The weekend before Christmas provided an opportunity to
catch up with my sorely neglected cinema. First priorities: Dark Waters and
Cats.
Spoiler level for Dark Waters will be mild, nothing you
wouldn't know from the trailers or the news. I don't think there are proper
spoilers for a film like Cats--it's not exactly rife with plot twists--but I'm
going to talk about it in excruciating detail. If you really don't want to know
anything before you see it, or if you really don't want to read 1500 words on
one of the year's worst movies, please proceed accordingly.
First on my weekend docket: Dark Waters, a
based-on-actual-events tale of the attorney who took on chemical giant DuPont
over poisoned water in Parkersburg, West Virginia.
Dark Waters is a compelling story told in pedestrian
fashion, a disappointment considering the names involved. It's weirdly edited
in places, with some shots lingering overlong while others cut off so abruptly
it seems like somebody forgot to come back and finish it. The movie wears its
agenda on its sleeve, with broadly-drawn good guys and bad guys, chugging along
at a deliberate pace that makes it seem longer than it is. Some good tension
builds towards the end, as the case comes to a head, but it's pretty late in
the game. The big-name cast includes Mark Ruffalo in a fine but unremarkable
turn as Robert Bilott, David to DuPont's Goliath. Anne Hathaway and Tim Robbins
are up and down as Bilott's wife and boss/mentor, respectively. Bill Pullman
turns in the only performance I really enjoyed, and his screen time is, sadly,
rather limited. West Virginia doesn't necessarily get the worst cinematic
treatment it's ever had, though certainly Dark Waters doesn't have an
opportunity to show our state at its best, even if it effectively portrays the
resilience of our people. (Some would say "bull-headedness," but
we'll stick with "resilience" here.) Dark Waters is a movie worth seeing,
but maybe more worth seeing on Netflix or as a rental, rather than with the
full cinema pricetag.
Dark Waters runs 126 minutes and is rated PG13 for
"thematic content, some disturbing images, and strong language."
Dark Waters is a serviceable telling of a great story, one
that's all the sadder as West Virginia continues to sell itself to the highest
bidder with little regard for its own well-being.
Of a possible nine Weasleys,
Dark Waters gets seven.
Next up: the big-screen adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber's
much loved musical, Cats. Buckle up, kids. We're gonna TALK about this one.
On the night of the Jellicle Ball, the Jellicle Leader
chooses one Jellicle cat to elevate to a new Jellicle life.
Think that synopsis makes no sense? You aren't alone. Many
would say (and have said) Cats makes no sense, there's no story. The plot is a
thin one, more a series of vignettes, with each cat making his or her case to
win the Jellicle Leader's favor.
Now, the disclaimer: I love Cats. It's one of my top three
musicals of all time, and my favorite Andrew Lloyd Webber property. When I see
the current national tour of Cats in February, it will mark my 30th visit to
the junkyard. Certainly some productions are better than others (the 1993
national tour that featured now-Tony-winning choreographer Christopher Gattelli
as Mr. Mistoffelees and Mad Men's Bryan Batt as Munkustrap is a favorite), but
I've yet to crawl away disappointed...until this movie. Herein we shall discuss
where the film goes wrong, and those few things it actually gets right.
We'll start with some of the big misses: Despite its
best-known number being a proper belter, Cats is a dance-oriented show, yet
this film has eliminated the most impressive dance sequences: Mr. Mistoffelees'
solo, Jennyanydots' tap number (represented, but not properly), and the
Invitation to the Jellicle Ball. Each of those pieces is included, but the best
dance bits have been cut or bastardized by an over-abundance of CGI. (Anybody
else weirded out by those perpetually-erect tails??) The stage production has
always gone to great lengths to get makeup, costumes, and feline movement
spot-on, but here not a care was taken...in fact, these things are so bad as to
appear willfully wrong. Most costumes stop at the ankles, leaving obviously
human bare feet on display, though some Jellicles (in their sensible, everyday
forms) wear high-top sneakers, boots, overalls, and even a top hat. Human garb
in the stage production is a storytelling tool, and generally is crafted to fit
with the cat's pattern, such as Misto's vest and bowtie and Grizabella's dress
and coat. The film's makeup leaves its very famous faces very recognizable and
looking like A-list actors in dollar-store Halloween costumes. It's
distracting. Finally, for a barely-there plot that requires no explanation,
this movie does an awkward amount of explaining.
By the numbers, Act I:
This movie *almost* gets the Overture right, as there's only
a brief frame before its first notes twinkle through the darkened theater. No
choreographed Christmas lights, though. Shame. Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats
fares better than most numbers, though it suffers some unfortunate edits, ditto
the Naming of Cats, where they left in the line about cats having three
different names, then edited out the stanza about the second name. Hope no
one's counting! Robbie Fairchild does a fine job with my second-favorite
Jellicle, Munkustrap. Munkustrap is the busiest cat in the junkyard, serving as
a sort-of narrator and appearing in nearly every number, so it's important that
he's good. This one is good. Rebel Wilson's crass performance as Jennyanydots,
the Old Gumbie Cat, renders one of the show's cutest numbers a vulgar exercise.
