Why I Fear Cats the Movie

I am going to state a very unpopular Broadway opinion.

I didn't like Cats. 

There. I said it.

And as much as I really didn't enjoy it, The Husband absolutely HATED it. He was thoroughly bored. When it finally premiered here in Toronto thirty-five years ago, he was stuck in a slightly obstructed seat that caused him to miss the entirety of stage left. I don't think a better seat would have mattered, though. The abstract concept of bringing T.S. Eliot's marginal Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats to life in an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical was just a bit beyond his still developing twenty-something musical theatre mind. The poetry was ridiculous enough (and it is ridiculous. Everybody who thinks that they like this show should read it.) but putting it to music with ballet? Well, that was sufficient for him to declare, and still maintain, that it was one of his worst evenings ever in a theatre.

I didn't hate it. It really only has one great song and I was wholly impressed by it from a technical standpoint. The make-up, the sets, the movement, and oh that choreography. It was, and still remains, a musical that is fully dependent on an illusion created in a theatre. The distance the audience has from the performers allows for the makeup, costumes, and movement to do their work of conveying an assemblage of cats jumping and leaping all over the stage. When I saw the live television version that was recorded from London in the late eighties, I was disappointed at being able to see the brushstrokes on the performers' faces, the tails held on by chicken wire, and the cheesy looking catsuits. The illusion was lost.

There is a reason that it has taken almost forty years to make a film version of Cats. Cats is basically an abstract dance piece. The cats onstage are not meant to be taken literally. It is a collection of short stories about the names and personalities of a group of felines. There isn't really a storyline that ties them all together. The cats themselves are the story. The idea that a filmmaker could come up with a lucid concept to somehow recreate the magic of the stage on film has always seemed to be illusory. It reminds me of when War Horse was filmed. The amazing puppetry of the horse onstage was lost to the reality of an actual equine. The film was lacking the emotional heft of the stage play that was brought on by the illusion, tricks of the eye, and movement of the "horse" on stage.

And that brings me to the trailer of the upcoming movie version of Cats that was released yesterday. It is available for your viewing pleasure (?) at the bottom of this post. It is disturbing at best and horrific at worst. The felines look like bad Halloween costumes and the CGI of the sets is simply awful. The casting is truly suspect with Jason Derulo the only likely dancer in the group. I mean, c'mon. Taylor Swift mocks her dancing abilities in her own songs. Putting her into a choreographic masterpiece like Cats is like putting me in a swim race against Michael Phelps.

Hollywood has had a terrible time of it lately in adapting Broadway and that is a shame. Hairspray, Mamma Mia, and Les Miz have all suffered from overproduction and bad casting choices. I confess that I hold out very little hope for Cats but the crazy thing is, that I am such an addict of musicals that I will probably shell out the cash for a ticket. That doesn't mean that I should nor should they. Here's hoping they don't mess up In the Heights.

Watch and decide for yourself.

A Happy Place Shared

Where is your happy place?

I have lately come to the conclusion that not only do we all need a happy place these days but that having such a space where one can escape the traumas and miseries of day to day life is a moral imperative. 

For some, it is the kitchen. My mom tends to retreat to baking and cooking when she is stressed. For others, it is the banality of television. Others find solace in books or in the warmth of a silly romantic comedy. Last night, most in Toronto dove deeply into our communal love of sports and our time-honoured tradition of consoling our losing selves in order to escape the horrors of this past week.

Me?

While I love all of those stated above, my true happy place is in the audience of a darkened theatre witnessing the magic of the musical. I can't always adequately express how a Broadway musical, even a mediocre one, makes me feel. There is a synergy that develops between me and the performers on that stage. I live and die by every motion of the choreography. I visibly tense in my seat as they hit the highest of notes, praying right along with them, that tonight won't be the night the voice might crack. I sweat right along with them as I marvel at the creative genius that brought 1940s Paris or 1980s London or 1770s New York into my 21st-century Canadian psyche. This is me in a musical theatre and to his credit, The Husband has not only indulged this very expensive passion, he has accompanied me to every single performance and has become an aficionado as well. So, when I suggested last minute tickets to see the soon to be leaving An American in Paris now playing here in Toronto, he was an enthusiastic yes. (I do adore this man!)

We invited Twin Son and His Better Half to join us for the evening. It was a celebration for him and we wanted to do something special to mark the occasion of his entering into a new decade. Because of the lateness in purchasing the tickets, we had to separate into different sections of the theatre. The Husband and I were in the centre orchestra and our friends further back. We got to our seats quite close to the curtain call and as a result, I really didn't have time to peruse my program, as is my usual custom. There was also a lot of buzz in the theatre about game scores and the like that further distracted me from noticing my surroundings. 

The first act of the show was breathtaking. For anybody familiar with the movie, there are subtle changes to both the song list and the structure of the story that translates beautifully to the stage. The sets and lighting are a visual masterpiece and the choreography would make Gene Kelly plotz. I was so entranced that I forgot about the playoff games happening in another world. As we rose in our seats at intermission to go meet our friends, I excused myself to the woman sitting beside me and happened to notice that she was alone at the theatre. She was absorbed in reading her program so I didn't engage with her other than to ask her pardon so that we might pass.

