Cats at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre: Skilfully mounted but deeply, deeply silly

A Feline Revival Takes Flight at Regent’s Park

Traveloasisspot.com – Andrew Lloyd Webber’s beloved theatrical phenomenon has found new life beneath the London sky, where the boundary between indoor performance and outdoor spectacle dissolves into something rather magical. The legendary anthropomorphic musical, which first captivated audiences in 1981, now graces the open-air venue with a production that balances skillful mounting with unabashed whimsy. What began as T.S. Eliot’s comic verses written for his godchildren has evolved into a sprawling song cycle, loosely tethered by themes of resurrection and redemption.

What makes this particular staging so compelling is how it embraces its own inherent silliness while delivering genuine theatrical craft. The enormous ensemble, all pretending to be felines, moves through stalking, preening, and high-stepping gestures that seem to communicate on a deeply primal level. Even those who might initially find the concept somewhat infantile cannot help but be drawn into the spectacle. Watching the sleek revival under the direction and choreography of Drew McOnie, one cannot help but notice how the feline mannerisms occasionally evoke unexpected comparisons—perhaps even to television personalities caught in similarly animalistic moments.

The Stage Becomes a Living Canvas

The production opens with fitting symbolism on a circular stage, where a massive oxidized letter ‘C’ cradles an illuminated full moon. This visual motif immediately establishes the world of the Jellicle Ball, that annual gathering of superior cats. As descending and ascending musical scales embed themselves into the consciousness of the audience, performers in leotards with prosthetic ears and tails glide down the aisles, regarding spectators with an air of disdainful curiosity.

At the heart of this gathering sits Old Deuteronomy, portrayed by Melanie La Barrie, a hieratic elder who must select one feline to ascend to the Heaviside Layer. From there, the chosen candidate will be reborn on Earth with a completely new identity—or at least, that is the general understanding of the mythology. This framework serves as a useful vessel for presenting character sketches of animals who range from haughty to sybaritic to positively vicious.

Songs That Stick and Characters That Charm

Grizabella, the former glamour cat, haunts the pack with unspoken shame while delivering the show’s anthemic centerpiece, Memory. She shares the stage with the enigmatic Mr. Mistoffelees, the roguish Rum Tum Tugger, and the delightfully named Jennayanydots. The musical landscape extends beyond pop-rock conventions, incorporating light jazz and nursery-rhyme novelty, with even a whisper of reggae in Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats—a piece that stresses different syllables in different lines in a manner that proves both irksome and ear-wormy.

Eliot’s verses transport audiences to an era when theatres and steam trains maintained their own pet mousers, and when forgotten establishments in Tottenham Court Road and St James’s held a certain romantic appeal. The mischievous Kensington residents Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer could plausibly speak like Ealing comedy cockneys, bridging the gap between literary verse and theatrical performance.

Choreography and Performance Shine

Originally helmed by Trevor Nunn with choreography by Gillian Lynne, Cats enjoyed an extraordinary 21-year run at the New London Theatre, which was subsequently renamed in honor of Lynne. This third West End revival inevitably lives or dies by how McOnie marshals his twenty-plus troupe. Eliot’s Practical Cats prove acrobatic and balletical, winding around each other in displays of PG flirtation or threat. The action flows with sinewy grace, punctuated by a surprise interlude of dynamic breakdancing from Mistoffelees, played by Jet Yau.

Taziva-Faye Katsande deserves particular kudos for stepping into the role of Grizabella on opening night, appearing blissfully undaunted by the monolithic status of the character. Gary Wilmott, as the piratical Growltiger, delivers his business with characteristic cleanliness and efficiency. The arch double-act of Katie Dunsden’s Bombalurina and Millie O’Connell’s Demeter provides additional entertainment value.

Without elaborate sets beyond the Big ‘C’, atmosphere emerges through smoke, lighting, and the ensemble’s bodies combining into a rippling spine. When the elusive criminal Macavity makes his exit, he ignites a ring of fire—a moment that, somewhat unpleasantly, recalls the so-called “butthole cut” from Tom Hooper’s 2019 film adaptation, where all the felines sported CGI anuses.

Lloyd Webber deserves admiration for his dedication to reworking his past hits, particularly following that scarring cinematic disaster. McOnie’s version may be more pedestrian and safe than the drag and ballroom adaptation that recently captivated New York audiences, but it succeeds in bringing this feline world to life with warmth and theatrical conviction.