Cats

Marissa and I went to see Cats tonight. I'm not entirely sure that Marissa entirely appreciates psychedelic modern art. At least she thought it was entertaining. A coworker of mine said that she saw it and didn't enjoy it because she couldn't understand what they were saying. Poor thing. She totally didn't get it. "Cats" showcases cats who have weird names that represent their unique personal characeristics - "Jennyanydots" "Rum Tum Tugger" "Bustapher Jones" "Grizzabella the Glamour Cat" "Skimbleshanks". All of these cats with their strange names meet up in a junk yard where they wait for a revered cat to choose one to go to cat heaven and get reincarnated as a new cat with a strange name. While they are waiting, they dance and sing songs that celebrate their crazy names. Keep in mind that the play is based on poems by TS Eliot...the king of coming up with weird names.

I've seen Cats before--twice, actually. But that was over 10 years ago at DeVos Hall. Quite frankly, this production was not what I remembered. The songs were the same, but I swear that those cats were older and more tired and less energetic. I looked through the program and quite a bit of the company is probably new, so I doubt that I am watching any of the cast I saw in GR. What's more likely is that I have changed more than the production has. When I was 14, Cats was my first theater event. I was enamoured by the lights, the live orchestra, the first time I ever heard "Memory". I've now seen countless shows in countless venues. Going to the theater is still a lot fun, but not the exotic excitement that it once was. This is not to say that I didn't enjoy the show tonight. I think that I just need to go more often and see different things (hint, hint, Daddy).