We returned to our seats for the second act in time to hear the Entr'acte. My seat companion was still reading and didn't pay much attention to us at all. The curtain rose and the players on stage were already into their dialogue when the lady beside me suddenly leaned over, tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "That's my son."

Stunned, I asked her which young man on stage was hers. 

She replied with tears of pride filling her eyes, "The one playing Adam, the piano player."

I was dumbfounded. "He's amazing", I whispered back. "You should be very proud." (He really was amazing. This wasn't just polite chitchat. I take my musical theatre very seriously and I am an extremely tough, some would say difficult, audience.)

She just smiled with a radiance that only a parent can understand and then she totally blew me away when she pointed again and said with equal pride and joy, "And that's my daughter-in-law." Her daughter-in-law was at that moment dancing and singing up a storm in the role of Milo, the Nina Foch role in the movie.

I quickly turned to my program to discover that Adam and Milo are indeed spouses off-stage. How could I have missed that? Damn you, Maple Leafs! The entire viewing of this show suddenly took on a different lens. I wasn't just watching a magnificent performance onstage, I was seeing it through the eyes of a thrilled parent who had obviously been through so much with her children. I saw her gasp with delight, applaud wildly after their solos, shed more than a few tears, and was the first person to leap to her feet when they came out for their bows. I have been in the audience as my kids performed in amateur productions and know very well the knots of anxiety and the intense emotions. This woman must have had that experience tenfold.

As the lights in the theatre came up, I asked her if this was her first time seeing the show. She laughed and said no, of course not. She saw them several times on Broadway (I can't even imagine!!) and has since followed the travelling company to several cities. She told me that her son is the youngest of four boys and that they lost his father when he was just thirteen. She made him a promise then that if he ever made it as an actor, she would be in the centre of the theatre for all of his shows. She said that it is the greatest joy in her life to travel from city to city and watch him and his wife perform. I asked her if she would please tell them that her seatmates absolutely loved the show and that we were entranced by their performances. She just smiled, shook my hand, thanked me, and headed off to meet her children.

We here in Toronto have had a difficult week. There has been more than a few tears shed in light of the tragedy that befell the city this week. There isn't a person here who doesn't require some measure of healing. I knew that going to the theatre would be a salve on my battered soul. That's what happy places are supposed to do. Having this special seatmate share it with me, well...it just elevated it to another level. 

Yes...there is still joy in this place.

Shabbat Music Break

Our final Shabbat Music Break Broadway Style recognizes one of my favourite theatre going experiences of the last two years. My infatuation with Idina Menzel is well-documented, but seeing her in this incredible production was stupefyingly mind-blowing. If/Then tells the story of Elizabeth, a 40-something who has moved back to New York following the breakup of her marriage. Her life is mapped out for her depending on the choices she makes and the people she meets. The play is a bit like the movie Sliding Doors starring Gwyneth Paltrow, in that it follows the same character on two distinct life paths that are dependent on the options presented. Ms Menzel is always a revelation, and the music has been perfectly tailored to her immense vocal talents. I tend to weep every single time I see her live. It's kind of a thing between her and me. If/Then has begun a national tour and will hit Toronto in the spring, and while Ms Menzel will not be in the cast, it is still an incredible theatre experience. It is not a show for the lazy theatre goer and it is not a show for those expecting big, brassy production numbers. It requires attention, thought, and perspective. It is very adult and very brilliant.

Here is the "11:00" number. I convulsed with tears.

If/Then (2014)
Music: Tom Kitt
Lyrics: Brian Yorkey
Book: Brian Yorkey

Song: Always Starting Over

Shabbat Music Break

Today I offer another in my series of Shabbat Music Breaks Broadway with the incredibly clever and hysterically funny new musical Something Rotten. Set in South London in the late 1590s, Something Rotten follows the story of the struggling Bottom brothers as they attempt to make it in a theatrical world dominated by their arch nemesis William Shakespeare. Opening on Broadway in March 2015, it was nominated for a myriad of theatre awards including 10 Tonys, (winning but 1) including Best Musical. This show is just a rip-roaring great time at the theatre.

Something Rotten (2015)

Music by: Wayne Kirkpatrick and Karey Kirkpatrick

Lyrics by: Wayne Kirkpatrick and Karey Kirkpatrick

Book by: Karey Kirkpatrick and John O'Farrell

Song: A Musical

Shabbat Music Break

In order to have a bit of a respite on Shabbat, I will continue my tradition of Shabbat Music Breaks. This year, I have decided to introduce you to some of my favourite Broadway musical performances of the past several years. (I plan on writing much more about Broadway throughout this month of blogging hell. Stay tuned.) Today's instalment comes from the 2014 Tony Award winner for Best Musical, A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder.  A wonderful and clever farce in the tradition of Oscar Wilde, Gentleman's Guide follows the antics of our hero Monty Navarro and his interactions with the upperclass D'Ysquith family. We recently had the opportunity to catch the show, but it is unfortunately closing in New York in January. A tour has already been announced and it will be making its way to Toronto in the spring. Run, don't walk to see it. Shabbat Shalom.

