Cats

Cats

There's a lot I can say about Cats.

I can say something about the unfinished, glitching CGI, the mediocre treatment of the music or how none of the dancing "sticks the landing" because of the interference of said CGI.

I could tell you that the film at once feels like a mid-'90s Sunday afternoon kids tv special, a ridiculous attempt at Oscar-baiting and the horniest film of the 2010s.

I could tell you that the existence of Cats as a film doesn’t make sense in the slightest because something like Cats, a variety show of different musical styles and ideas that hinges more on a singular concept than an actual plot, could only work within the confines of musical theatre because of the artificiality of the medium (and it does work!).

I could tell you that Hooper makes the same mistakes he made with Les Misérables, not being aware of what to keep when translating a musical to film and what not; the tangible and precisely orchestrated nature of the sets and the acting upon it can be preserved but if you choose to combine it with hideous CGI monstrosities, spurred by Hollywood’s incessant need to make anything and everything look hyperreal, shit’s gonna collide in a major way.

I could tell you that after seeing this, there were actually people behind me who said they believed it to be a genuinely beautiful film.

I could even tell you that, despite all those things, Cats is still something of a perverse pleasure to watch, if only to be surprised by how incredibly insane it is to see something so odd on the silver screen, knowing all the talent and money involved in its production.

But most of all I'd just like to tell you I’m more of a dog person.

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