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June 6, 2020

Film Review: Cats (2019)

Dear reader--forgive me if I seem out of sorts. My recent bout of madness began when I finished watching Cats. Even though I viewed this on my television set, I can affirm that this is not a film. It can only be described as a thing that should not be.

The tale of Cats is a curious oddity for theater circuits, although it might fare best on the stage where the camp bears charm. On film, we are thrust into a horrifying world where cats and human beings have merged into one--all abominations made possible with the undisciplined science of CGI. To watch the film is to watch a monstrous hoard of cat/human hybrids prancing about a neon-lit reality where the shape and size of things constantly fluxes scene-to-scene. Even the reality within the film breaks as the CGI fails to cover every blemish of the performers and costumes. With terrifying veracity and a daunting runtime, the film whisks its viewers into a damnable hellscape where the hybrids sensually flex and sway their bodies amidst cheese-coated serenades and jazz numbers. It's perhaps at its most terrifying when a decidedly miscast Rebel Wilson enslaves some subraces of rat/child hybrids and cockroach people, and devours some of them with uncaring glee.

Such is the horror that Tom Hooper conjured out of Andrew Lloyd Weber's stageplay (in turn, a whimsical adaptation of TS Elliot's stories). By nature of its origins, Cats is constructed in a formless fashion, amounting to little more than a string of musical setpieces that spotlights specific "Jellicle" cats--the definition of which is left mysterious, but suggests a form of grace and redemption for a few chosen characters. For the film, however, these origins are bastardized into a script, where cinematic conflict and act structure are forced upon this plotless tale. Within this malformed structure, the characters remain one-dimensional specters that prance in and out of each scene with little consequence. Any semblance of romance and adventure is abandoned in favor of contrived structure, and ghastly spectacle and song. I can't deny that the music is fairly catchy--the sheer cathartic power of Jennifer Hudson's solos may be the film's most redeeming feature. I am largely smitten by Francesca Hayward's performance and Taylor Swift's brief appearance (curiously, she had collaborated with Weber on a new song, "Beautiful Ghosts," which Hayward sings quite well in the film's middle, even though it sacrifices pacing to do so). But such music is like a siren's song, luring film-goers into the depths of an empty abyss where the currents of a story are faint and inconsequential. Such is the damnable emptiness that's conjured when filmmakers fail (or don't bother) to comprehend that some elements of a stage musical make for poor cinema, and some elements of cinema make for a poor musical. Alas, the film's attempt to balance both mediums results in an aberration that could have only been summoned from the Necronomicon.

Who knows how much sweat, tears, and money was sacrificed to conjure this reality? Much care was given in elaborate props, sets, costumes, and lighting, but the film remains infamous for its garish, inconsistent (and upon its release, incomplete!) special effects. The cast is noteworthy, but it is perhaps sobering to watch distinguished thespians like Sir Ian McKellen and Dame Judi Dench devote their talents to such bizarre fare (transformed as monstrous cats nonetheless). All the cartoonish gloss and color does little to patch the imperfections, much less the vapid story or the unwise decision to bring this film into being in the first place.

Film and theater lovers take heed--I have ventured through the uncanny valley of madness and witnessed the unfathomable terrors of endlessly wavering tails, twitching ears, and fur-lined faces. In a time ravaged by a global pandemic, domestic rioting, and rampaging murder hornets, I can only conclude that Cats is the harbinger of mankind's doom. Every night, I behold the abyssal night sky and wonder on humanity's significance in a universe where Cats exists. Amidst the endless sea of multiverses, it may all be a literal reality where cat people truly perform ritualistic song to invoke immortality. What are we compared to such Jellicle abominations? I have gazed long into the void in search of an answer. Then, I heard a song whispered out of the darkness:

Meow meow meow meow
Meow meow meow meow
Meow meow meow meow
Meow meow meow meow

3/10

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