A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder

Music by: Steven Lutvak

Lyrics by: Robert L. Freedman & Steven Lutvak

Book by: Robert L. Freedman

Song: I've Decided to Marry You

My Greatest Fear

Fear of flying?

You have aviophobia.

Fear of spiders?

Arachnophobia.

Are you ailurophobic? Then you have a fear of cats. (Can't say that I blame you for that one. Strange and diffident creatures, perpetually going through life with their middle fingers in the air.)

How about emetophobia? It is a fear of vomiting. Personally, I gave up that particular one a long time ago. When you have puked in front of as many strangers as I have, you tend to just go with the flow.

While I can't honestly say that I would actively court encounters with any of the above, none of them constitute my greatest fear. I'm not even certain that there is a name for that which causes some of my greatest angst.

The thing that I fear most, that thing that sends me into night terrors, that which truly gives me the heebie-jeebies, is the realization that Hollywood is about to transform one of my all-time favourite books or plays into a film. Oh the humanity!!

It is often difficult for me to explain to people the emotions that develop when I am truly moved by great art. When a phenomenal piece is presented to me, either on stage or on the page, I feel as though a part of my soul has been altered. The author or performers have managed to reach deep down into the depths of my being and stir something that has lay dormant for far too long. Those exquisite bits of beauty gifted to me as an audience member are precious, and I become extraordinarily protective of them. And while I appreciate re-interpretation and reimagining of classic creations, I only ask that they be done with dignity, taste, and an understanding of the artist's original intent. Can anybody honestly say that any of those qualities are on regular display in Hollywood adaptations? And so....I worry.

This December's polar vortex of such fretful re-vampings has me quaking in my Uggs. It all begins next Thursday with the live television event showing of Peter Pan, starring that ubiquitous name from musical theatre....Allison Williams.

Who?

Yes, I have watched Girls and yes, I know who she is. I do so want her to smash the role and I hope that she does. I desperately want this type of television programming to be a success. Bringing live musical theatre to millions of people at a time can only increase its waning profile and hopefully its appreciation. But at what cost? The live production of The Sound of Music last year proved fairly conclusively that a pretty voice and a big name does not an actress make. My biggest fear with Ms. Williams is not necessarily in her acting chops, but rather does she have the musical theatre background, that is the voice and choreography skills, to carry it off? Has NBC learned its production lessons from last year's sometimes nightmarish and awkward performance, and can a play that features kids, a dog, and flying through the rafters....all happening in real time on live TV.....overcome those obstacles? I do so want to be pleasantly surprised but....

Next on my December viewing worry list is Lifetime's two day "event" airing of Anita Diamant's brilliant novel/midrash The Red Tent. I read this magnificent book in a single afternoon. I simply could not put it down, and years later it still evokes a myriad of emotion. (One of my biggest regrets in life was forgetting to bring my worn copy of the book to the URJ Biennial in Washington where Ms. Diamant was a keynote speaker. I would have hunted her down for an autograph.) Handing this magnificent bit of feminist Jewish writing over to the hacks at Lifetime is akin to allowing Mickey Ds to cater a White House state dinner. I am honestly getting the dry heaves imagining the strong and virtuous women of Diamant's opus being depicted as Dance Moms or Real Prison Wives. And though it would be easy to suggest that I don't watch the miniseries, I almost feel that it is my obligation to be there to protect the vision; to remind people who don't know better that there is brilliance there. Oh God...please let it be good.

Finally...there is the Christmas Day release of Stephen Sondheim's Into The Woods, one of my all-time favourite stage musicals. Sondheim's plays have been notoriously difficult to put on film. Just check out the movie versions of Sweeney Todd or the vintage A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. His music is extremely challenging for the average musical movie goer's ear, and even more challenging for the average movie actor or actress to pull off and sing well. It's why the best performers of Sondheim's work are not household names to most. They exist almost exclusively within that wonderful bubble of live theatre and are rarely cast in big budget Hollywood extravaganzas. Hello Bernadette Peters. I do admit to seeing some light in the casting tunnel for this movie, however. There are some real voices there amongst the younger set, and anything that has Meryl Streep hamming it up as the Witch can't be all bad, but still there are the nagging worries. I have already been forewarned about changes to the story and song list that include doing away with the character of The Mysterious Man and the elimination of the wonderful song he sings with The Baker, No More. I realize that most people won't care one whit about any of this minutia , but these are the same people that seem to be okay with Cameron Diaz playing Miss Hannigan in the latest iteration of Annie. All I'm saying is that it matters to me.

My new daughter-in-law tells me that I should learn to just enjoy what is presented to me and not analyze everything so much. She is correct, of course. I would probably live longer if I could simply go with the flow about these really trivial matters and just be a regular audience member. But the problem is that I do feel as though greatness is being tampered with. It is a bit like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa or having the cast of the Simpsons sing Carmen. In my mind, it destroys the artists' visions of what they saw and how they originally presented it to their audiences. I am fiercely protective of those images and emotions.

I can only hope that my worst fears aren't realized.