Broadway Reviews Theatre Review by Howard Miller - April 7, 2026 CATS: The Jellicle Ball Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Based on Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T. S. Eliot. Directed by Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch . Choreography by Omari Wiles and Arturo Lyons. Music supervision and direction by William Waldrop. Orchestrations by Andrew Lloyd Webber and David Wilson. Scenic design by Rachel Hauck. Costume design by Qween Jean. Lighting design by Adam Honoré. Sound design by Kai Harada. Projection design by Brittany Bland. Hair and wig design by Nikiya Mathis. Make-up design by Rania Zohny. Magic by Paul Kieve. Dramaturg and gender consultant Josephine Kearns. Music coordinator David Lai. Music producer Doug Schadt. Beats arranger and producer Trevor Holder. Sensitivity specialist Ann James.
As you may have gathered, the show is a reimagined production of Cats, a little thing that opened on Broadway in 1982 and hung around for 18 years. It was a sung-through celebration of felis catus, with Eliot's cat poems set to Lloyd Webber's music. But, really, "reimagined" is the understatement of the year. Nothing, save Eliot's sacrosanct words, remains untouched. Cats has returned from the "Heaviside Layer," reborn, as it were, into something so totally new that to call it a "revival," or even a "revisal," would fail to do it justice. The original production of Cats was set in a junkyard playground that was a gathering place for feral felines. We in the audience were separated from them, both by the fourth wall and by the fact that those cavorting on stage were to be accepted as actual cats. They were performing for each other; we just had a tourist's eye view through the window. Now all of this has changed. The setting for Jellicle Ball is a ballroom or club in which a competitive ball celebrating queer culture is taking place. The "cats" are no longer anthropomorphic animals, but people, as in the expression "cool cats." And that matters a lot to how we perceive ourselves in this relationship. No fourth wall separates us. "Come One, Come All" reads electronic signs on the walls of the theater, right out there in the auditorium where most of us are sitting. This time, we are invited to the party. Forget the tails. Forget the cat ears. For Jellicle Ball, designer Qween Jean has created what has been said to be some 500 looks, tailored to both the characters and to the performers playing them. It is a veritable Pride Parade of style and color.
Onstage, the performers live out the premise of the title by strutting their stuff in competitive categories with names like "Virgin Vogue," "Realness," and "Tag Team." They sing up a storm to exciting new orchestrations by Lloyd Webber and David Wilson, and they dance the night away to Omari Wiles and Arturo Lyons' sinuous and athletic choreography that mixes voguing moves with styles as varied as breakdancing, African-influenced fusion, and any number of dips, pops, spins, and tumbling runs. It is a joy to behold. And come to think of it, even the names of the characters make sense in this context. Balls are places of fantasy and escape, so why not call yourself Mungojerrie instead of Jonathan Burke, the name you use when you're not on the stage of the Broadhurst Theatre; Rumpleteazer instead of Dava Huesca; or Skimbleshanks instead of Emma Sofia? There is such a wonderfully collaborative feel to the production that it is difficult to single out any of the performers as rising above the rest. I've just named three representatives of this wonderful company, but let's add a few more: André De Shields as Old Deuteronomy, a role he was born to play; "Tempress" Chasity Moore as Grizabella, giving a memorable performance of "Memory;" a decidedly buff Sydney James Harcourt as Rum Tum Tugger; Nora Schell, who puts the "bust" in Bustopher Jones; and as Gus the Theatre Cat, Junior LaBeija, himself a major figure in ballroom culture. And how cool is it that our DJ for the evening is Ken Ard, who originated the role of Macavity in the original Broadway company of Cats. CATS: The Jellicle Ball is an absolute trove of riches, filled with wonderful moments that bring together then and now while keeping everything fresh and alive, even for those totally unfamiliar with ballroom culture. Just remember this lesson as you leave the theater, something we are reminded of in the final number, "The Ad-Dressing of Cats," namely that "a cat is not a dog." I will not forget.
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