrist). 

Credit: Matthew Murphy

Why then is Grizebela so easily discarded? After all, she’s even included in the post intermission slideshow as the legendary mother of the House of Glamour. There are many possible interpretations that are sadly still realistic, even in what I like to think of as the utopia of queer community. Could it be femmephobia? Maybe ableism (she seems to walk with a limp)? Misogynoir? Nothing is particularly investigated, but I’ll be honest, by the time “Tempress” Chasity Moore was triumphantly belting out Memory, I really didn’t mind. 

The show does have that sort of deliriously hypnotizing effect. The dancing is transcendent, co-choreographed by Legendary season two winner Arturo Lyons and vogue dancer Omari Wiles (That it is both co-choreographed and co-directed perhaps adds to the feeling that this very much is a show made in and about community). Qween Jean’s costumes (best summed up as fur and sparkles) and Nikiya Mathis’s wigs and hair are dazzling. Even Rachel Hauck’s more minimalist set provides the perfect backdrop to highlight the queer power of transformation. The creative team also included Josephine Kearns as dramaturg and gender consultant and Company member Capital Kaos as ballroom consultant. Perhaps it was their inclusion that made the show’s delightfully campy heights still feel grounded in something genuine (at least to this erstwhile drag performer and ballroom outsider). Filling out the creative team is lighting designer Adam Honoré, sound designer Kai Harada, projection designer Brittany Bland, beats arranger Trevor Holder, with William Waldrop serving as music supervisor and music director and David Lai as music coordinator.