Jason Derulo lacks the chutzpah that makes Rum Tum Tugger so much fun when he's
done right, but he's a good singer and has some presence. James Corden as
Bustopher Jones is one of the movie's better-cast roles, though the number's
adapted rather stupidly. Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer are deprived of their
perk, and neither Danny Collins nor Naoimh Morgan brings any real charm to
these audacious felines. Also...there's no tumbling, dammit! Dame Judy Dench is
okay as Old Deuteronomy, though I miss the traditionally-male Jellicle Leader's
big, booming voice. The new number written by Sir Andrew with Taylor Swift
specifically for this film is a dud. It's performed by our Victoria, Francesca
Hayward, also something of a dud. Victoria is a featured dancer in the show, so
it's baffling that filmmakers chose an accomplished ballerina for the role,
then assigned her a bunch of singing and smothered her beautiful dancing in
CGI. The Jellicle Ball is a bizarre Furry orgy that again buries its
choreography in badly-done effects. Ye gods.
Onward to Act II:
Ian McKellen is of Cats' biggest victories as Gus, the
Theater Cat. He doesn't have as much to do as you'd like Sir Ian McKellen to do
if you were lucky enough to get him for your movie, but he's quite a good fit.
Steven McRae is a pretty solid Skimbleshanks, too, though the number itself is
disappointing compared to its live cousin. (Skimble is my third-favorite
Jellicle; it's important to get Skimble right.) Macavity...uh...where do I even
start? Idris Elba, inarguably (for my money) the sexiest man alive, is utterly
ridiculous in a role that is, by default, nefariously sexy. First, he does too
much talking. There is no talking in Cats. There is only singing and dancing.
Secondly, you can see too much Idris Elba (aren't those weird words to put
together?) to think he's anything but Idris Elba in a goofy fur suit. That's
down to makeup AGAIN. Finally, his Bombalurina is Taylor Swift, an admirable
artist for many reasons, but entirely miscast as this very sexy, very mature
Jellicle. Macavity is one of the show's best numbers, and one of the film's
worst. How very disappointing. Next up is my favorite Jellicle, Mr.
Mistoffelees. (It is MOST important to get Mr. Mistoffelees right.) Laurie
Davidson is, in fact, quite a good Mr. Mistoffelees. I mean, he's no Jacob
Brent, but he's definitely the best part of the movie, despite the filmmakers
cutting his big solo. Following Misto's abbreviated number, our Grizabella
turns up for the showstopper, Memory, or, as Jennifer Hudson sings it,
"Mamwee." Jennifer Hudson has a great voice--that is an indisputable
fact--but it's outweighed by her perpetually-running nose, vacant stare, and
sloppy diction. This Grizabella ascends to the Heaviside Layer not in an old
tire, but rather in a chandelier (perhaps a nod to ALW's other dumpster-fire
film adaptation, the Phantom of the Opera?).
The finale, the Ad-Dressing of Cats, feels like an anti-climax minus an
Old Deuteronomy with a commanding baritone, but the fact that it's not a
complete disaster feels like a win.
A few missing pieces: Growltiger makes a surprise
appearance, but his featured number is predictably absent from the film, as it
has been from most of the recent Cats productions I've seen (I assume due to
its racial insensitivity). There are no Pekes or Pollicles, also frequently
axed from the stage production. As mentioned, while the film visits a junkyard,
the junkyard isn't its primary home, an artistic choice that won't have much
bearing on your enjoyment of the movie unless you really love that junkyard. (I
do.) At least they got the "Vivat!" right, I guess.
Here's something I learned about Cats when it was revived on
Broadway a couple years back: While shows like Hedwig and Hair really seem to
find their audiences in revival--remaining relevant even while painted by the
times in which they're set--Cats is not so fortunate. Debuting in London in
1981 and on Broadway in 1982, the nearly-plotless two hours of dancing felines
seemed a good fit for the Ferris Bueller and Duran Duran set, even a
game-changer for the time. In 2017, alongside Hamilton, Indecent, and even Come
From Away, Cats just seemed irrelevant. I still shelled out for a front-row
seat on my annual trip to the Big Apple, and I still loved it, but it was
definitely a show out of its time. Had this movie been a straightforward
adaptation of the stage production (I'd hoped for some improvement on the
direct-to-DVD 1998 attempt), it still would be too late for this show to set
the world on fire, but a quality big-screen version would have found its
audience among the show's fans, of which there still are many. Instead, it's
been turned into a punchline, a bad-movie benchmark for the foreseeable future,
and here's the thing about that: In "serious" theater circles, Cats
is already a punchline. Low-brow theater, tourist fare. It's also a very specific,
unique thing that can't be made into something it's not. You can love or hate
it for what it is, but you can't effectively change what it is. In attempting
to do just that, Tom Hooper and company have made Cats a punchline for what it
*isn't,* and that just breaks my heart. If In the Heights weren't already in
the can and looking so promising, I'd worry Cats was bad enough to scare
Hollywood off the movie musical for some time.
Cats clocks in at 110 minutes and is rated PG for "some
rude and suggestive humor."
The 2019 film version of Cats is a travesty, crafted by
people who either failed to understand this terrific show on a fundamental
level or simply didn't care. Of a possible nine Weasleys, Cats gets three (one
for each of my favorite Jellicles).
The current national tour of Cats is in Toronto through
January 5th, moving to Boston and Baltimore immediately following. For my
locals, the show rolls into Pittsburgh's beautiful Benedum Center from February
25th through March 1st. For a full list of dates and tickets, please check out
the link below. Please do not let this abomination of a film deter you from
seeing this legendary show in person.
https://ustour.catsthemusical.com/tickets/
Now...who's up for a Starlight Express revival??
Until next time...
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