"Cats: the Jellicle Ball" is a Walk Down Memory Lane (for the First Time)
- Michael Stevens
- Jun 4
- 3 min read
Updated: Jun 5
Andrew Lloyd Webber spinning in the DJ booth in the street outside the Broadhurst (May 31, 2026) My hubby with Sydney James Harcourt at stage door (May 31, 2026)
Cats: the Jellicle Ball at the Broadhurst Theater proves that cats might really have nine lives.
Of course, there is the book of poetry—Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats— by T.S. Eliott published in 1939. Even then it must have been considered "charming" but perhaps was also considered to be a tad glib or slight when compared to his and other more adult or serious compositions. Even in those simpler times, it was never a profound work.
The musical Cats by Andrew Lloyd Webber was based on the book of poems and mounted
in 1981. Having already been recognized for his tendency to create music around some pretty unusual subject matter (Jesus and Evita Peron), Lloyd Webber must have been specifically looking for obscure subject matter, and a slight volume of children's poems about various cat "personalities" made the cut.
By all measures, the musical was a smash and perhaps even considered avant garde in its day. Minimal story tied together with an "immersive" set, abstract cat costumes, exuberant choreo and addictive melodies, it ran for ages.
I saw the original show in June 1983 at the Wintergarden theatre with my gay bestie Stuart and know that we loved it obsessively. But I must have seen it half a dozen times since then (including the movie version and the CD live capture) and I gotta say that I never wanted to sit through it again. It simply did not age well. What seemed like high "concept" art became trite and boring.
The Jellicle Ball changes all that and joins Cynthia Enviro's gender swapped Jesus Christ Superstar, the immersive Phantom show, Masquerade, and the Jamie Lloyd's high gloss Evita arriving on Bway next spring in Lloyd Webber's reinvention tour.
While the music is mostly loyal and unchanged (minus a few less of the more forgettable tunes and a few updated injections for tonal consistency), the concept is anything but unchanged. Gone is the wrap around junkyard and the furry leotards. Instead, it's like TV's Pose or RuPaul had a baby with Bob Fosse, and the Jellicle Ball is the glorious result.
These cats are metaphorically "cats" (like in the jazz sense of the world) and are a bevy of sexy and gender fluid voguers across the ethnic rainbow competing in a dance off rather than a ride on a tire to "heaven." The Rum Tug Tugger is no longer an Elvis wanna be but is a Grindr hot boi. Grizabella is still a faded beauty but a more poignant one that has lost her youth and glamour in a milieu that values that above all. Old Deuteronomy is a James Baldwin meets Dame Edna grand dame drag mother.
The show has added depth by giving a context to the songs and characters. How in the world can frolicking cats in a junkyard who are hoping to cash in one of their nine lives hope to compete with a competition in which total a bevy of eccentric orphans manifest costume, dance, and attitude into a fight for their existence and as proof of their own self-acceptance?
The shock for me was that I instantly delighted in the familiar refrains of "Jellicles can and Jellicles do" and slapped and popped my fan like a mad man until it was as lose and overworked as a bowl of Jellicle Jello on a subway car.
An additional joy for us was that Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber was the guest "DJ" for the evening so we got some a little celebrity brush up with him and cat hottie Sydney James Harcourt (Rum Tug Tugger, himself) at the stage door.
My suggestion: get yourself off to the Jellicle Ball and relive the real or imagined glory of Cats for the first time. This overt celebration of the LGBTQ+ Black and Latino Vogue-a-teria world is refreshing in an age of presidential and Republican persecution of those communities and is joyous, inclusive, and wise. And refreshing. Now, and maybe truly forever after all.
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