Let's be honest, darlings. We all knew going in that a cinematic adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Cats" was treading on dangerous territory. A stage production known for its bizarre costumes, interpretive dance, and, well, cats singing about being cats, it's not exactly Shakespeare. But with a cast boasting names like Judi Dench, Ian McKellen, and our very own pop princess, Taylor Swift, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the cinematic event of the holiday season.
Reader, it was not.
From the opening scene, where a bewildered-looking newcomer is unceremoniously dumped into an alley filled with…things…it was clear we were in for a ride. And what a ride it was. A CGI-fueled fever dream of fur, whiskers, and eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. Remember that unsettling feeling you got watching Tom Hanks interact with animated toys in "Toy Story"? Multiply that by a thousand, add some awkward feline choreography, and you're in the ballpark.
Now, let's talk about the fashion, because, honestly, what else is there to talk about? I've seen more convincing cat costumes at a Halloween party thrown together with scraps from Michael's. The "digital fur technology," as it was so generously described, looked less like fur and more like someone had haphazardly glued cotton balls onto the actors. And the less said about the uncanny valley of their faces, the better.
Taylor, bless her heart, tried. Her turn as Bombalurina, the glamorous seductress of the group, was…something. She slinked, she purred, she even writhed around in a giant, shimmering catnip dispenser. But even her megawatt star power couldn't salvage the disaster that was her costume. A mishmash of leopard print and what appeared to be Christmas tinsel, it was less "seductive feline" and more "rejected mascot for a discount cat food brand."
The whole thing felt rushed, unfinished, like a first draft that accidentally got sent to the printers. The plot, what little there was of it, felt disjointed and confusing. The songs, once iconic, were lost in a sea of autotune and overproduction. And the dancing? Well, let's just say that even the most talented dancers in the world would struggle to make "cat-like movements" look anything other than ridiculous.
I remember attending a particularly disastrous runway show in Milan a few years back. The designer, a darling of the industry, had clearly lost his mind. The clothes were unwearable, the models looked miserable, and the whole thing reeked of desperation. "Cats," I'm afraid, evoked that same feeling of bewildered disappointment. A swing and a miss of epic proportions.
And yet, amidst the wreckage, there was a strange sort of fascination. A "can't look away from a car crash" kind of energy. Perhaps it was the sheer audacity of it all. Or maybe it was the morbid curiosity of seeing just how bad it could get. Whatever the reason, "Cats" became an unexpected cultural phenomenon, albeit not in the way the filmmakers had hoped.
In the end, "Cats" serves as a cautionary tale. A reminder that not every beloved property should be resurrected for the big screen. Some things are best left in the past, or, in this case, on the stage. And if you're going to attempt to create a realistic CGI cat, for the love of all that is holy, please, hire a good fur technician.
Shop the must-have Taylor Swift outfits- https://www.cusuti.com/category/taylor-swift
Comments