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My answer is a firm maybe.
EliotsOld Possums Book of Practical Cats, and the poems sounded delightful.
Depicting the aristocrats (or should I sayaristocats?)
of Eliots time, they were arch but droll, the feline aspect providing the perfect satirical distance.
Sharing the space was all.
But the effect is to overhype every image: Look here!
He wont let youfocus.
The movie is shakyandjumpy overcaffeinated.
You say, Hello?
Is there going to be a show?
Its an ugly place, its unpleasantness exacerbated by Hoopers decision to stab our eyes with backlighting.
The computer-generated fur seems to me the least of the movies infelicities.
Her histrionics overwhelm the melody.
It is the stupendousness of its failure that makesCatsso arresting, so vivid, so heartbreaking.
Is this how we will look when we de-evolve, having been ravaged by pandemics and global warming?
But as these creatures are denuded of procreative organs, the very perpetuation of the species remains in doubt.
Separateness is the human/feline condition, dispersal the principle that underlines all motion.
Imagine BeckettsEndgamewith mange and you have something close to the artistic purity ofCats.
(Yes, its a compound verb now and forever.)
Watching it alone will make you feel exponentially more alone.
I love this movie.
